I stumbled upon this thread recently and couldn't help reading the first 10 pages or so. It brought back a lot of memories. I was not "in" with a family, but I was hooked up w/ some guys in the Western Pa area in 96-97 who claimed they were making acid, but they might have just been laying 9xs.(pronounced nine-bye; the term they used for a 30hit x 30hit sheet that was cut into 9 sheets) They got busted and I drifted around going to shows. A year or 2 later, a close friend of mine who went on tour a lot got hooked up w/ some Michigan Family who bought crystal off of the California Families and all the terms China Cat uses (wash, 10 packs, prints) I heard from my friend. Once, during an acid drought, we asked my friend if she could get us some acid in the mail from her contacts, and for $250 we got a 10pack which was simply a plastic bottle full of slightly dingy liquid which we broke down into 10, Sweet Breath bottles. We didn't know that we couldn't get Everclear in our liquor stores at the time, so we ended up using Bacardi 151, lol.
Anyway, I was reading this thread and thinking about all that stuff and I had the overwhelming desire to just type out my personal acidhead story. I've been completely sober since 2002 and I don't plan on taking drugs any time soon again, so I doubt I'll post much here, but this seems like a friendly community and maybe someone can get something from my story.
I apologize if this is the wrong place for this but it seems like a great thread to add to.
In 1992 I was 12 years old and starting to get restless. My parents were Evangelical Christians and our church had a 1 week bible camp thing in Ohio. It was only for our youth group, which was considered 13 yrs old and up, but I bugged my parents to go, thinking it would be fun like the movie Meatballs. Our pastor agreed to it and off I went.
As a slightly troubled youth, I gravitated towards anything bad. I found a group of teenagers there who were from a Christian based youth home in Indiana. We talked about Metallica and smoked cigarettes in the tree line. They were older, but I acted like a hard-ass kid, lying to them about smoking weed and drinking, so they seemed to tolerate me.
Now, I've spent a good deal of my life piecing this day back together in my head, but on Tuesday, the second day of Bible camp, I bought a fountain drink, a Mountain Dew from the concession stand. The "bad kids" were with me and one of them asked for a sip of my drink. He turned around with it and gave it back to me. I sucked it down.
We had free time between church services and I had planned on going fishing in the pond with my friend Chris. I remember getting my tackle box out and sitting in my bunk bed just looking at all the lures, amazed at the fluorescent colors and their vividness and lost in thought. I didn't know what to do with my physical body, lol. A counselor chased me out and I walked down to the pond and found Chris. I remember distinctly asking him about reality and truth and having these great epiphanies. Everything was moving in patterns and faces conveyed thoughts totally. I was 12 years old and tripping balls, but had no idea what was happening. I'd never taken drugs in my life...I thought I was having a weird dream, yet it all seemed familiar, like deep deja vu.
It was time to eat dinner and I was standing in line. I remember how difficult it was to stand there. I remember contemplating going to the nurses office, but I realized I couldn't tell anybody what was actually wrong. I was having a sort of panic attack, but I somehow knew to suck it up and that I'd get through it. A young girl in front of me in line was wearing a blouse that showed the top of her breasts and she had faint wispy hairs on her chest which squiggled. I was starring at this and commented on her chest hairs and she got angry, lol.
I got inside the dinner hall and with much effort I managed to select my food and hold my tray steady enough to make it to the table full of bad kids. They were laughing at my, but they thought I didn't know. I remember feeling hurt by this. They were asking me things and giggling, but I couldn't answer them. I could not eat at all, so, feeling like 100 kids were staring right at the back of my neck, I walked up to the trash bin to throw out my food and leave, but a counselor caught me and yelled at me for wasting food. I was stunned and had no reply other than I couldn't eat. He told me to go to the nurse's office, but I went up on a hillside and sat on a large rock instead.
I sat on that rock looking down at the dinner hall. A kid came out crying while a counselor tried to calm him. I remember that I knew everything that was going on in both of their minds and I remember thinking of the futility of the crying and how I saw no need to ever cry again. It got dark and it was time for the evening church service.
For evening church, we were supposed to get dressed up in shirts and ties. Most of the boys showered first. I went in a bathroom stall and took the biggest shit of my life and just sat there for a while, scared to come out, while everyone showered.
I had to walk up a big hill to get to the chapel and though it was night, I could see just fine. I was amazed at my night vision and the tracers on everything. I clutched my Bible in my hand and twisted it up with my fingers. The "bad kids" may have dosed me again at dinner, but I don't recall anything particular. I made it to church and stood up and clapped with everyone else at the Praise and Worship. This segment of the church service was orchestrated by a middle aged couple from my church who had both of their teenage daughters on stage singing with them. I remember feeling extremely awkward standing there and right after the singing was done, one of the daughters came over to me, excitedly, and told me how she was so happy to see "the Joy of the Lord" on my face. I didn't understand, but in retrospect, I must have been grinning ear to ear, lol.
