Maybe 6 weeks ago I had mushrooms for the second time. I ate 3 grams and probably drank about a litre of orange juice (I'd heard it intensified and extended the effects).
I tried mushrooms for the first time about 6 months ago. I had 2 grams (not combined with anything) and ended up having a pretty good time. No hallucinations or anything major like that. Just felt like a really happy drunk buzz.
The second time was really different. I was with a bunch a friends, a few of which were on mushrooms as well, and it started out fine, but then a few events took place that really worried me. I sat by myself for a little while and eventually things appeared to be normal again. Yet I soon started hallucinating; things desintegrating, people in pictures morphing into other people, objects moving in fast forward, slow motion. And nothing I'd ever read on drugs or talked to about with experienced users could ever have prepared me for this. I sort of felt overwhelmed by the whole deal.
I suddenly felt really uncomfortable with my environment. I just wanted to go home and sleep it off. Yet when I eventually got home the trip became a living hell. These horrible noises that wouldn't leave my head. Seeing the terrified look on my face in the mirror was really a fucked up sight. It was some nightmare I couldn't get out of. I just couldn't get my mind off negative thoughts. I felt I was at the edge of insanity and I was so afraid I was going to die or lose my mind. The mind expanded to the point where I thought I was experiencing more than I could handle. I couldn't tell what was real and what wasn't. I couldn't sleep; I felt as if my body had fallen asleep but my mind was wide awake. It was the most excrutiating thing I'd ever been through and I felt like my death would be the only way out. I think that thinking of the few people that really matter to me (though I had a hell of a hard time remembering them) is the only thing that spared me from doing something stupid and irreparable. It's just a really fucked feeling; I'd always thought of suicide as the easy way out, yet that night I felt like it was the only way out. I passed out after a few hours.
I woke up the next morning, not knowing if I was back to reality or still in some dream world. I thought I was surprisingly comfortable with what I'd been through just a few hours earlier, despite the fact that I'd never been so fucking scared.
It took me probably a week or so before I was convinced that everything I was experiencing was really happening and not the fruit of my imagination.
Hardly a minute goes by where I don't think about this experience. I don't feel quite the same about the world anymore. Things seem to matter more and less at the same time. I think I got plenty of positive things out of it all; I have this new perspective on life. I guess that for the first time in years I'm close to happiness. The whole thing takes some getting used to. Sometimes it's sort of scary. Lying in bed at night without a single thought crossing my mind, whereas a couple months earlier I'd have been thinking over a million things. That kind of shit takes getting used to. Sometimes I wish I could go back to the way things were before. I don't know if I'm putting too much thought into this bad trip or what.
I feel a certain desire in me to experience more of this altered state of consciousness. It's really an experience that can't be put into words, and somehow I want more of it. I'm just really afraid of another bad trip; my first psychedelic experience was a fucking scary one and to me it seems foolish to expect the next one to turn out otherwise. I know it's a question of mindset, but that's just how I feel about the issue right now.
Anyhow, that's just my 2 cents. I'm for the most part wondering if I'm putting too much thought into this, and how other people who have experienced bad trips have dealt with the whole thing, but really any comments would be more than appreciated.
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