What was your freakiest dope freakout?

[Johanna]

I will never forget this as long as I live . . . . We headed out of Denver east on 70 across the High Plains, my lady driving, I riding in the passenger seat. We toked up some Sinsemilla bud until we got well and truly stoned. We must have been doing about 70 mph as we pulled alongside the car on our right and drove alongside it. I just glanced over at it. Then did a double take.

There was nobody in the car.

Whoa . . .

When I looked again, I saw that the driverless car was being towed on a hitch by the car in front of it.

But for a couple seconds there, I was seriously buggin'!

[Broken Doll]

I've had one really bad one.

I was in a car with two teenage guys [one was my stepbrother, but I hardly knew him at this stage, and the other was his friend] who were using their bong while trying to drive in busy traffic in the city of Melbourne. I had a few cones and after a while became extremely paranoid. I was freaking out in the back seat that we were all going to die in a car crash.

[Wicked Blue]

I was only indirectly involved in this one...
My best friend was hanging out with this guy, and they decided to take a few hits of acid. He started freaking out while the were watching tv, and runs out into the street. She's tripping, doesn't know what to do, and calls me at 1 am crying. I tell her to go get him, and she hangs up. When she got outside, the guy was screaming and flipping out in the street, and someone called the cops. An ambulance showed up, and they took the guy away to the hospital. She called me again from the emergency room. She couldn't go home to her parents tripping, and this guy wasn't going home, so she was stuck. She was also upset because as she was standing outside smoking a cigarette, a dwarf came up to her and told her smoking would stunt her growth, and started laughing. How bizarre is that? Anyway, I told her to call another friend of ours, who had her own place, and see if she could go there. I lived at home at the time, and I would have had to answer too many parental questions if she showed up in the middle of the night.
The guy was ok, but apparently the anti-depressives he was on didn't mix well with the acid.
Rose

[RocknRoll Killing Machine]

Me and 3 other friends were driving around stoned. After going tothe 7-11, we were looking for a secluded place to smoke up. We ended up driving down a overgrown road behind an abandoned fish packing plant. At the end there was a turnaround with knee-high grass all around and a chain-link fence blocking further access. My friend half turned around and we started smoking up. After we were done, someone remarked that our surroundings looked like that of a typical horror movies. The atmosphere absolutely died after that. After about 15 seconds of this, someone checked to make sure his door was locked, and it set everyone off. Looking back, it was pretty lame, but it was an almost supernatural terror at the time.

[Eo Echo]

I got pulled over while driving stoned one time. I was alone in the car, and as the cop pulled over behind me, got out of his car approached me (in slo motion, natch), I was terrified. He said, "License and registration, please." I handed them over, he glanced at them and said, "Do you know why I stopped you?"

"No officer," I stammered. He said, "Your left taillight's out." He wrote me out a repair order, handed back my license and registration, and walked away. I was so shaken that I was still sitting there on the soft shoulder ten minutes after he left, hazards flashing tick tick tick tick tick tick tick.

[Sofa King]

I was tripping on acid one night, plain white blotter, when a pal of mine and I decided to go roast a bowl at the old skate ramp. We climbed the ladder to the top, and proceeded to smoke.

The moonlight through the woods turned into stained-glass. The woods, alive with the rustling of squirrels, became an army of the undead bent upon eating me. I could clearly see emaciated corpse-heads peeping up from the top of the ladder to the deck, waiting for their chance. So I did the only prudent thing: I kicked away the ladder.

Shortly thereafter, we decided we should go. But there was one problem. I had kicked the ladder away, so we'd have to slide down the rotting, splintered ramp. No problem. One destroyed suede jacket later we were down. The undead were still pursuing, though, so we made out fast.

Once we made our way into the street lamps, my friend excoriated me for my paranoia, and the destruction of his jacket. Then he stopped and said, "dude, you're bleeding."

I looked at my thigh and realized that my femoral artery was cut clean through. Blood rushed out, and I watched myself die a fearful, miserable death.

Then I realised that it was just a splinter in my ass, and I cooled out some. Retrospect tells me that I should not watch so many Romero films, but hey, who gets the chance to live them but the stupid and the heavily drugged?

[GuanoLad]

who gets the chance to live them but the stupid and the heavily drugged?

You say this like they are two separate kinds of people.

[Jack Batty]

Acouple come to mind ...

When I was about 14 or 15, at a party at my friends house, we were toking up in the garage. It was some very potent stuff. I sucked in a seed and almost choked on it. The coughing fit combined with the sheer ass-kicking of the pot sent me off on a glorious trip. Looking back, I think it may have been laced because I was halucinating like crazy. Tracers abounded, I heard and saw everything three times. The ceiling was pulsing colors and waving like a sea. I just sat in a corner grinning like an idiot.

