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Dose: 30g “Atlantis” sclerotia in total (probably ATL#7), alone in a hotel room (15g followed by a re-dose of 15g after 1 hour). This was potent sclerotia – I’d guess the equivalent in dried cubes would be in the region of 5 grams.
Do you feel like a molested cat? Are you wearing a moon suit? Do grinning maniacs in Stetson hats man the bars deep underground within your hallucination? Does the trip hit so hard that you check all your teeth are still there? Good… then I’m not the only one.
Taken from an old trip journal, the report below was written during a very harsh trip which gradually intensified into an overwhelming feeling of dread. At the peak of the trip, I had a terrifying sense that my doom was imminent, I was facing the wrath of God, a condemned man about to be dragged to hell before I had time to repent (reading the 1930s occult novel The Devil Rides Out in the days before the trip might have been a bad idea). It wasn’t exactly an “ego death” trip with that amazing sense of bliss and peace and so on, but once I’d reached the point of giving up, I felt like I had “died” within the trip and been allowed to come back.
The second part of the trip, after the peak, was completely unhinged. The gist of my ramblings, from this point on, are that I had “become God,” as though it was a job you could be randomly appointed to, like jury service. In my mind’s eye I pictured some tiny little office where prayers came through on fax machines. The universe was some kind of toy, life was an amusement park ride with no refunds, and the job itself – Playing God – was a nightmare.
The first part of the trip is fun to read back 12 years later, it captures the strangeness of the gradual descent into terror and madness. Once the re-dose hits, it’s a downward spiral. The second part is an irritating delusional ramble which you can skip or skim - I’m posting it as an example of how messed-up your thought processes can be when the mania of a trip is out of control; a grandiose delusional mindfuck caused by a high dose, and overthinking instead of relaxing during the second half of the trip.
There were a few prompts and questions I’d written on different pages of my trip journal <like this> which is why I’m occasionally answering apparently random questions about the trip. In the report I mention a few of the tracks on my tripping playlist, so I’ve added some YouTube links to recreate the vibe.
Part One – 16 Shades of Hell
Chewing sclerotia and listening to Rapoon. Very bitter, presumably alkaloid, taste.
Boards of Canada - The Devil is in the Details. Feel quite relaxed now. Was feeling a bit nervous earlier - I remember how fierce this can be. A 15g initial dose should be fairly steady.
I can feel my pulse increase slightly, with a slight sensation in my temples of the drug starting to infiltrate my brain. A subtle feeling that seems to affect my vision ever so slightly. I seem to be staring directly at the surfaces of objects rather than just enough to grasp the detail of the room, like you would normally.
First CEV - visual field has stabilized into a kind of black & white backdrop, like a cartoon but with the lights off. A swan or something gliding behind scenery, a fleeting appearance, very weak CEV.
Weak CEV, like ideas fixing into place on a screen behind my eyes. The facets of stealth technology. Fighter cockpit windscreens. Maroon and purple tessellations. Sharply angled triangles.
CEV of cartoon children, very badly drawn, marching over a yellow backdrop. Very weak - like I'm thinking it but visualizing it in the wrong place.
Mild onset, I'd say this is suitable for newbies. I feel tired and a bit cold.
My head starts to feel a bit strange. I notice my earphones. My hands are clammy. I am in a state of nervous tension, writing with cold hands and trying to breathe calmly.
I think the beige bedspread on the bed opposite is starting to "breathe" like a slow ripple. It feels like an effect of visual attention. I am drawn to a particular spec on its surface.
CEV - What can only be described as 'dripping ghosts'. Fluorescent backdrop, dangling figures like novelty keyrings, repeated. Jangling in time to the music.
With eyes closed it feels like a large advertising sign is right in front of my face, with a bus behind it. Those illuminated advertising signs. I think of something and my CEV develop from there.
Slightly distractable. I was seeing box lanterns, with a light purple glow, like a stylized greetings card design. There are soft colors and neon lights.
Peripheral vision starts to warp. Music: Nitrogen – Intoxica. I feel more trippy. I try to imagine what is happening in my brain but this is my brain - it can't be anything else.
This trip feels too light - it's slightly uncomfortable. I feel normal with hallucinogenic effects - it should be the other way around.
+ 1 hour
Alarm goes off - eating the rest of the sclerotia. Another 15g box.
I feel 'paused'. I imagine a cartoon girl floating in a cartoon city. My eyes are open but I still have CEV.
I see stylized assembly-line machinery. Pots of colorful parts. CEV are starting to improve.
