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OfflineTheScientificMethod
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Another Psychedelic Summer [Deep LSD Trip Report] * 1
    #23944586 - 12/20/16 08:42 PM (7 years, 1 month ago)

"Another Psychedelic Summer"
By The_Scientific_Method



It’s funny looking back on it now.

Those will be my dying words. I feel that way about all of the events of my past life. The good times, and the bad—they’re all funny once time has sandwiched itself between then and now.

It had been eighteen months since I’d tripped on LSD. Years ago it was my drug of choice, but time had passed, and I had actually grown afraid of the drug that had once been such a close friend.

The first time someone offered me those little papers soaked in LSD I remember feeling visceral disgust. That was a “hard drug,” I thought, and I couldn’t even believe that he was asking me if I wanted them. I’d asked for mushrooms, and here was this synthetic laboratory substance being offered up in its place. But I let my first reaction subside and tried to remember that this might be the only time in my life when it was right there in front of me. This could in fact be a once in a lifetime opportunity. So with slight hesitation, I accepted the little squares of paper, and what happened next changed my life.

That almost five years ago now, and it’s a story worth telling, but that story will have to wait for another time. That’s not what this is about. This is about a more recent psychedelic summer.

After that first acid trip I delved deeply into psychedelics. I had my time with acid, then with mushrooms, then dug way down into the DMT realm where things were as strange as I think they ever could be. Before these drugs I had been an atheist, but just like there are no atheists in foxholes, neither are their atheists who have ingested as many psychedelics as I have at this point. LSD turned me from atheist to pantheist in about four hours, and after that I spent the next five years refining my belief system down into something more manageable than the mere statement of “everything is god.”

In the past two years I had been deeply involved in mushrooms and DMT. Both of these plant medicines I could procure myself, and I decided that there was something sacred in that. It wasn’t about trusting a dealer at his word when he told me that the invisible chemical on a square of paper was actually LSD and not some other unknowable research chemical; these were made in my own home and I knew had full trust in them.

I had used them both regularly last year—regularly enough that it wouldn’t be an unreasonable argument that I went too deep. But I came out alive and mostly in tact with very few regrets of the choices I made. Acid had become a long lost friend though.

There were parts of me that wanted to find LSD again after going a year and a half without the drug, but I wasn’t overly ambitious in trying to find it. I really was full of trepidation in thinking about the prospect of finding the drug again. DMT lasted ten minutes. No matter how far out it brought me, it always brought me back in one piece in such a short time. Mushrooms weren’t very different. They lasted much longer than DMT, yes, but still nowhere as long as LSD. Even the six gram mushroom trips I’d taken that had completely changed my view of reality moving forward, they brought me back to baseline a mere five hours after that initial ingestion. Acid just seemed so long.

I felt like such a contradiction. That summer when I first ate LSD I did it almost every weekend for months. Now it had been a year and a half and I was scared even thinking about a twelve hour trip. Was it really twelve hours? How did I ever handle going so far out for that long?

I knew that it would happen though, and early this summer it did. A close friend told me that he had acquired some LSD from a very trusted source and offered me a tab. “It’ll probably do you some good” he said. “You seem like you’ve been too hung up on things. Just take a single dose and go out in nature. It’ll be what you need.”

He was right. I remember looking at the little square of paper before putting it under my tongue and trying to focus on all the great times I’d had those years ago when this was a normal thing for me. I focused on them intensely and put it in my mouth.

It was everything that I needed.

Later that week I went back to my friend and told him about the trip. I asked him if he had anymore and by and by I ended up with an entire sheet. It was just like the days when I first found LSD. I had all that I could have asked for and more. And so began my psychedelic summer and one trip in particular that forever altered my view of the world around me.

---

I would love to tell you about them all. Shoot—I’d even like to tell *me* about them all before they fade into the past and become forgotten in the fog of a yesterday. I made a promise to myself when I started regularly eating psychedelic mushrooms that I never wanted plant medicines to become recreational. I wanted for them to be teaching tools, and the best way that I could ensure that was happening, I decided, was to always make a trip report. So for every single mushroom trip that I took after making that pledge to myself, I followed it with a trip report, detailing as much of the experience as I could remember and as many details about dose, setting, and subjective effects that I could manage to put on the page. I approached my psychedelic experiences as a if I were an explorer, uncovering a new world that few others would ever have the chance to visit. I wanted to share these experiences with the rest of the world and I wanted to preserve them for myself too so that one day in a far off future I could look back at these experiences that felt so fundamental to who I was becoming. The same held true for my DMT experiences. I write as much detail about my first ten trips as I could remember. After that however, I decided that that was enough and DMT took on a new role in my life. It too was a tool of exploration into another land, but I no longer felt like it was necessary to put each trip onto the page.

Acid was different though. I didn’t fully trust LSD like I trusted the teaching of organic compounds like DMT and psilocybin, and so I dealt with it differently. I accepted that it was okay for me to just let go and enjoy the experience of LSD and not worry about trying to learn as much as I could from it. LSD, to me, felt like a “now” experience that wasn’t about taking something back so much as letting myself slide into the warm waters of its psychedelic trance. It was about allowing myself to enjoy.

I ate a tab in a national park with a friend.
I ate a tab with another friend while we walked along a lake.
I ate a tab and a half with another friend on Lake Powell.
The two of us returned to Lake Powell the following week with the friend who first introduced me to LSD several years ago and we all three ate two tabs and redosed that evening and the following day.
Trevor (not his real name) and I returned to Lake Powell again and ate another two tabs.
I ate another tab and a half off in the forest near where I live with another friend.