Another time, I didn't freak out as much as I just saw it as the most amusing thing ever. A friend and I decided to trip and go see an Arnold movie. Unfortunately time held no meaning for us so we arrived at the theatre an hour and a half early. So he dragged me around the corner to where there was one of these "Magic" clubs. You know, the card game thingie. I was never into that stuff too heavily, and I just stood there watching what in my mind were the quintessential nerds of the century, fighting to the death over this silly game. I'm sure they were all fine people, but I was in no condition to judge. I friggin' cracked up. They all hated me and kicked me out for not taking the game seriously.

[ThisYearsGirl]

My freshman year of college, I had been smoking weed (although I really think it was laced with something else, because usually weed doesn't have such an intense effect on me) and later, I was trying to sleep, but I kept seeing these flashes near my door. I became convinced that this guy in my chemistry class was out in the hall taking pictures of me. I got so scared and paranoid, I couldn't even be in my room alone. My roommate was out of town that weekend, so I banged on every door in my hall until someone would let me sleep there.

[matt_mcl]

Originally posted by GuanoLad
who gets the chance to live them but the stupid and the heavily drugged?

You say this like they are two separate kinds of people.


Thank you very fucking much.

Anyway:

On my 18th birthday I smoked up, and then burst into tears because I was still living at home and I would never make any mark in the world and nobody appreciated me and nobody noticed me. I was profoundly depressed for three weeks after that.

[PolarField]

Originally posted by matt_mcl
who gets the chance to live them but the stupid a
On my 18th birthday I smoked up, and then burst into tears because I was still living at home and I would never make any mark in the world and nobody appreciated me and nobody noticed me. I was profoundly depressed for three weeks after that.

Aw man, that's really sad. :(

A year or two ago on a saturday night I was sitting around with my friends really stoned because it was my apartment and I didn't have to go anywhere, when suddenly I started feeling nauseous. I couldn't figure out what it was at first, I felt it must be psychological. Suddenly I realized that it was a completely real, physical need and ran upstairs without saying a word. I rushed to the bathroom, sat down on the toilet and had diarreah for a few minutes.

That was unpleasant enough high, but afterward I still felt queasy. It must have been the burrito and fries I had for dinner. After wiping, I got on my knees and vomited for three straight minutes into the toilet (which still reeked of my previous session from a few minutes before). I recall reflecting on how sharp my olfactory senses were and then I went blind. With my eyes open I couldn't see. I stayed blind, nauseous and half-paniced for 3 or 4 minutes until my vision came back.

Moral of the story: Never get food poisoning while high.

[hapaXL]

little tip for you: don't be holding the bag of brownies when an attack of the munchies takes hold.

i had 3 simultaneous trips at once on a overdose of brownies a couple of years ago.

#1: an overwhelming sense of deja vu. everything i saw was something from my childhood. the people i met were friends of mine from my youth. the campground transformed into the front lawn of my childhood home. everything i did was "just like that time when i was 10," even though "that time" never happened.

#2: every thing in the world had it own unique word. if i scratched my elbow, that was "jopelling" and the word would pound into my brain at maximum volume:
JOPELLING
JOPELLING
JOPELLING!
so i'd stop scratching. but, alas, my toungue was touching my teeth. you know what that is, don't you?
WERZATION
WERZATION
WERZATION!
it was really annoying. but it's pretty hard to avoid doing anything when everything has a word for it. i remember being particularly obsessed with the word for "first dumb schmuck to ever die from a brownie overdose"
LOSIZINSKI
LOSIZINSKI
LOSIZINSKI!

so i closed my eyes and put my head on the table. which rid me of #1, but brought #3 to my attention.

#3 bright, flashing visual images that reminded me of the opening to Love American Style, repeating over and over again. seemed like letters and numbers in horrible colors, pulsating, THROBBING.

thought it would never end, but eventually just opened my eyes and saw no hallucinations. just say no, kiddies.

[Johanna]

About the same time as in my earlier post I was friends with a dope dealer (who was also a Hare Krsna initiate -- a backsliding one; they're not supposed to do drugs). One evening over at his house he got out some sinsemilla Cannabis buds of a new variety I had never seen: they were tinged with a pale aqua color. We toked up.

That had to have been the most potent marijuana I ever experienced in my life.

Sitting on the couch I went into a trance. I felt my body levitate and hover a couple feet over the couch. Since one side was a little heavier than the other, I tipped over sideways about 175 degrees until I was floating with my head down. Then my body began to spin around and around, very rapidly. Whew! I'd never had a high like that!

[Sir Rhosis]

1991: Fresh out of the service, had been a good boy for nine years. Wondered what good ol' KY weed tasted like. Must have gotten some laced with God knows what. Lying on a very gaudy couch, floral patterns, etc. Swear to God I saw the face of Patrick Stewart in the pattern. Became very paranoid, just knew that Captain Picard was gonna kill me.

Except for one hit off a j in 1994, I haven't touched the shit since. Sometimes you can't (and shouldn't) go home again.