The sermon was going on and I was mesmerized by the tracers on the flailing arms of the preacher. It looked just like the cover of the Black Sabbath album Paranoid, but in real time. The middle aged lady who ran the Praise and Worship, the mother of the girl who had previously tried to talk to me, came up to me after the preaching was done. They were having an alter call, and she sat next to me very accusingly and angry. She whispered stuff in my ear, and I remember her saying that she knew I was "on something", but it didn't click...I didn't actually know I was on a drug. I remember this overwhelming feeling of relief, that all the angry religious guilt she was trying to put on my was meaningless. It had no effect on me. Growing up in a church and family centered around fundamentalist Christianity, this was an awesome feeling. I knew at that moment, without a doubt, that there was "something out there" and that it had nothing to do with the god they told me about. It was not evil or angry or accusatory. They were wrong and I felt no guilt or shame at that moment.
We played games and socialized under a pavilion after church. I must have been coming down, as later in my life, confusion often set in for me when coming down from an acid trip. I was trying to play 4 Square, but fucking it up pretty bad. I was quite certain this was all a dream, so I figured I could do what I wanted and I should, since it was a dream...I hocked a big lugee and spit in a girl's hair, for no real reason other than I wasn't in reality.
I got sent up to my bunk and yelled at by a counselor. He was standing there screaming and I had nothing to say. I remember he finally erupted and said "At least you used to listen, at least give me that". I laid in my bunk silently, the lights went out, and it took me a long time before I went to sleep.
The next day, I couldn't find the "bad kids" anywhere. Someone finally told me that they thought they were sent back to their group home. I started piecing together yesterday and convinced myself that it was just a weird dream. None of the counselors said a word to me about spiting in the girl's hair or anything else. I couldn't find any of my new "friends" but...it was Wednesday. I tried to put it out of my mind, but I was never, ever the same person. I grew up there; I was no longer naive about reality.
In retrospect, I'm pretty sure those kids got busted with acid and sent back to their group home and/or the juvenile court system. I'm also pretty sure that the staff there knew about me, but didn't say anything, lest I tell my parents and they sue the camp or it's staff. It was better for them to just forget about it and hope nothing ever came back up liability wise.
After that, I sought out anything bad. I was in full scale rebellious mode, but deep inside, I was on a quest. I tried any sort of drug I could get my hands on, pills, booze, pot...I read books on the occult and listened to death metal. I ran away from home and stole whiskey off my friend's parents. Not really knowing I had done acid, I was trying to find something, anything, that could give me more answers.
I got sent away to live in a Teen Challenge youth home in WV. I did some drugs there and met a kid form Illinois who had recently been to his first Dead show; the last Dead show. (For some reason, lol) I was highly attracted to the lifestyle and clothing and stories this kid told me. I sang Dead tunes I barely knew (we weren't allowed radios there), I bought tie dyed T shirts, and purchased Grateful Dead CDs on my visits home. It took me 20 months to graduate from the program and shortly before my last day, I had a dream of the future. I was stoned, standing in a room with a black light on, playing with a white mesh laundry bag full of balled up white socks while crazy music played in the background.
About 6 months later, I was living back at home and in public High School. I went to a friend's house where we were listening to The Doors and smoking weed. I was playing with a laundry bag of white socks under the black light while Not To Touch the Earth was on. It was one of the clearest Deja Vu events of my life, though I had many.
I bought tons of Grateful Dead CDs, had a nice collection of bootlegs, wore Tie Dyes, and smoked pot daily. Pot was actually disappointing to me at first; I was looking for something intense and profound (like acid), but since it was the social mechanism for which I could make new drug connections, I learned to like it.
I had a part time job at a country club, and befriended one of the waiters there who sold pot. We became pretty good buddies and one day, he told me he'd be getting acid soon. I had been searching for acid for a while; though I still didn't know for sure that I had actually taken it before.
To make this long story shorter, I began buying sheets of acid off my friend. I was eating acid all the time. I figured out what happened to me at Bible camp that summer and a lot more. I was "in" with all the popular hippy kids at my school and was selling so much acid that my friend told me his connection wanted to meet me.
I began buying sheets off of them directly. I think I was paying about $70 sheet at that time. Often, it was still wet when I bought it. Usually it was just white blotter, but sometimes they would sell something stamped. Once I recall eating a 10 strip of what they called Blue Butterfly, though there wasn't much blue stamped on my sample 10 strip. That may have been the hardest I tripped at that point in my life and I started preaching to my friends about my acidhead revelations, which freaked THEM out and they dropped me off alone somewhere, lol. I remember the paper actually dissolved in my mouth, which added to the spookiness of that particular acid.
My close friends were actually starting to worry about me, saying that I was eating way too much acid...my friend who introduced me to the guys told me that I had ate more acid than anyone he knew. I took that as an honor, but I was still searching and I hadn't found what I was looking for yet.