Lake Powell became my summer haven. I went back there almost every week. The job I was working gave me three days each week and I bought a kayak. So at the end of my fourth day at work, I would go to Lake Powell, row under the sun, swim in the water, build a campfire at night, and sleep under the stars. It was literally the most beautiful and amazing summer of my life. And through it all, I had an entire sheet of LSD that felt like it would last forever.

Each week that Trevor and I went to the lake however, we always tripped together. I didn’t trip there when I went alone, but if I was with Trevor, we ate acid without fail.

It was July. The peak of summer. The weather was amazing. In the heat of the day temperatures would reach above 110 degrees, but we were always on the water, so we would row until it became too hot, then we’d jump in the lake, climb back into our boats, and do it all over again. The water was crystal clear and with goggles, it felt like we were flying. Fish would pool up around us, and you could see what felt like forever. Of all the places I’ve ever been and all of the things that I’ve ever seen, nothing was like what I found on Lake Powell this summer.

Somehow I decided that I was going to stop smoking cannabis for some time to allow my tolerance to reset. For years I’d been a five-times-a-day smoker and I had only taken time off two or three times in all of those years. I was overdue. I was smoking more and more and finding less and less of a high. It was something that needed to happen. I decided that at the end of those two weeks, Trevor and I would go back out to Lake Powell, and I would end my tolerance break under the influence of LSD. We’d both drop our tabs, and right before the peak, I imagined, I would smoke again and that would hopefully launch me into some other place beyond what I’ve ever experienced before. I also knew that Trevor, being the guy that he is, was going to push me to eat more acid this time. We’d all dabbled with eating a single tab plenty of times by that point. We’d eaten a tab and a half, and we’d eaten two tabs, every week working our way higher and higher, diving more deeply into the psychedelic waters each time.

I’ve read the stories of people who eat ten strips, or fifty tabs, a hundred tabs, or even “thumb prints,” but I cannot relate and I never have been able to understand them. It’s not just about a fear to go that far; I genuinely do not think that it would be possible for me to do so. I absolutely react differently to the drug. It does something to me that I know that they aren’t getting. They report eating a ten-strip at a music festival and spending the whole day bouncing around, dancing, singing, and laughing. I ate three tabs twice and was pinned to the ground. My system does something different to me. At three tabs I am just barely able to hold onto reality. The prospect of eating more than that would be stepping into a place that is outside of control and absolutely unmanageable. If you’re reading this today and saying, “that pussy—I eat ten tabs of acid all the time,” well good for you. I am not trying to write this report as a way to impress with you with how much I’ve taken. This is more about what happened rather than the dose.

We finished work late that evening and had our gear packed for the three days ahead. I drove for the first hour and a half, but Trevor convinced me that we should pull over and smoke to make the drive more enjoyable. Although I’d been planning to end my sobriety from weed the next day out on the lake, I agreed that a single toke wouldn’t hurt anybody, and let him drive the rest of the way. After two weeks of abstinence, I became higher than I’d probably been in years. I couldn’t even carry a conversation. All I could do was listen as Trevor talked and pretend like I understood what he was saying. It was bliss. Terrance McKenna was quoted as having said something along the line that the best way to use marijuana is to abstain for weeks on end, and then get as high as possible—to get so high that you think to yourself, “oh no, this is too much.” But he admitted that he just didn’t have the patience for that kind of use. He needed it more regularly and as such, he never let his tolerance get low enough to make the most of pot experiences like that. Well I have been that same way for most of my life. Sitting there in the car while Trevor drove the rest of the way to the lake however reminded me that McKenna may just have been onto something after all. I was completely pinned to the car seat watching the flashing white lines wiz by as we drove through the night.

We camped a mile from the lake itself and woke at sunrise. Neither of us slept enough that night. Having set up camp at two o’clock in the morning and waking at dawn, we barely slept four hours. But once the sun broke the horizon, there was no fighting to get back to sleep. It was time to begin the day, and we were both excited about what was ahead. 

We drove to the boat dock and on the way stopped for breakfast and coffee, putting us on the water by seven o’clock. The sun was already warm, and the water stayed warm all throughout the evening. In the summer months the water of Lake Powell is comfortably within the 80s. Day and night, it’s comfortable swimming.

We rowed for about a half hour through the marina where boats are docked of all kinds. There’s a kayak rental spot there too, but mostly it’s a docking station for house boats, speed boats, and yachts that are as glamorous as you can imagine. Some of them are literally five stories tall. It’s weird rowing a little kayak through those boats; we’d done it while tripping earlier that summer. Our kayaks are literally the least expansive boats on the lake, and these giant multi million dollar yachts are like monoliths in their own right. It always makes me wonder, “are they quantifiably happier than me?” “Are their lives really that much better, or do they just have more to worry about?”.

After rowing out of sight of the marina Trevor and I pulled our boats up to a sandbar. We jumped off some cliffs into the warm lake waters and unpacked the glass bong that I’d stowed in the cargo compartment of my kayak. I didn’t normally bring the bong out to the lake, but I wanted to make this weekend as special as possible, especially considering that I hadn’t smoked in a couple weeks with the one exception of a single hit the night before.

