Hello
My first post here 
I previously had a few profound experiences with acid, but nothing on the scale of what happened to me below
It started a few weeks ago. I tried 3g of dried mushrooms for starters. Barely any effect. I tried again 8 days later with 5 grams which normally would be considered a heroic dose. This time I did the lemon tek because I suspected there could be something wrong with the former form of consumption. I felt quite a stronger body load and beautiful visuals but that aside, the experience felt very flat compared to my previous experiences with LSD. Also due to the lemon tek, it lasted barely 1,5h. I was disappointed. Full 12 days later I tried with 9 grams of the same flush, raw, no lemon tek. At this point I wanted this to be my heroic dose and that was the remainder of my first crop, so I figured there was no sense to divide it. I received something of the order of a solid 1 LSD stamp-worth of trip strength. I decided I belonged to the unique, chosen group of people who simply need a lot more or who just can't get on a higher plane with psilocybin alone . Given my age and relative experience with psychedelics I can't fathom now how I could be this conceited 
And so, stupid begins. I eat the entire second flush, 12g total this time. I eat it all 5 days after the previous one, almost as an afterthought. Since 9 grams of the previous crop didn't do so much and I still probably have tolerance after such a short period... That's how I discovered that consecutive flushes from the same substrate have different strength, and not always in the direction you'd suspect
After 20 minutes I already knew this was on a whole other level since by that point I haven't even finished eating and I was already tripping balls. I removed myself to a dark room where I lied down. The bodily sensations were ecstatic and the visuals more real than the reality outside. But 50 minutes since starting eating it was still accelerating, and soon there came a moment where mind tricks and deep breathing techniques succumbed to a single realization. "Oh no, what have I done...". It spiraled out of control very quickly and I remember very little of the following 2 hours. But I remember clinging with my arm to the cold wall repeating to myself whenever 'the self' would emerge that the wall is part of objective reality. So the following is strictly what I remember during the comedown, about 3 hours in, when I managed to crawl from the dark bedroom to the lit living room
The entire universe was confined to the perception of the room. That was the entire universe. It wasn't too visual. It was an immense feeling that the consciousness, the experience, is all there is. Everything that exists was some kind of vibration, pure information of which almost infinite majority makes absolutely no sense, and that the world I experienced so far and my consciousness in it was a result of some kind of Darwinian fight of various specks of information that fight for survival, to amalgamate into people, tables and rocks, history, and my consciousness to observe it all. And calling it 'Darwinian' is at the same time misleading because in equal measures it felt like a boltzmann brain that pops into existence by infinitely small chance, yet in the grand scheme of things - inevitably. So it was both.
It was also very shaky in nature. Just when my eyes were opened to what I perceived as the true nature of reality, I felt the universe I experienced to be so feeble, physicality of it ready to fall apart at any moment. I struggled to be connected back to what I perceived as "mainstream". The "mainstream" was a part of the universe that was making sense to me. It was the part of the universe that consisted of complex macrostructures such as cats, rocks, relationships, mundane things that were set apart from chaos by being able to survive as real things by means of that Darwinian struggle
Then I started to regain my faculties a bit more and the paranoia transformed into something conceptually more familiar. I noticed that I was sweating, and mucus was pouring out of my nose. I began to (very strongly) suspect that whatever we perceived as the virus outbreak has got me, and this is how it ends for all the terminally ill. At this point I started to remember that I ingested a large dose of mushrooms, but that fact was twisted into another realization. That they weren't mushrooms. It wasn't a virus either, at least not in the usual sense. I felt that me and the entire humanity was invaded by an alien race (hold your laughter). The virus, the mushrooms, they were at least two sides of the same underlying attack. I recalled various youtube videos and audio recordings that enticed to try the mushrooms to explore consciousness but also pondered the fact that these might be somehow alien entities. It was a very clear thought at this point. "So that's how they get us". It was like the aliens simply decided "OK, we're closing this party". I didn't know why. I didn't know since when it started, but I was sure the humanity has just lost the entirely one-sided war with an alien race, and everyone realizes that just before the end, like entering the event horizon from which no information can return, so you can't warn the others. It was terrifying on the existential level but interestingly, I didn't feel afraid with my body. Meaning my heart didn't race, I wasn't shaking. It was the finality of it. I realized we didn't have the chance from the start, and I let it go
There were several consecutive delusions after that such as my fate being the inevitable fate of a junkie. A theme that was once again intertwined with Darwinism and my life being a series of events that landed me on the couch in that state, about to die as a creature who didn't make the evolutionary cut
And then during the next few hours I was finally surfacing, absolutely exhilarated that the delusions have ended and I started analyzing the structure of society from different angles and thinking how grateful I am for deciding to take this dose. Thinking that the angles from which I was observing the truths that I hold would not be possible without going all the way in. I marveled at it and thought that every person in the world who's mentally healthy should definitely try to go all the way. That they lose something very important by not doing so at least once in their lifetime. Even the delusional parts gave insight into my behavior in what-if scenarios and I think allowed me to peer into the mindset of mentally ill
Given the repeated realizations that somehow or another this was the end for me, humanity, the entire universe, I don't feel like I have a PTSD or any psychological damage at all. It's as if the messed up mindset that I had during the beginning and the middle of the trip made perfect sense at the time so I accepted my fate as it was. And it made perfect sense afterwards that I was under the influence of a powerful psychedelic, and as profound as it was, the psyche brushed it off as simply a brief trip to the world of madness
I certainly plan to do this again perhaps in a few months
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