<Describe OEV & objects in room>
At a superficial level 'everything looks normal'. Move along. Nothing to see. My attention gets caught on some random memory. I write it down and the duvet around me starts to whirl. The shadows move as though the lights behind me are moving. I imagine I am in a child's bedroom. If I lift my head, I am obviously in room 609.
I have eaten all 30g in total. I feel relatively normal. If I tried to concentrate my brain would suddenly push forward with new visuals, as though my brain stem is now an information superhighway. I am becoming wired but I still feel surprisingly normal.
I eat a piece of chocolate and wash my hands. I move in a slow, deliberate way as though I am wearing a moon suit. I write in abnormal tenses. I am stuck in the wrong tense.
I stare like a lunatic and my bedroom seems to gather around me. The bedclothes pulsate - but now they are still again. This is a tricksy drug, stealthily invading your peripheral vision. I see women with wings, wing-walking on old-fashioned airplanes.
I give up. Is this supposed to happen? I feel sleepy.
I jerk awake and almost feel normal. An invasion of the abnormal into the normal. I see cartoon figures grimly attacking across the central reservation. My mood seems to be bleak, changing like the weather. My thoughts get dragged into weird scenarios, where grinning maniacs in Stetson hats man the bars deep underground within your hallucination. There is no sense to this. And then you remember what this is like. Your point of view collapses and returns. You seem to fall through yourself. You hear the sound of an elevator but you are not moving. You write in unusual tenses and strange tints of pastel appear in shadows across your vision, like you are falling asleep within your hallucination and dreaming that you are writing.
That was a bit weird. Did I fall asleep? I feel as though I have woken up into some kind of cold waiting room, inside my hallucination. There is my hotel room and there are underground spaces and I do not know why I write this.
I see collapsing papier-mâché shapes. Earthlights. This track is making me nervous. I feel something build.
Asleep at the controls. My senses on overdrive. I don’t like the feeling that I am taking drugs, but that state of mind is just an effect of the drug itself. Thought loops. A loss of control. Sweating zebras.
The lesson is – don’t fight it. Adapt. I remember hospital rooms. Music that switches your emotions. When you are asleep and awake at the same time. When you lose your sense of self and you are everywhere.
You want to fall asleep and you close your eyes and you try to hold the pen and you are falling through yourself, falling through skyscrapers. Now I feel like a teenager with a stupid diary. Changing emotional landscapes.
+1 hour 30 mins
This drug twists your entire mental state. I am losing myself.
There are bits of sclerotia in my mouth like broken teeth. This is like being propelled somewhere. I feel like I am in convoy. My attention is distracted.
The same CEV – twisting boxes overlaid into the shape of a face. Twisting in time to the music. I can’t describe it but I see it. Everything convulses within itself.
The same dizziness of ideas. I love this music – it’s so uncompromising. Hallucinations so strong that you have to check you are still in possession of your remaining teeth. Amusement rides where the attractions attack you. Ridiculous riddles and dangerous creatures. Come closer.
My eyes are watering. I have a swallowing reflex. I wipe my nose. I write in pretentious tenses. I do not ask myself difficult questions. I speak in riddles. I come and go.
When drugs attack. My surroundings are sharp. And cold.
The awfulness wears off after a while and my doctors assure me that my nightmares are just an effect of my insanity.
I feel dangerous and delusional. I feel like a molested cat. My insides are out. On a punishing schedule.
The devil rides out. And no-one is home.
The feeling of going crazy. There are tears on my face. My drugs are more sane than I am.
<How lucid are you?>
Not very. Sensory jumble. A need to fall asleep within my hallucination.
A feeling of judgement. Swallowing.
Facing unpleasant realities. Who am I?
I feel punished. I do not enjoy this.
A change of track. Relax.
I give in to this because there is no alternative. The evil god that lurks within my hallucinations. And it comes to this. I am not lucid. I am falling into a dangerous hallucination. I need to sleep.
I see bones. Frameworks of bones. Bones everywhere. The stuff of nightmare. A TV that is switched off and transmits awfulness.
I am myself and I am horrible.
+ 2 hours
My condition is stabilizing. My framework of delusional nausea is transmitting awfulness everywhere.
People are not toys. Remember that.
CEV – driving persecution on all channels. Wires in my brain.
I yawn. The tigers are here.
Driving music with ‘crazy’ as the chief lyric might be thought somewhat unwise in this situation. Do you wish to punish yourself, sir?
I am mixed up in improbable nonsense and my only response is bemused surprise and incomprehension.