I kept asking for liquid acid and eventually, they obliged. I got a Visene bottle with about 1/4" of clear liquid at the bottom. I sold some drops on some sugar cubes to a few friends, one of which I later found out had called 911 on himself after freaking out. I have no idea what the concentration of that liquid was, but I'm guessing pretty hefty if one dropped caused a regular acid eater to freak out like that.
My friend the waiter, who had introduced me to the acid guys and who I'd tripped with many times, invited me to ride up to Futhur with him. This was at Starlake Amphitheater in 1997. I decided that I was going to just "do it" and "figure it all out" with a massive dose of acid for Furthur. I took the bottle and dropped 4 drops of acid, then let my tongue touch the bottle and just squirted some in; I don't know how much, but enough that I could feel it pour across my tongue. I wasn't sure how the acid would kick in, so I took some particularly speedy blotter I had, and ate about 5 hits as soon as I hopped in the truck. My friend pulled out a large bag of small capped mushrooms and offered me some, so I ate and handful of those as well. Then I told him how much liquid acid I had took before getting in the truck and eating the paper and shrooms.
He was laughing, but kind of concerned, and told me that he had to meet someone at the show first, but that he was hooking up w/ a large group of his friends shortly after that and I was of course welcome to hang out with them all. I think he was already thinking I would need a babysitter, though I never thought it important, lol.
We met his friend who was, as far as I could tell, trying to buy acid from one of us. I was standing there facing some kid, gritting my teeth, and probably smiling insanely, unable to have a conversation. My stomach started to "hurt", but it didn't really hurt. It felt like when your foot goes to sleep, only my whole core was tingling like needles being pushed in from all angles...I started to panic thinking the mushrooms were poisonous, but then I relaxed my mind as best I could and tried to ignore it. The feeling passed, though I don't remember it passing, I was tripping so hard and so quick.
I guess I was led through the gates and into the concert. I sat down cross legged on a blanket with 2 hippy girls I didn't know. My friend and a couple of his buddies were behind us and I felt relatively safe.
I started to babble about the positives and negatives and "truth" and these girls were listening to me. In retrospect, I think they were advised to babysit me, but I was happy to have found a captive audience, lol.
The trip was so intense that I had to put my head down between my legs and just let it happen. I realized everything about the universe and how it works; it flooded my brain and I knew that I knew it all already. It was not new knowledge to me; it was ancient. I kept popping my head up to tell these girls something profound, then going back into my trance like state. Everything spun, the whole earth moved, I was unable to stand up. I started asking "it" questions and the answers were flashed into me. I asked to see my conception and I saw blackness and a point of light flick and there I was: consciousness. I asked to see my death and I saw it. Anything and everything I ever wanted to know flowed right into my brain at the speed of light.
At some point, I was able to stand up and walk around. The concert was going full throttle and I stood there overlooking the teeming mass of people dancing. Then I had what I consider the most profound moment of my life. It was like a light bulb exploded in the middle of my brain with a crack and I knew: I was god. Everything is god, we all exist within god's consciousness. I had nothing more to do. I just stood there, I felt like my body was useless; I was stuck inside of it and nothing more. There was no ego, no fear...I was simply god living inside god's mind.
After this, I started to come down a little. The confusion started to set it and I found it hard to walk again. I could not find my friends or the girls. I started thinking about my death and what I saw and got freaked out. I eventually just laid in the grass and tried to remember what I had learned, but I knew that I had found what I had been looking for and that was it; my spiritual journey was over, for better or worse.
I found my friends and made it home in terror. My liquid acid had been stole in my absence, but I didn't care. It was a sign itself. I didn't want to eat acid again. I remember thinking that this was it; I no longer needed to do drugs. I could quit drinking and smoking pot...that wasn't really me deep down inside anyway. I was an extremely intelligent kid, the drugs were necessary to get to the acid, and now that was done with. I could get on with my life...
...of course, that's not what happened. I started drinking heavily, unable to cope with the burnout from so much acid use for the past year. I was anxious and depressed. I started doing speed and moved on to opiates. I was a mess and constantly frightened of dieing the way I saw myself ding; not that I was scared of death itself anymore mind you, but what I saw looked extremely painful. I took acid lots of times after that, but never more than a few hits of paper or a drop or 2 of liquid. I would use acid as a recreational drug only...there was no need for me to revisit it fully; I had the rest of my life to process the experience.
Eventually, I got sober for good in the summer of 2002. This is 2013 now and I'm a regular guy: I own a house and a business; I have a great fiance, dog, etc...but not a day goes by where I don't think about, even briefly, my experiences on acid. I know that I don't really die, I know what "god" is, and I know the most important thing I can do in this life is to treat other people well. The more I think about others, the easier my life gets and the happier I am.
If you read all that, thank you. I hope you got something from it 
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I really liked the part where you took all that acid and shrooms with your buddy on your way to the concert.
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