Sir

[5CentCigar]

I did some blotter acid with a friend of mine one summer day a few years back. We decided to take a walk around the neighborhood and enjoy the sunny day.
Well, we'd just turned the corner when we heard lots of sirens approaching at high speed. We had enough time to get seriously paraniod before a police car and an ambulance raced down the street past us. Since we were walking in that direction anyway we decided to keep going and follow the sirens.
Another block away, around another corner, we saw that the police car and the ambulance had pulled up in the street next to the inert form of a man who'd been hit by a car and he looked just like Captain Kangaroo! Same haircut, same red jacket, everything!
So my friend and I walk past this horrible scene trying to act like there's nothing unusual about seeing one of our favorite childhood TV characters lying in the street in a pool of blood. This forced calm attitude probably made us look really suspicious.
We didn't say much to each other until we'd gotten back to my friend's house. Once safely inside, my friend turned to me and said, "Dude, did we just see Captain Kangaroo get hit by a car?"
"I'm not sure", I said, "turn on the news."
We watched the news for a while and didn't see anything about Captain Kangaroo being killed by a car. We eventually got bored with the news and started in on some serious Pink Floyd music on the stereo and the whole episode faded into the background of the whole trip. To this day I'm not sure if I really saw what I think I saw.

[SoMoMom]

Back in high school, a friend (that's it a friend) went with some other friends to a subdivision under construction to park in a newly paved cul-de-sac and get high. And then the police came and stopped by. They didn't want anything from these girls, they were just looking for a run away. We didn't know anything about the run away. I mean, the girls didn't know. What a mess though! When they pulled up, one of the girls had been rolling doobies using the door to the glove box as a table. She had slammed it shut. Anyway, so the girls got their doobies rolled and were smoking them. My friend then kept freaking out and hearing sirens. Everyone thought it was really, really funny, but my friend did not and still does not think it was funny at all.

[Francesca]

A while ago, i was on *legal* medication for being a bit, er shall we say unwell. We were trying different combinations of of meds to see what worked best and we one night i had to take amytriptalene and some sleeping tablet...

I started by feeling a bit odd and then noticed that my dressing gown, hanging up in my wardrobe, seemed to be moving. I looked closer and saw two very small people clog dancing in the folds of the gown. Of course, i realised that the meds were obviously tripping me out so i lay back to enjoy the ride (having never taken illegal hallucinagenics (sp?) in my life). That was all fine and dandy and the little people were dancing quite well, but it was late so i decided to turn the light out and sleep it off. I lay in bed and looked around... and there was a big shadowy aboriginal man dancing round my bed. This was quite scary, but then a woman appeared writhing and crying on the floor by my bed. Then she knelt up and tried to get into my bed and i could feel the bed clothes being pushed aside by her. I was pretty freaked out by this because i suddenly thought... if i can feel it, is this real? So i shouted "NO!" at her and she recoiled and the dancing aboriginal man went to comfort her. The lampshade by my bed was flickering and intermittently becoming an owl and the woman was still trying to get under my covers and i kept having to shout "NO!" at her. I must've looked like an utter lunatic.

I freaked out and i wanted to get out but i was too frighted to move. Eventually, i managed to get out of the room and things got better. Little wicker baskets of flowers kept appearing by my feet :) In the end, i went back to bed and simply kept my eyes firmly closed until i fell asleep.

I didn't take amytriptalene again.

Fran

[Great Dave]

One of my friends in college -K- was especially paranoid, so we got her good a coupla times. The first time, we were at a fancy hotel, having a surprise b-day party for E. And we were on mushrooms. When he made the ramen that we brought (we were poor students, not about to pay for room service) he couldn't eat it because we forgot untensils. So I ordered 5 forks from room services. Wookiee and I were the only ones listed on the bill, so K, E, and Mike freaked out. They kept saying things like "no one orders just five forks!" When they finally brought them, 45 minutes later (how hard is it to find 5 forks?) those three were hiding in the bathtub, with the curtain pulled and the lights off. Later, to punish K for flipping out (she was teh ringleader of the trippers), I started talking in my Dr Claw voice, saying stuff like "K, I've come for your soullll." Everyone else picked up on it. She freaked wayyy out. When we started speaking normally, she said, real slowly, "I not sure if you know this, but you guys were all just possessed by demons."

Another time, again on boomers, in a wooded part of a park late at night, 6 of us got split up, me and two others, and K and the other two. A cop car had already come by and checked out our car. So when we go split up, the three of us ran to the car and moved it. We then went thru another part of the park, and came back to meet up with the other three. We told them how we had seen the pigs tow the car. K was so upset, she threw up.

It's just too fun to fuck with some people, especially when you're in the same state of mind.

Then there was the place, out in the sticks, where we used to go to toke up and run around. One saturday night we were ot there on robotussin and pot, havin' fun for a while. Then on thursday or so, we were watching TV stoned, when a news bulletin came on saying that they had found a body out there, and it looked like it had been there since Saturday night. Oh, did we freak, especially, of course, K.

As for me personally, probably the time, on acid, that I thought my face was sliding off, and that I needed a stapler or maybe some glue. Luckily, I was too stoned also to do anything about it. I don't think I would've, even if I could've.

I'm sure there's a better one I've forgotten.