Too often as a regular smoker I forget how nice it is to burn out of a clean pipe, but since this was a special occasion, I had cleaned the pipe until it was crystal clear and not a stain remained. We loaded it up, took ice from the cooler and filled the neck and both took long slow hits. Instantly I was cast into a haze much like the night before, but under the bright day sun and beside the lake waters it felt much different. This felt like a vacation. This felt like my special place.

Trevor and I both cracked a beer and sipped it while we passed the pipe back and forth, becoming higher and higher until I had to tell him that I couldn’t have anymore.  He tried to push me to take one more, but I declined. I knew that it was going to be a long day, and I was already as high as I could stand. We had a lot of rowing to go still, and if I were anymore stoned, I would have been taken out of commission.

We both finished our beer, jumped off cliffs, and laid out in the sun to let the high sink in a bit further.

“Hey man,” Trevor said.

“What’s up?” I asked, but I already knew what he was going to say.

“You want to take some acid?”

We had planned to drop later in the day so that we could enjoy a trip under the stars before it faded out of our system, but as soon as we got on the water I think we both knew that we didn’t want to wait. We had more than enough with us to last us for days and days, so there was no point in waiting. It was time.

I told Trevor that we should absolutely drop, but that he was going to have to go and get it out of my boat. I was literally too high to get it myself. I could explain to him where it was, but the cannabis had pinned me to the ground and I couldn’t move just yet. He scurried down to the waterline where we’d pulled our boats ashore, dug around my boat’s cargo bin, and pulled out the little dry box where I had tucked our most important supplies.

Inside the dry box was a water tight film canister, and inside of there were several folded pieces of aluminum foil. I took them both out, handed one to Trevor, and unfolded the other one myself. Within the foil were a dozen little squares of paper. I’d cut some of them into single squares and some into double squares earlier in the week when I was preparing for the trip. I took out one double square and one single square and placed them on my tongue.

It’s always hard for me to actually drop acid if I think too much about it. It’s such a powerful drug and the experiences are so profound that it’s like sky diving or bungie-jumping. You know that you’re going to be okay, but it still takes a moment to collect yourself and do it. This time however, I just leapt. I didn’t want to dwell on it. This was going to be my first time eating three tabs in several years. In the weeks prior we had each eaten two tabs, and that had been so much more intense than a single tab or even compared to a tab and a half. We both knew that this was going to be a wild day, but we didn’t know how wild it was going to get.

“You took three?” Trevor asked after putting three into his mouth.

“Yeah,” I said, and I stuck my tongue out with the tabs resting on it.

“That’s just two!”

“No, one of them is two tabs; the other is a single tab. I cut them into singles and doubles before leaving home.”

“No way dude! That’s just two.”

I showed him my tongue again. “One of them is a square and the other is a rectangle. The rectangle is two tabs.”

“Bullshit!” Trevor said. “That’s just two! You’re just high.” He took another square out from his piece of aluminum and handed it to me. “Here. Put this in your mouth.”

I protested briefly, but knew that it was no good. He was going to make me take another. I tried to remember that it’s just acid and that no one has ever died from taking too much. I thought about the thumb print reports that I’ve read on Shroomery and how much more that is than the mere four tabs that I’d have. I thought about the trip reports of people taking ten tabs as if it’s a normal thing. I would survive four tabs. So I took the fourth tab from Trevor and put it on my tongue with the other two pieces of paper.

It started hitting us fast. We’d both had a lot of LSD already that summer, but the trips never started for an hour or so after we ate our tabs when we took one or two of them. But this wasn’t the same. The first effects started within fifteen minutes, and I think by then we both knew that this wasn’t going to be a “normal” day.

We pulled our boats into the water as soon as we’d wrapped up the pipe and packed everything back and started back on our journey. From there time disappeared. Neither of us had much of a grasp on how long we were on the water after that. We just rowed and tried to focus on that rhythm. Row, Row, Row. Don’t think too much. Just row. Let yourself fall into the LSD. Don’t be afraid.

My grasp of time was non-existent, but looking back on the trip and where we were on the lake, I’ve been able to piece together a rough timeline in the aftermath. About twenty minutes after we both took the dose my visuals became extremely intense. I was still “there” in terms of grasping reality, but it was getting slippery. I kept looking to Trevor to see how he was doing and he looked completely normal other than the giant grin on his face. As far as I could tell he was just having a blast. But it was becoming a bit too heavy for me.

“Just keep rowing” I told myself. “Right then left. One moment at a time. You can do this.” I was beginning to realize that I was on a different level than Trevor. I also realized in that moment that we had talked in the drive to the lake last night about him eating MDMA in the days prior to our trip to the lake. It dawned on me that this probably had an effect on his tolerance to LSD. Not only had he taken one tab less than me—he also had a tolerance from eating ecstasy three days prior. This was going to be a very strange and wild day.

“How you doing man?” He asked. “You look like you’re doing okay.”

This was astonishing to me. I felt like a liquid. I was beginning to struggle with differentiating where the lake began and where I ended. We were seemed to be just the same.

“I’m okay I guess.” I told him, and it shocked me that I could even speak. “How about you.”

He just smiled and raised his eyebrows while he nodded, indicating that it was coming on strong. “I’m still holding on.”

We continued to row for what must have been five or ten more minutes and the trip just became heavier and heavier. The entire world around me was morphing and changing and barely recognizable. I looked to the cliff walls that were all around the lake and could only tell that they were rock walls based on logic. I knew that’s what they *had* to be, but my vision told me that they were something far different. They were morphing globules of incandescence. The entire world was changing and transforming.

“Still holding on?” Trevor asked.