If this is “strong but smooth” I would suggest that whoever sold you this hallucination ought to develop a more appropriate vocabulary in order to describe it.
Christ on a bike this is awful. The land of green ginger.
Driving insanity. Plagues of miasma. The devil rides out.
The poison from within. The curing from without.
I am stronger than this but only just.
I cannot handle this and I need to fall asleep.
Show me peace and leave me alone.
I feel hungry but please do not feed my hallucinations. They may be unstoppable and they are certainly very unpleasant.
I cry shenanigans and I pray for an intervention from forces within myself that I may feel the need to use.
I fight the insanity within for your safety without. Do not trust me.
Do not repeat this. I feel the need to name the insanity that is driving my persecution and the only reason I resist is because I know what I have to face within myself. My suggestions are rejected and I fight for our souls. I punish my tomorrow and I must not [?]. I write in unusual tenses on borrowed time and I pray for forgiveness in a language I barely comprehend.
They count the seconds in the moments between the bouts of the awfulness of the memories they try to forget. I spoke to God. He says “Die only in your dreams, and live without sin.”
+ 2 hours 30 mins
I pray for release from the devils which torment me. Never again. This is 16 shades of hell. I cannot fight, let alone face, let alone try to describe
Forgiveness. This is acceptable. Your honor, it began in the [?] and has been growing worse
<Are you enjoying yourself?>
Not really, no. Help me!
We fought monsters in the deep oceans. We are terrified. I am falling into the hell I foresee.
+ 3 hours
There is more.
Lost cities and fallen hopes. The metaphysics of catastrophe.
And so it begins. He never did make himself very clear.
God says: Die whenever you want.
Play God. You will understand.
I say: Play God I say: Play God
That is your homework, you idle cunt.
God says: You better hope that your God dies before you do. But he won’t. I’ll see to that.
<I like sclerotia because…>
The greatest hallucination of them all --> Death
-------------------- I wrote that, but I meant something else
See notes at the top - this part of the trip is nonsensical delusional rambling, included for completeness as an example of 'losing the plot'. Feel free to skip.
If you ever wake up, it’s bad news.
I have unfinished business. 31 years* of unfinished business. *delete as appropriate
You miserable, miserable fucking sinners.
If you “think” you’ve had a nightmare, you haven’t [?]
Only the real nightmares kill you and the only real nightmare is playing God. It takes a while to understand and there are no instructions when you are older [?]
God says: There is only 1 universe and there are no instructions. Sorry. I was busy. You would be busy too. I’m sure you understand. You don’t? I’m sure you will.
No, I’m sure you will
No, I’m really, really fucking sure
There is only 1 God and it is you
God 3.1 --> Play God --> the No.1 universe simulator – coming to a universe near you
If he doesn’t like the job, he may decide to quit.
God is a web 2.0 interface with new added helpful functions, for fuckwits.
You fuckwits! Fucking fuckwits!
Do your homework kids!
God says – do your homework quick, before someone else does.
Scrubbing at your souls doesn’t work.
I hope the mole doesn’t grow back.
I hope it was just a nightmare. But it seemed really convincing to me. At the time…
The universe is… uh… just like a film… uh… just watch it! Watch! It’s cool
No it isn’t. It’s frightening. Think of the children.
Fucking killjoys. The killjoys will kill you in the end. Hence the name.
God is real and life is a practical joke. But at least there is a refund! We hope
Playing God is like giving someone a toy. Only they don’t enjoy it. They would if they were older. Then they’d understand.
God says: Give me your children. But do you trust him? Stranger danger.
If there really was a God and he knocked on your door, you’d probably tell him to go away.
God says: You get what you deserve.
All your worth is only measured in bribes. You were only first in the queue because I was bribed. That’s the dirty secret of playing God. Cash rules.
The dirty secret of playing God --> cash rules € On the other hand --> the currency is sliding
The good news is that you get to blame the government when it all goes wrong
The universe is just a toy. A toy. Get it? Only you don’t like it. Create your own you ignorant fucking cunt I’m cleverer than you
My lesson: (it’s only short. You would have to be stupid to fail to understand. If you fail to understand, you weren’t worth saving). If there are exceptions to moral rules those exceptions will only grow bigger.
Someone will have to pull the plug and it’s a difficult decision. Playing God is not nice work, but someone’s got to do it.
The bad news is that the universe we woke up inside had only 1 instruction, which read “make yourself at home.” And of course, that’s where the problems really began.
My chosen title is: The whole sorry fucking story of modern human history.