[Kent4mmy]

A buddy and I were out late one night cruising around and smoking, basically wasting time with no motives whatsoever, when it became apparent that our vehicle needed refueling. Now, having spent all of our hard borrowed money on weed, we decided that our only recourse would be to "help ourselves" to some fuel. Knowing that the local college campus parking lots had always been a plentiful resource of unsuspecting vehicles in the past, we headed on over there. However, the late hour (1-2am)was to our disadvantage as the lots were nearly void of accessible vehicles from which to choose. On the way out we spotted a decidedly decommissioned utility truck being stored behind the maintenance building. It was a big, rusted box truck that looked like it hadn't been in active service for at least five years. We tapped it for two gallons (all it had) just the same.

About 1 1/2 hours later we found ourselves parked in an out of the way corner of the local supermarket lot, which was closed and deserted at that hour, putting the finishing touches on our THC induced euphoria. Within a short time we noticed a vehicle approaching the entrance to the supermarket, moving at an unusually slow pace. As the vehicle turned into the lot, we were shocked to discover that it was indeed the utility truck that we had earlier become familiar with. It made a slow sweep of the lot, traveling perhaps 2-5 mph (we were parked in a far, somewhat secluded corner), and exited back to the highway where it continued to travel at the same 2-5mph (posted speed was 45mph).

Soon thereafter, we had convinced ourselves that the vehicle was possessed by a demon and we had awakened it when we drained it's fuel tank, and now it was out looking for the perpetrators to exact revenge.

We sat there for another four hours fearing that if we left our secluded spot, the demon truck would surely sense us on the highway and put an end to our thieving ways.

In the years since, I have been unable to rationalize the appearance of that truck.

[Johanna]

Memo to self: Never touch "Hawaiian Baby Woodrose Seeds" again.

I was 19, in my sophomore year of college in St. Louis. One Saturday night I was planning to go see the Grateful Dead Movie with some friends from college. I ate the Hawaiian Baby Woodrose Seeds (which contain a compound called lysergic acid amide, not entirely dissimilar from lysergic acid diethylamide) before going. Actually, I had pounded them up and put them into capsules, because they taste absolutely disgusting if you just munch them. Even now, over 23 years later, I feel nauseated just to recall the name "Hawaiian Baby Woodrose Seeds."

It was a mistake to swallow them before setting out.

The trip came on faster than expected. I became confused on the way to Katie's house once I turned onto Hampton Avenue and couldn't remember where I was. So I pulled into the nearest place, a McDonald's. I called Katie on the pay phone from the parking lot and told her I couldn't drive any more, please come & get me. She said, "We'll be right over, hold on."

They never showed up.

I sat in my car and ran the engine to keep warm (it was February). I smoked some Cannabis and lit an incense stick while waiting. After what seemed forever, I got tired of waiting and went into the McDonald's. I ordered an orange juice — the only thing my stomach could handle. As I sat in a booth and drank it, I looked into the intensely glowing bright orangeness of the juice, I thought it looked just like molten lava deep within a volcano. Then I started peaking.

I realized that all my life had led up to this one perfect moment, that my entire destiny in existence was now fulfilled, and my life was over, I was now dead and liberated from samsara, and attained blissful samadhi. I went through the "ego death" taught by Timothy Leary in The Psychedelic Experience (based on the Tibetan Book of the Dead). I decided to go to the lavatory.

But on the way there, my legs suddenly turned to jelly and I wound up sitting on the floor of the corridor, momentarily blacked out. Next thing I knew, a couple 15- & 16-year old kids were shaking me, saying, "Come on, man, you gotta get out of here or you'll get busted!" I looked at the kid's face turning an astonishing variety of beautiful colors, blue, green, aqua, red, yellow... I calmly replied, "It doesn't matter, anyway, I'm dead now." The kid said, "No, man, you're not dead, you're just fucked up and you'll get busted if we don't get out of here!" So I went out with them and got in the back seat of their car and they drove off. I started expounding my metaphysics to them and passed out. When I came to, they handed me a beer and I suddenly felt normal again. They said, "That sure was some weird stuff you were talking, but we didn't understand any of it."

That was my flaming youth ... I haven't touched any mind-boggling substances in many years now. Don't think they made me the way I am now, because I had already been warped from the beginning. :p

[bee with an itch]

weed, hash, LSD, PCP - nothing could beat my run-in with normal everyday meds....{sets scene}:
It was an average day, finished a field hockey game, came home, felt a muscle pull in my back, scavenged for some painkillers, found some muscle relaxant and acetaminophin and tylenol with Codeine.....sweet jeebus.....about 5 minutes later, I was sitting at my computer watching the screen throb, little faces all over the walls, angellic-looking lights on my shoulders, and dogs hiding behind the sofa.....I heard my voice being called even though I was home alone and I could wave my hand in front of my face and watch a 'light-trail' follow my hand.....it was fairly intense and lasted for 2 days. It was remarkable mostly because I had only taken normal, everyday medication (yes, perhaps a bit much, but nonetheless, nothing extraordinary).......odd

[5-HT]

first off, I must strongly reccomend that no one ever do what I am about to describe