“Barely.” I said. It’s really, really heavy.”

“Yeah, me too.” Trevor replied as we turned a corner on the shoreline that opened to a small alcove between the cliffs where a small sandbar had formed. Trevor turned his Kayak in and started towards the shore. It was such a relief that I actually felt myself coming down just a bit, or maybe it was just a down-wave of the LSD trip. Whatever it was, I was still tripping incredibly hard, but it felt manageable again.

We pulled our kayaks up onto the beach and sprawled out on the rocks. I remember that we talked briefly there, but I can’t recall what we talked about. The grips of the LSD trip were so tight.

Together we sat on the shore and watched intense visuals across the lake. It was the first time in my life that I had ever tripped so hard. I could feel even through the LSD that the marijuana was also having a profound effect on me. Had I not taken the tolerance break, I would have wanted to smoke a bowl just to calm me down, but I was already so high that just the thought of smoking more made me cringe. There was no way that I could use weed to get through this trip. I thought about the Xanax in my drug kit and told Trevor that I was thinking about taking some to bring me down, but he talked me out of it. “Ride it out,” he kept saying. “Just hold on and ride it out. We’re going to make it through this.”

The sun was becoming hot and somehow I had the wherewithal to put on sunscreen to prevent from burning. It’s probably because earlier that summer Trevor had burned so bad while tripping on Lake Powell that it had literally taken most of the skin off of his legs and feet. He was only just starting to recover from the injuries, and that was in the back of my head the whole time. It must have been a comical screen for anyone who would have taken the time to watch us—both tripping our minds out on acid and rubbing sun screen all over one another until we were both coated in white cream. I wish now that we’d brought a sober photographer along just to capture those moments.

The LSD waves came and went. In the high points it was impossible to do anything but lay on the ground and close our eyes, no longer even pretending that holding onto reality was possible. But then a wave would come back down and we could sit up and almost carry on a conversation.

At one point, probably an hour and a half after we took our tabs, we got out our goggles and went swimming. This ended up being one of the most amazing moments of my entire life. The water was crystal clear, but the lake is an so deep that it just drops into infinity. We could dive under the surface and swim along the shallows, watching the bottom until the cliffs dropped off for hundreds of feet. It was exactly like we were flying. Sparkles of the sun refracted in every direction, and fish swarmed all around us. There were little fish by the hundreds, and astonishingly even the stripped bass came up to us within arm’s reach. They were completely unafraid of us. We would go up for air, then dive back down, swimming around with the fish and refracting sunlight until we were out of air. Then we’d go back to the surface and do it all again. Images of that experience are burned into my mind like the clearest photo. I’ll never forget that.

It scared me slightly though. We were still so incredibly high that I worried about our judgment. I couldn’t get inside Trevor’s head to try and grasp what he was experiencing suffice to say that I knew that he was high as hell and that if anything happened to either of us, it would not be good. I worried about shallow-water drowning. I imagined what would happen if he failed to come up in time for air and lost consciousness. I pictured him going limp and starting to sink down, and down, and down into the blackness that were the water depths. It was such a strange place. The shallows and near the surface the water was clear and warm, but if you looked down into the depths, it was black as night, and diving down deep, you could easily feel a change in temperature. It was cold and dark and dead down there. I couldn’t ignore the juxtaposition between the amazing experience we were having up above and the horror that existed below if anything went wrong.

Another wave from the LSD started to come up and I think it hit Trevor at the same time. We both emerged from the water and went back to the beach to lay down. Each wave was still bringing us higher and higher. I was definitively higher than I had ever been, and when Trevor handed me a bowl to smoke I turned it down. “I can’t man.”

He seemed disappointed when I turned down the offer, but I told him that this was literally the highest that I’d ever been in my life and that I couldn’t handle anything more. I was already in too deep. I had lost reality. I wasn’t really even there anymore. How I was talking to him is even beyond me, and really I don’t even remember it except in little flashes. Much of what happened I had to put together after it was all over and we talked through the day.

We both laid there by the water’s edge in the sun, melting into the beach. I’d close my eyes, but I don’t know for how long. Long enough, I suppose. And then I’d open them, sit back up and look at Trevor who looked like he had drowned and washed ashore. “Are you okay man?” I’d ask and reach over to tap him on the shoulder. He would smile and nod and I’d go back to closing my eyes and do it again probably five minutes later. I was imposing my own experience on him. I would feel myself slipping too deep behind my closed eyes and I’d sit back up and try to wake myself out of it, then I’d worry that Trevor was going to disappear into some other world. I also worried what spectators would think. The beach we were on was small and no one else was there, but by then it was close to eleven or noon and boats were beginning to fill the lake. Many of them would go by us and wave, and I was afraid that they’d think that something was wrong—that they’d see us laying there in the sun like corpses and think that we had drowned and needed help. The last thing that we needed was for someone to come upon us in that state. We needed to be left alone. And so I kept tapping Trevor and asking if he’s okay, telling him that someone was going to come and try and rescue us if we didn’t start looking like we were okay.

The timeline is such a blur looking back on it. I remember it in still-frame memories. I remember pulling our boats to shore. I remember sitting on the shore. I remember putting on sunscreen and swimming with the fish. God, I’ll never forget swimming with the fish in those crystal clear waters. I remember laying on the shore again and Trevor trying to get me to smoke with him. I remember him getting up and walking over to some other rock, probably because I wouldn’t stop bothering him. I remember thinking that no matter what I do for the rest of my life, I will never be this high again. I couldn’t even imagine what it would mean to be higher than this, and this is coming from the guy who had smoked DMT at least 60 times up to that point, and fully broken-through on at least a dozen occasions.