I want to give you everything, but I can’t. Sorry. Do it more than once and I’m sure you’ll agree.
All the people who ever claimed to really die were just faking it- the shocking truth as revealed by God. -SUN HEADLINE
To die is to have all of your sins unravel before you, while you re-experience them for yourself. Better make it short. If you wake up before the nightmare is over… it’s not good
OK. I think we understand it better now.
To die as a sinner is not particularly pleasant, that’s all I can really tell you --> the number 1 experience of all time --> the best amusement ride you ever knew
God says: Die only in your dreams and live without sin.
The question is: Do your nightmares catch up with you when you are awake, or when you are asleep?
God says: Are you really that fucked that you can’t understand me? Like, I only left you alone for 5 minutes…
To be redeemed is to wake up into your own personal amusement park. Make of that what you will.
The nightmare begins when you awake into an empty house and the only instruction is - make yourself at home.
Your God will come back for you. Your personal God. The only one there ever really was.
I spent 31 miserable years trying to play God, and it’s a very hard job.
Sorry Your God is dead
God’s homework: Leave an instruction that is comprehensible to your next -- [?] please Cheers, God
The bad news is that God is a randy, lazy cunt. Like all men
A universe with a God is better than a universe without one.
There is no book big enough that you could ever reach the end of before you died and really understood it all.
Better to die in your dreams than live the life of a sinner.
Cheers, says God.
God says: In this universe, there is no God. Sorry (what a bastard) God says – sorry I was a bit shy at first. It took me a while Like 2009 years.
Better get yours before God gets his!
If you really, really failed to understand and are really, really thick, play God. Play God.
I was so busy creating universes and stuff that I forgot to explain myself properly.
What, you want a refund? Are you fucking serious? Really serious? Ask God for a refund and when he explains everything to you, you won’t want one. Let bygones be bygones and all that…
My message to God – It’s not right to leave everyone wondering how. LIFE IS A GIFT
God says – I didn’t think you would like it. I was a bit shy
If you keep making exceptions of everything, you will lose out in the end (the No.1 moral rule)
Life – the only thing that ever really did have a money-back guarantee
I say: You are trying to drive with no hands on the wheel You will be aloof. Be watchful, and suspicious of everyone. Don’t clasp their hand. It’s not the kind of a hand you can clasp in friendship (the only instructions of the redeemer).
My personal nightmare is to wake up into a house with only one instruction – ‘make yourself comfortable’ – and awaiting the return of the occupant. e.g. *we were pleased with the condition of this universe *it was horrible
My advice: When you abandon all hope, things start to improve. But not before. Trust me. It’s fucking hard work.
I asked if anyone wanted to play God and I had suspiciously few applicants. Nobody was interested.
Of course, second time around you might disagree. But maybe not God says: get off the ride whenever it really makes you feel sick.
To wake up into a universe with no friends is hard work. Rewarding opportunities near you. Who says there aren’t any ‘real’ jobs anymore?
I gave you a universe. You didn’t like it. I took it away from you. End of.
There are no instructions. Trust me.
How old? How long have you got? God’s gift – as much time as you need. Trust me.
Life is an amusement park, but all the rides make you sick. In the end.
If this is not the end, then it’s not the end. Simple! Jesus, some people can’t take a joke.
God says – when you are older you will understand. In this universe you need to be really really old to really understand, and then the story is shit anyway.
There is only one story and if you don’t like it you get to write a new one. Trust me. Playing God is harder than you can believe.
Did you see the end of that movie?* You missed it? You really should. Then everything would make sense. Sort of. *If you disagree with God, there is no obligation to view
23:49 If you don’t like. There is only one film you really need to see. Groundhog Day. That’s your life, that is. Repeat as nauseum, but after a while it will make you feel sick.
They have been trained to hate. Don’t argue with them. But I am your saviour… e.t.c
After writing on the backs of the pages, from the end of the notebook to the front, I finally run out of paper and write this inside the front cover as a parting shot:
‘The Universe’ is a good film but some cunt said you had to be 18 to see it. 18 in my years. You are too young to understand, go away. There is only 1 job and that job is God. It’s quite hard, I assure you. You don’t believe me, well read on…
Read on. At your leisure. You will have all the free time to understand and I hope you enjoy it. Cunt. (Snide remark by God, the cause of it all).
Front Cover of trip journal - an exercise book
Subject: Playing God. I didn’t like it.
Oh, you didn’t like it, well play God! Play God! You [?]!
-------------------- I wrote that, but I meant something else
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