I went to a warehouse party at the packard plant in detroit, While waiting in line, I downed to 4 hits of blotter acid I brought with me. By the time I got in the building, I was tripping pretty nicely. I also had bought 40 dollars worth of Ketamine in the parking lot from this guy I knew. I had no intention of dipping into that at this point though. I got into the party( a huge ghetto ass warehouse/factory space in an almost competelty deserted area of the D) and there was such an incredibly good, happy vibe that when someone offered me some ecstacy I couldn't say no(I was young and VERY stupid back then). I took two rolls and danced for an hour or so. by that point I was out of my head. Somehow, someone convinced me that it would be a good idea to dip into the Ketamine. I did about half of what I had and then slumped onto the floor an halucinated for about an hour or two. I was working at Meijer(a big grocery/general purpose store) at the time, and all I could think about was the different flavors of Ice cream that I had been stocking all day, it was miserable. thank god my friend Marie was there to take care of me. I don't remember most of that night, but what it did teach me was that more is not necessarily better. I cut down on the trippy drugs after that, to the point where I eventually quit everything but alcohol(never went back either, ok, so I did smoke weed quite a few more times). It was the one and only time I hallucinated to the point where I no longer knew what was real and what was the drugs. It was rather scary.

[Spectre of Pithecanthropus]

Originally posted by matt_mcl


You say this like they are two separate kinds of people.


Thank you very fucking much.

Anyway:

On my 18th birthday I smoked up, and then burst into tears because I was still living at home and I would never make any mark in the world and nobody appreciated me and nobody noticed me. I was profoundly depressed for three weeks after that. [/B][/QUOTE]
Once I toked up after a bad experience and just kept repeating the scene in my mind over and over and over..... It was after a family argument (I hadn't been directly involved, but it was disturbing nonetheless). Later in the evening I went to my brother's house, and it was there we toked up. After that I was always careful not to get high unless I feeling generally OK about things.

[plnnr]

It is a toss up:

Either the long conversation I had with the giant, purple, Chuck Taylor All-Stars Converse Sneaker; or,

The night I wouldn't come off the swing set ("No, you don't understand. I was born to swing. I'm never going to stop.") I also brushed my teeth for half an hour that night. Damn, that felt sooooo good.

[Eve]

They say I'm difficult, they say I'm drunk, even when I'm not. Sure, I take dolls, 'cause I've gotta get up at five o'clock in the morning and "Sparkle, Neely, sparkle!" That psychiatrist says that I'm self destructive. So what? What do I do about it? Well, the hell with all of 'em. Even the bad publicity helps when you get to be as big as I am!

. . . Oops, sorry, I was channeling Patty Duke there for a moment . . . Guess I climbed Mount Everest and got to the Valley of the Dolls . . .

[vanilla]

Long long ago, when my former husband insisited on me taking drugs with him, I took a small white piece of paper (LSD).
I'd never even seen one before.
SO..I've read about it, and am awaiting weird stuff.
Well, I felt okay, but the pictures on the wall started getting blurred, then normal, then blurred.

I know thats not much of f afreak-out, but I was a pretty good drug user-meaning i never had any bad side effects.

And I am anti-drug. i would never take any illegal ones. I don't even like to take legal ones.

[Badtz Maru]

I guess I'm lucky, I've never had any really bad experiences on drugs.

The first time I dropped acid I had a bad trip, mostly because my friend was messing with my head. Part of me knew there were not cockroaches in my brain, worms in my nose, and that the dirt road I had to drive home on would would not open up a huge mouth and swallow my car and spit me out later into a creekbed so people would think I just drove off the road, but part of me kept imagining all those things very vividly. My friend had to give me a ride home after that, and I forgot where I lived and my Dad had to come get me.

Another time I thought I was going to have a heart attack for some reason, called a drug hotline to ask if you could have a heart attack from LSD, and they refused to give me an answer, saying that they couldn't give any medical advice. I then decided to become a born-again Christian and cleaned my room very thoroughly. I was imagining a future of giving anti-drug lectures at schools, going to church, etc. THis made the trip seem to go away, but when I stopped cleaning it came back.

All my other trips on acid had some weird and normally disturbing imagery (a friend growing bat wings, imagining that my car was a rotting corpse), but none of it bothered me.

A couple of times I got really paranoid on weed, but that passed pretty quickly. One time, though, I went downstairs in the apartment building I lived in and stole the sign in sheet because I thought that it would be used as evidence against me in some way.

[Greywolf73]

I don't have any stories that compare to the ones above but I do have a couple that stand out in my mind.
About ten years ago, after smoking pot laced with something else, I did see a giant skull in a window that moved and blinked (no, I don't know how a skull can blink either). Of course, no one else saw it and that freaked me out more than actually seeing it.

On another occasion, a friend of mine started talking about how the walls of the room were melting. I laughed at him until I looked and saw that they were indeed melting! He also said something about the trees dancing outside the window but I didn't dare look.
This was the same night that my friends and I had a long drawn-out discussion about the riddle "If a tree falls in the woods and no one is there to hear it, does it make a sound?" We all had some very valid theories, including my friend's "If a tree falls in the woods and there is no one there but a deaf bear then no, it does NOT make a sound".
Well, it made sense at the time...