Then reality melted. It couldn’t have happened at a worse time. I wonder now, looking back on things, how it would have turned out differently if we’d just pulled our boats higher, or if the tour ship had slowed down or been further out from our beach. It’s like the car accident that makes you ask “what if” for the rest of your life.

I remember that I was laying there in the shade of a cliff, maybe thirty feet from the shore. Trevor’s kayak had taken on some water in the time between the marina and our pulling up on the beach, so he had taken out all of his things and spread them out on the shore. His cigarettes, his clothes, his camping gear, his food—basically everything he had was spread out in the hot Arizona sun to dry.

I remember the giant white boat roaring by, and in my memory it was so incredibly close that I worried that passengers would see my dilated pupils, but it couldn’t have been that close, I know. I remember several dozen passengers on the back of the three-story ship, all out on the deck and enjoying the scenery. I remember one lady in particular smiling and waving at us. I waved back to her and wondered if she knew that I was on drugs. She had to know. I was a liquid at that point. I was melted into a puddle of LSD. There’s no way that I could have looked “normal” or even acted that way if I wanted to.

Then I remember the quiet. The ship came by, its engines roared, the lady waved, and then it went around the bend and it was quiet again. I don’t know how long that quiet lasted, but in my memory it was ten or fifteen seconds. Then came the wake.

The ship was huge and its wake was literally ten feet high. Our little alcove of a beach was instantly swallowed first by one wave that took all of Trevor’s belongings and swallowed them into the water. Our kayaks first washed up the shore and then ran back down into the lake with the receding tide.

In an instant our heavy, sunshine, lakeside, peaceful LSD trip became a nightmare. We were f*cked. Everything was washed away and floating around, and then came another wake, and then another, and then another, each one swallowing the shore.

I remember it all in snapshots.

Panic sunk into me as deeply as the LSD that had been there before, but somehow I was able to keep myself together. Trevor and I both jumped to our feet and ran into the lake, first pulling our boats in, then looing at the scattered floating mess. There was his backpack, there was a lifejacket, food, water bottles, a cooler, beer, cigarettes, everything we had with us for three nights of camping had been swallowed into the lake. My mind flashed to the black hole that loomed under the waters surface, and I could see our entire lives getting sucked away.

We ran back and forth, diving into the waters, grabbing anything we could, bringing it to shore, and then going back out and getting more, but it was all too overwhelming. As I remember it, everything was gone. It wasn’t just our belongings that were washed away, it was our lives.

I have a snapshot image in my mind that stands out as strong as any of the others from that day. I’m pulling a kayak up the shore as far as I possibly could. It might have been mine or it might have been Trevor’s. I don’t know. I’m thinking to myself that this is the highest that I’ve ever been. “F*ck DMT, I thought. DMT is nothing compared to this. This is on a completely different level. This is as high as someone can possibly be. There is no being higher than this. Every book that I ever read somehow came together and foreshadowed this moment. Every instant in my life had led to this moment. I could see it all laid out like a map. Every person I’d ever met, every path I’d ever walked, every step I’d ever step, every breath of air that I’d ever breathed, it all had happened to lead to this moment.

Reality was literally ripping apart in front of me. I was peaking on all four hits of acid and I couldn’t hold on. How I was even able to wrap my mind around going out into the water and retrieving our things is absolutely beyond me. I turned around and looked at Trevor. He was just standing there looking down. “What are you doing?!?!” I screamed.

“It’s all gone,” he said. “Everything is gone.”

I told him that he was wrong. That we had to save what we could. I remember pointing to the water, but realizing that he was right. I had completely lost hold of this world. I wasn’t even comprehending what was going on. All that I knew was that the sun was one way and that the gaping black hole that was the lake was in the other direction, and I needed to save anything I could from being sucked into that chasm. But Trevor was right. It was too late. Everything was gone.

And then I blacked out.

I used to drink a lot in college, something that I rarely do anymore, and when I do it now, it’s never close to a point of blacking out. So I know what a blackout is, and I really don’t like calling what happened “blacking out” but I don’t know what else to call it. I guess I could say that I “unplugged” or that I “turned off.” Whatever it was, I was no more.

In retrospect, I was thrown into a world that is unlike anything that I can put into words. I became god. I looked down at the entire universe below me, and I understood every molecule. I was every molecule. I was the biggest of big and the smallest of small. I literally became everything. I was Trevor and Trevor was me. I became infinity and I literally lived through the manifestation of everything that ever has, ever will, or ever could happen. I became every blade of grass and every drop of rain. I was *literally* everything. Every possibility that could happen unfolded before me.

I struggle to put it into words, because I’m only scratching the surface, but this is the best that I can do. Nothing could have prepared me for that. And so that’s why I say that I “blacked out.” I was no more.

This becoming of everything lasted forever—literally. I was born and lived a billion lives, and I died a billion deaths. Every possible manifestation of reality that ever could exist unfolded before my eyes. The “self” that was me before disappeared, and I watched it.

I realized that I am and have always been “god” and that this life that I have lived has merely been a construct that I’ve built for myself to play with. The best way that I can really describe it is to point to a short presentation by Alan Watts called “The Dream of Life.” He says “So then, let’s suppose that you were able every night to dream any dream that you wanted to dream. And that you could for example have the power in one night to dream 75 years of time or any length of time you wanted to have. And you would naturally as you began on this adventure of dreams, you would fulfill all of your wishes. You would have every kind of pleasure, you see. And after several night of seventy five years of total pleasure each, you would say ‘well, that was pretty great. But now lets have a surprise. Lets have a dream that isn’t under control, where something is going to happen to me where I don’t know what it’s going to be.’ And you would dig that and come out of that and say ‘wow, that was a close shave, wasn’t it?’. Then you would get more and more adventurous and you would make further and further out gambles as to what you would dream, and finally you would dream where you are now. You would dream the dream of living the life you are actually living today. That would be within the infinite multiplicity of choices you would have—of playing that you weren’t god. Because the whole nature of the godhead according to this idea is to play that he is not. So in this idea then everybody is fundamentally the ultimate reality. Not God in a politically/kingly sense, but god in the sense of being the self. The deep, down, whatever there is. And you’re all that, only you’re pretending that you are not.”

Well that’s what happened to me that day. I saw with absolute clarity that I have made this reality for myself as a dream. That I have lived this life disconnected from understanding that I created this for myself and for the world, but in that moment I could see it. I stayed there forever.

It was a completely traumatic experience. It was literally death, because death was within the possibilities that I experienced. But it was death in that I watched myself end, and I came to accept that I would never be the same. I knew that I would never be able to go back to the life that I had been living for the last thirty years. I remember even thinking, “Okay then self, I want to see how you’re going to put reality back together and make this all normal again, because I know that you can’t. You made this reality start by beginning with birth, but it will never go back to that reality again. You’ll have to start over at birth. The whole world has fallen apart now.” It was like an atomic bomb had erupted and not only was my life no more, but nobody’s reality could be the same. It was all over. Traumatic doesn’t even get close to describing it. It was the beginning and end of everything all at the same time. It was the ultimate coincidentia oppositorum.

Then somehow, beyond all odds, it ended.

I watched as reality was reconstructed before my eyes. I knew that it was all an illusion though. I was being “plugged back into he Matrix” but I had seen the other side. I knew that all these other people in the world were just manifestations of the imagination. It was all an illusion. And I remember looking to my right and seeing my own shoulder.

It caught me off guard to see and recognize myself. I was back in my body. I followed my arm down to the elbow and then down to my hand. My dick was in my hand and I was pissing. I was sitting in my kayak, floating in the middle of the lake pissing into my boat. There were other boats around me, but they were a ways off in the distance—not far enough that they couldn’t tell what I was doing though. They could see me pissing in my boat, but I didn’t care, because I knew that they were just illusions.

And then over the course of literally two or three minutes, all of reality reconstituted itself and came back together. I wasn’t even tripping on LSD anymore. I was completely back down to earth and sober. Sitting in my boat, my dick in my hand, and pissing into my kayak.

I wasn’t sure exactly where I was on the lake, but I knew that I was on Lake Powell and that I was alone.

Where’s Trevor? I wondered. I know that Trevor is just a figment of my imagination, but then again, this reality is back. It matters where he is. Did I dream him up completely? Did I come out here alone? How did I even get out here?

The back of my kayak was empty, but that’s where my cooler should have been. I wasn’t wearing a shirt, but then I wondered about the LSD and my other drugs. How much of this had been a dream? How much had I put back together in this new reality? I opened up the dry hatch between my legs and was shocked. It was like nothing even happened. My dry box was there. My cellphone was there. My drugs were all there. It was like nothing had even happened. I pulled out my phone and checked the time. It was exactly 5pm.

But what had happened to Trevor?

The world was still shaky. I felt sober, but after experiencing infinity, I was very much shaken. I also didn’t know where exactly I was on the lake. I knew that I was on Lake Powell, but I didn’t know where on the lake I was or where I was in accordance with where Trevor and I had watched our lives get washed away by the wake of that giant tour boat.

So I rowed my boat to the nearby shore and got out of the kayak. I still wasn’t sure about things. It felt equally as plausible that I would stand in the water and that reality would fall back apart as it did that it would be normal. It turned out to be normal though. Everything seemed completely normal. But I needed to figure out where I was and what had happened to Trevor. I started to worry that he may have been hurt or injured when the wave came and washed everything away. That had been hours prior. I needed to find Trevor.

I wasn’t even sure which direction to row to get back to where I saw him last, but I took a guess and started rowing. I wanted to be able to recognize rock features from having paddled past them that morning, but I was tripping so hard then that nothing looked the same. I only knew that I was on Lake Powell from having spent so many weekends there already this summer, and I remembered driving there the night before. But deciding which direction to row in search of Trevor was really just the flip of a coin. I had a 50/50 chance.

I rowed for about five minutes, following the cliffs that make up the shore on that part of the lake and every time I rounded a corner, I hoped that I’d see some sign of him. Ten minutes later, I did. Off in the distance I saw a bright green glow. I remembered that he had been wearing a bright green shirt earlier that day. He was sitting up on a rock about five minutes away.

Reality was so slippery to me at that point. I still wasn’t quite sure what was going on. For the past three hours I had been in that “black out” place where nothing was real and I was experiencing every possible dimension of infinity. Now I had been reassembled into this illusion that was supposedly “reality” but I wasn’t sure how this worked. It didn’t make sense to me. How could I just be back in the “normal” world now that I knew that it was all fake and a dream built by a higher manifestation of my consciousness?