[Juniper200]

When I was in high school, I had a sinus infection and I was relying on some generic over-the-counter sinus pills to get me through the day until my doctor's appointment. I either had a bad reaction to the pills or took too many, because during algebra class, the chalkboard cracked open and hundreds of little spiders came skittering out.

That was a bad day.

[Washte]

When I was about 10-11 years old a cousin of mine decided to try acid for the first time. There were 4 of us young'uns in the house - him being the oldest at about 15 IIRC. We were sitting around playing Asteroids of summat like that when he lets out a horrendous scream and runs from the bathroom with his pants down and both hands cupping himself..... Dear God what had he done to himself???....

He's crying and hollering that his cock had melted in his hand and he was holding what was left.... Would we help him find what he had lost, or at least check him out to make sure he wasn't just tripping????

Uh huh!?! I didn't hang around to find out what more went on... Just didn't want to go there!!

[jjimm]

During the festival, marijuana is legalised for 3 days. My companions and I order bhang lassi in a restaurant because it's on the menu! My Australian mate says "make 'em extra strong" to the waiter. The waiter replies "oh yes, sir" with what I now know to be a wry smile. Six puke-green drinks come out on a tray. We drink one each. We pay up, leave the restaurant, and walk down the dusty village street.

Little children sit at the doorways of grass huts, barefoot and dirt-covered. Suddenly my Ozzy friend grabs my arm and says "ohhhh mate. Earlier we were on an animal safari... and now... we're on a [b]human safari[/i]!"

The sky goes green. Everyone else seems to be OK, but I digest things faster than other people, and realise what's happening, so I turn to my friends and say "lads, we've got to get back to the hotel. Now. This is going to be really rough."

So we turn round and walk back through the village centre. Lining the streets on either side are dozens of Nepalese villagers, pointing and laughing. We accelerate, and end up in the safety of the hotel courtyard. My friends are starting to look pale. We sit at a table in the hotel garden, and start babbling to each other. I am starting to get The Fear very very badly. An elephant walks past. "Oh my God, I can see a fucking elephant!" I say. My friend replies "yeah, we're in Nepal. It's real." Phew. Another friend says "we've got to hold it together. Let's play cards," so we get the deck out, but every time a card hits the table, it makes a noise like a gunshot. Strangely, we all hear it. My girlfriend is looking really pale, and she weaves off back to the hotel room. I sit, shaking and freaking at the table. Another friend staggers off to his room.

"What can make this stop?" I ask. "Sugar, mate," says my Ozzy mate. "I'll get some Coke then," I say. Coke, from the shop, 20 yards away. I try to work out what kind of money I have, and then try to stand up. Straight over on the floor. Stagger to my feet, and half-fall towards the door. I am too scared to go inside, so I shout through the door "six Cokes" and push all the money into the nearest hand, then I fall back to the table. My head and body are buzzing, and my heart is slamming against the inside of my chest. My mouth is like sandpaper, and my insides are buzzing like I don't know if I'm going to puke or shit or piss or cry or scream. I can't feel my oesophagus or trachea. I close my eyes and spinning lightshows explode behind the lids. The Coke comes out and I try to drink it, but it runs down the side of my mouth. I eventually get some in my mouth and it feels small, like my mouth is a cavern and the Coke a little lake at the bottom. I then realise I haven't seen my girlfriend in hours, so I make it to the hotel room, and find her naked and unconscious on the shower floor, the shower running cold over her body. I pick her up by the shoulders and drag her to the bed. She doesn't come round. I slap her round the face a few times. Eventually she comes out of her reverie. "I've just made love to the Spirit of the Tiger God," she says. I towel her off and force-march her round the room until she's warmed up a bit. She gets dressed and we head back out to the garden.

The other friend who'd excused himself staggers back saying he'd just made himself throw up to get rid of it, but it isn't working. Then he looks at his watch. "Holy shit," he says. "We've only been high for 45 minutes." A whole night to get through. We all go to bed early. I fall into a sleep filled with dreams of pure illogic. About 3am I wake up, and my brain has deconstructed into six steel mandalas, each spinning round each other, each with its own train of thought. The babbling of all the different brains I now have is driving me out of my mind. My heart is really overdoing it now, so the bubble of self-awareness I still have makes me check my pulse: 200bmp. I wake my girlfriend, crying: "I'm dying. I'm sorry, I'm going to die. I just wanted you to know that I love you." "Don't worry," she says, "everything'll be fine". I find out later that in the darkness she checked her own pulse, and found it to be 50bmp, and she thought she was dying too, but didn't want to admit it. I need to get out of the room, so I crawl - because I can no longer walk - into the hotel garden, which is now a cartoon world. Jim Morrison floats past me on a cloud, saying "you've never been this far up before." Thanks, Jim, you cloud-riding cliché. I crawl back to bed, and finally fall into unconsciousness.