I rowed up to Trevor who was sitting up at the top of a fifteen foot cliff. He didn’t say anything at first, and neither did I. I didn’t want to look away from him though. I was so scared that if I looked away that he’d vanish and I’d be alone again. I was really quite afraid.

“Hey,” I said.

“Hey,” he replied.

At this point it was like when I pulled my boat to shore and stepped on the ground. I was testing the rules of reality.

“Can I talk to you?” I asked, and I meant that in a very literal way. I was literally asking if it was possible for us to talk in this reality.

“Yeah,” he said.

I was still so confused. Where were all of his things? Where was his boat? Where was his camping gear? How did he get there?

“Where’s your kayak?” I asked.

“It’s around the corner.” He pointed behind him towards where I was rowing, and sure enough, as I rounded the corner I recognized everything. It was the same beach that we had pulled up on earlier that day; I just couldn’t see it from where I first saw Trevor because it was hidden behind a rock outcropping. His kayak was there, the cooler was there, his camping gear, backpack, sleeping bag, and food, it was all there like nothing had ever happened.

I pulled my boat to shore and hopped out. I was so confused. Had everything been in my imagination? Had I (in the “god mode”) recreated this reality for myself after unveiling the secret to the universe, in such a way where the wave had never even come and washed our things away? Was this a new world where that had never happened? I was so lost and confused and scared.

I climbed up to the rock and sat beside Trevor and I asked him what happened. He looked at me in a cold sort of way and asked what I meant.

“The wave…”

“Yeah, what about it?”

“That happened?” I asked.

“Yeah, it happened.”

“But your stuff, and my things… didn’t they all get washed away?”

“They did, but we got them back.”

Trevor went on to explain that I had remembered the giant boat wake accurately. That we had indeed just been lounging there on the beach when the wave came and washed the entire world away. But that’s where my grasp on reality fell apart. “It was pretty f*cked up,” he explained. “But all things considered, you held yourself together pretty good during that part. It was after the wave that you fell apart.” He explained that we pulled our boats back to shore, and all of my things had been safely tucked into the dry compartment of my boat. The cooler had fallen off the back of my boat, but it never opened, so the ice remained in it and we just had to swim out after it. Most of the food was salvaged except for a loaf of bread and a pie that we’d bought at the store. Those were both water logged and lost. That and his cigarettes.

“What about your wallet and phone?” I asked, and he explained that those were both in a dry box and it was floating on surface after the boat came by. The only thing that we’d really lost other than the bread and the pie was the bong. He told me that the bong broke, and I laughed. I thought that our entire lives had washed away, but all that we’d lost was a glass water pipe.

“Then what happened?” I asked. “How did I get out in my boat?”

“You’re serious?” He looked at me in astonishment. “You seriously don’t remember?”

I insisted that I didn’t and although I wanted to explain to him what had unfolded in my universe over the next three hours, it was all too much. I didn’t know how to put it into words. Apparently however, what happened in his world wasn’t all that much more sane. He told me that I lost it after the wave. That I fell completely apart. I started sobbing and became totally incoherent. He explained that he tried to calm me, and from time to time that I’d settle down, but then I’d explode again into an absolute wreck. After an hour he told me that I settled down again and insisted that we had to go home, which I didn’t remember at all.

“I did what?”

“You got your boat, and said that we have to go home now. That our lives are ruined and that the weekend is ruined and that we have to go back home to get to work.”

“That doesn’t even make sense,” I said. “We don’t have to be back at work for three days.”

“Exactly! I was so pissed, but I couldn’t convince you. You just kept saying that ‘someone’s got to be responsible here’ and you got in your boat and rowed out into the middle of the lake. Then you just sat there for like an hour or two just looking around.” He pointed out to the middle of the lake where I had apparently been drifting all that time. “Then about an hour ago you started paddling back towards the docks.”

“And I just left you here?”

“Yep. I was pretty salty man. You really pissed me off.”

I apologized profusely to Trevor. This was like nothing that had ever happened in all of my life, and I couldn’t remember any of it. During all that time I was floating around in some other reality, completely detached from what was going on in this world.

We sat on that rock for a few minutes and decided to smoke a bowl. Trevor was forgiving of what had happened, and after fifteen minutes we walked back down to our boats to assess things. Trevor looked at me suspiciously and said, “I know you might think that this is a weird idea…”

“Go on,” I responded.

“Well I think that we should eat more acid.”

That was the spirit of our psychedelic summer, and it really goes to show a lot about Trevor. First it shows how much he liked LSD, and second it shows how quickly he could move on from the chaos of that afternoon. After some consideration, I agreed and we both dosed another two tabs.

We rowed back onto the lake and continued in the same direction as we had been going that morning as a heavy storm formed off in the distance. At first I was scared that it was going to roll in on us, but as the sun set, the storm just held its position about ten miles away. It became dark and the sky off in the distance sparked with lightning bolts every twenty seconds while we floated there silently watching it off in the distance. It had been a truly wild day.

After it became dark we rowed to shore, threw out our sleeping pads and bags, and fell asleep under the stars. I barely got any sleep that night because there was so much acid still in my body. I wasn’t tripping anymore at that point, but I could still feel the electric buzz. I don’t know why I didn’t just eat a Xanax to fall asleep, but I guess my brain was just too scrambled to straight.

The next morning I woke up before Trevor when the sun was just starting to glow off in the distance. The water was dead calm because no boats were on the lake yet, so I went out rowing. I was completely exhausted from the day before and from two nights without adequate sleep, but I needed to get out on the lake and process what had happened.