The next day I awake, still tripping off my gourd. We have to leave early on a bus to Pokhara. I bumble around, then have to rush to the toilet, where my diaorreah is green and smells of dope. To get to the bus we have to take a jeep across the grasslands, and halfway into the journey it breaks down. I'm buzzing like crazy still, and we sit in the hot sun, with no water, while our driver's mate runs the five miles back to the village to get another jeep. As I stare, dry-mouthed and red-eyed across the arid landscape, I vow never, ever to take marijuana again. It takes another two days before I feel remotely normal again. On the third day I feel like I've had one or two nice mild joints.

Later I discovered that when the waiter served us the drinks, he went and told the villagers "some crazy westerners are drinking one bhang lassi each! This is going to be fun!" When the Nepalese drink bhang lassi, they usually share one glass between ten people.

[angelicate]

Either the first or second time I dropped acid, I did it at school. I had just moved to a new school, and my boyfriend at the time and I dropped around fourth block so that it would have started to hit by the time we got out at 3:30. I guess it was either strong, or maybe it was because I didn't have much experience with it, but it hit right in the middle of english class. The only thing I remember about that class was looking up at the big white markerboard at the front of the room and realizing that a glare from the light and some kind of shadow formed a huge Gene Simmons head, and the more I looked at it, the more it started to move and the funnier it got.
I got out of class, and couldn't find my boyfriend anywhere. I decided that I was just going to walk home, but got stuck out on the sidewalk for about 5 minutes. There was this really interesting purrle of rainwater that had grass clippings floating in it, and they just kept swimming around like they were alive. A friend saw me then, and gave me a ride home. When I got there, I found my boyfriend waiting there, and we went inside to watch TV. We were watching the Flintstones, which I usually hate, but it was the funniest episode that day. Then we ended up watching this exercise show called Sit and be Fit. IIRC, it was for elderly people, or people that couldn't move around very well. Again, one of the funniest things I'd ever seen.
Later that night, my dad came home, and he had a friend come over. They were sitting in the kitchen, and we were in the adjoining room watching TV. I could hear him talking to his friend about my brother, sister and myself. I remember him saying that "Dawn is the cheerleader, and Shawn is the athlete..." at about this time, I look at the TV (we were watching the news) and I notice that all of the people look like they are claymation. Really poorly crafted, blobby, falling apart claymation, but still. And of course, I say that. Loudly. "Oh my god! They look so weird! What is wrong with his face? He looks like claymation!!" and at about that time, I heard my dad in the other rom say "... and Angela. Well, Angela is the weird one." Later that night, we were just sitting back, listening to the Doors, and I was suddenly the smartest person ever. I knew exactly what Jim was trying to say with his music, and there were all kinds of deep, hidden meanings that no one had ever been able to uncover before. I had wonderful ideas on how to make everything better, but I didn't write anything down. I was really pissed the next day. =)


As far as bad trips go, once I had this horrible headache, and when I closed my eyes, I could see the headache in my head. It was set up like a black and grey grid, and every time I felt throbbing in my temples, I'd see this little ball bouncing into the side of my head. Then we turned on the TV and were watching a Tori Amos concert on Lifetime and they kept showing her singing and every time they'd do it, she looked more and more demonic. It was to the point where I was really very scared, but then she did "Me and a Gun" and it was so calm and serene and beautiful that I think I just started crying. Later that afternoon, we were sitting in the living room, and I guess the clouds went over the sun because it got a little darker. When it did that, I looked at my skin, and it looked grey. I breathed in, and smelled what smelled to me like cold air and dirt, and I turned to my boyfriend and said "I smell dead." He asked what I was talking about, and I told him "I smell death. I think I'm dead." I looked down at my skin and it was greyer than before, and now I could see bits of dirt and leaves on it. I was convinced that I was dead, and just hanging out in my living room. He freaked out, and got me off the subject and I forgot about it.

[Moonchild]

Had to revive this post. What a crack-up--read #31, an absolute scream.

Being pretty clean most of my life I never touched a drug until I was 31 and took five ounces of mushrooms (and maybe a few more; they were yummy!) on an empty stomach as my indoctrination.

Ultimately, I found myself sitting on a bed, totally engrossed in the idea of the yin and yang of it all, and those little fishies in that circle just kept moving faster and faster and I had this epiphany that THIS WAS THE END. And I suddenly got a little pissed, realized I had OD'd on drugs and was going to die now and what a waste of a life to die like this. I felt myself "fall through the bed" or something like that. Then I went and threw up, drank some water, had the shakes for a while and then I was back to "normal."

But Butthead's hair color was different after that. And I'm still not sure I didn't pass into a parallel reality.

[Moonchild]

The first (and only) time I smoked marijuana was even more intense. About a year after the mushroom trip.

Brian (again) and our drug-dealing friend Mitch caught me in one of those moods and so I caved and took my first hit. "I heard smoking pot can make you gay," I joked before I took the joint.

So I took the hit. Nothing. Another hit. Nothing. Another. Still nothing. Pretty soon I was inhaling enough to get a nosebleed and holding it for 30-45 seconds. "Some people just aren't affected by it," Brian said.