I’m still processing what happened today. What I’ve told you today is just 1/100th of what actually unfolded that day. It was the most intense experience of my life. I’ve done the five dried grams in silent darkness method on many occasions, and once with six grams. I’ve blasted through with DMT enough times to last a lifetime. But what happened that day was beyond anything that I’d ever even imagined being possible. I suspect that for as long as I live I’ll be trying to make sense of it.

I spent a lot of time on Lake Powell as the summer went on. Trevor got caught up with work, as did our other friend, and they never were able to join me again, although we remained close while at work, and I did bring my dealer out to the lake one time in August after his girlfriend broke up with him. We tripped together out there too, but things never got as far out of hand as they did that one day with Trevor.

Through the entire summer and into the fall I figure that I ate about forty tabs of LSD. After the lake became too cold to row anymore, I started hiking mountains on the weekend and would eat acid almost every time, and when the mountains became dusted with snow, I started bringing LSD to the Grand Canyon where temperatures are warm down below the rim year round. Just last week in fact I ate four tabs over the course of the day, but it was nothing like that trip on the lake; instead, I ate them one tab at a time and just redosed throughout the day.

It’s December now though, and soon the year will be over. I have one trip left in which I’ll be going out backpacking for five days by myself, and I’m considering eating LSD throughout the entire week while I’m out there. I know that a tolerance will build, but I figure that if I bring twenty tabs or so, that I’ll have enough to redose again and again and even considering tolerance I should be able to stay high. If and when that happens, I’ll report back.

But for now, this has been the story of my psychedelic summer.

I hope that you’ve enjoyed.



Edited by TheScientificMethod (12/20/16 08:45 PM)


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OfflineRR42013
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Registered: 07/03/13
Posts: 1,013
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Re: Another Psychedelic Summer [Deep LSD Trip Report] [Re: TheScientificMethod]
    #23946141 - 12/21/16 01:27 PM (7 years, 1 month ago)

Sometimes you get slung shot out into infinity. That was a good read thanks.


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OfflineSpaceDawg
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Registered: 09/01/14
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Re: Another Psychedelic Summer [Deep LSD Trip Report] [Re: RR42013]
    #23958537 - 12/26/16 02:59 PM (7 years, 1 month ago)

good read man!


--------------------
I must not fear.
Fear is the mind-killer.
Fear is the little-death that brings total obliteration.
I will face my fear.
I will permit it to pass over me and through me.
And when it has gone past I will turn the inner eye to see its path.
Where the fear has gone there will be nothing.
Only I will remain.


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OfflineGRAVE
trippy by nature
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Re: Another Psychedelic Summer [Deep LSD Trip Report] [Re: TheScientificMethod]
    #24032493 - 01/23/17 04:45 AM (7 years, 7 days ago)

Quote:

TheScientificMethod said:
"Another Psychedelic Summer"
By The_Scientific_Method



It caught me off guard to see and recognize myself. I was back in my body. I followed my arm down to the elbow and then down to my hand. My dick was in my hand and I was pissing. I was sitting in my kayak, floating in the middle of the lake pissing into my boat. There were other boats around me, but they were a ways off in the distance—not far enough that they couldn’t tell what I was doing though. They could see me pissing in my boat, but I didn’t care, because I knew that they were just illusions.

And then over the course of literally two or three minutes, all of reality reconstituted itself and came back together. I wasn’t even tripping on LSD anymore. I was completely back down to earth and sober. Sitting in my boat, my dick in my hand, and pissing into my kayak.






HOLY SHIT DUDE BUAHAHAHA.

I experienced the dick in hand comeback when I went through my ego death. I had the infinity whiteout experience, followed by a come to of dick in hand WTF is this reality, followed by finding my best friend and hoping that maybe he was real and not understanding shit about what was happening/had happened. Fucking to a T mate. BEAUTIFULLY WRITTEN.


--------------------


Journeys taken: Psilocybe cubensis, Psilocybe Cyanescens, MDMA, MDA, Methylone, San Pedro, Ketamine, Anesket, Peruvian torch, LSD, 25c, DMT, Float tank, Yerbamina.


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OfflineTheScientificMethod
Psychonautic Explorer & Writer
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Registered: 02/20/14
Posts: 632
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Last seen: 22 days, 2 hours
Re: Another Psychedelic Summer [Deep LSD Trip Report] [Re: GRAVE]
    #24032624 - 01/23/17 07:12 AM (7 years, 7 days ago)

Thanks for the feedback man. I'm actually not all the surprised that you've had the same experience. In a weird way, it actually sort of makes sense. I guess that it's strange that you returned to "reality" in the same way that I did--with your dick in your hand--but otherwise, I think it should be expected. The psychedelic experience has taught me to expect this overlapping of the human experience.

Hopefully your trip turned out to be equally as enlightening and had a happy ending too.

Much love my friend.

Stay trippy.


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Offlinebarbwire
Stranger
Registered: 11/10/16
Posts: 10
Last seen: 6 years, 11 months
Re: Another Psychedelic Summer [Deep LSD Trip Report] [Re: TheScientificMethod]
    #24060065 - 02/02/17 12:18 PM (6 years, 11 months ago)

Quote:

TheScientificMethod said:

“Here. Put this in your mouth.”






That's the point I knew that this was going to be an interesting read :laugh:

Actually I knew right from the beginning due to how goddamn well written this is


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