Nobody told me it takes a couple minutes for the sensatin to take hold.

Then it was like my head was a small cottage that suddenly found a back door that led to a mansion. Just the most unexplainable, weirdest feeling I'd ever encountered. But the decisive moment occurred a few minutes later when I was looking at Brian and he was smiling back at me, really just totally amused at how goofy I was behaving.

But I interpreted it that he was hitting on me (definitely not so, but rationality had long since gone out the window). And in my nervousness I felt something start to tingle. Down there. Just the usual nervousness/fright of course, but I interpreted it as a sexual stimulant -- caused by Brian smiling at me.

Oh my God, I'm gay!!!

This really turned me on my head and I flipped out, ran out of the house and down the street and wished with all my heart that I could unlearn what I just learned, but knew I couldn't. Three hours I walked the streets, just thinking, thinking, thinking. About everything.

Came to the understanding (years later) that I am a microcosm of the Macrocosm; everything that exists, exists somewhere within me--and everyone else. It's just a matter of what brings it forth.

[Kalhoun]

You say this like they are two separate kinds of people.

What a buzz kill.

[Kalhoun]

Exactly what is bhang lassi? I've never heard of it (and I thought I had at least HEARD of everything).

[Saintly Loser]

Here's mine. This is back in 1977. It was the last time I took recreational drugs in my life.

Some friends and I took acid one night. It wasn't the first time for me, and I'd always had fun before, so it didn't seem like a big deal.

I wasn't hallucinating or anything. In fact, I had pretty much decided this acid was a complete waste. So when someone suggested we all get in a car and go for a ride, it seemed like a fine idea.

We're driving aimlessly around Queens. It's a nice night, and we've got all the windows open and we're playing the radio and generally enjoying ourselves. Somewhere in our minds there's a vague hope of meeting some girls.

Then, in a flash, I know that if the car stops, I will die. I panic. I tell my friends not to stop the car, no matter what. They cooperate, god only knows why. So we're crusing through Queens, running red lights, going down one-way streets the wrong way. I start to wonder what's going to happen when we run out of gas. How are we going to fill up the car while we're moving? I'm really trying to figure out the logistics of this. Meanwhile, I'm still screaming at the driver not to stop the car.

Eventually, it passed. But after that, I kinda realized that taking anything that induces that kind of temporary insanity is pretty stupid. So I don't. Haven't so much as smoked a joint in 25 years (although I don't mind a nice whiskey from time to time, I must say).

The absolute peak of stupidity in all this was that the car was stolen (not from us, by us). And we're running red lights and generally asking for trouble. I'm lucky I didn't end up in jail that night. And I would have deserved it, no doubt about that.

[Indygrrl]

"I hate to advocate drugs, alcohol, violence, or insanity to anyone, but they've always worked for me."
Hunter S. Thompson

Freshman year in college I started doing acid every weekend for about a month. On the third or fourth trip, I decided to take two hits, instead of just one.

My friends wanted to go to Steak and Shake before the acid took effect, so I went with them. As I'm sitting there, the black, white, and red decor suddenly became very disturbing to me. I began to get nervous, and told my friends I needed to go back to the dorm. While waiting for the elevator in the dorm room the walls began to melt right in front of me.

We went to their room and I immediately threw up on the floor. They started to freak out because I was freaking out, so they dropped me off at my room and left (thanks assholes). I then went through about a three hour span of throwing up and freaking out. The only thing I could stand to look at was my white blanket, and even it was swirling with colors and bright light. I just kept getting sick.

Finally, my friends came back and we went back to their room and smoked some pot. I felt a lot better, but the whole ordeal really turned me off to acid. I don't much care for drugs you can't control.

[Kalhoun]

My friend and I were tripping in her basement (this was like '71 or '72) and the TV station went off the air. We were watching the static picture and all of a sudden it looked like marching men on melba toast. Fucking hilarious, but where did that come from?

Also, the first time I smoked pot, I got really, really stoned. I got home and found that my mother had painted my room screaming tangerine orange. The brightness and the fumes made for an interesting evening.

[Malthus]

Ah, memories...

It is interesting that you can't describe, or even really remember, the really important mystical aspects of hallucinogens - all that can be remembered is the screwed up parts, where wierd and unpleasant stuff happened.

[meow meow]

It was the neo-hippie early 90’s, the bohemian bourgeois prevailed, and I was in college. A few friends, my roommates, and I split about 1/2 oz. of mushrooms. I ate mine, and others decided to brew theirs as tea. They were very potent, colorful, (bright blue and green), and they tasted particularly bad. (they do grow on cow shit after all. yum!) We must have been smoking a lot of pot, too, as that was a daily occurrence back then. After ingesting the mushrooms, my roommate Chris threw up. So the beginning of my trip was thinking that the mushrooms were poisoned and we were all going to die. Not a good start. I didn’t say anything about it though; I just let it fester inside me. Our ‘babysitters’, two friends who were not tripping, brought some trip toys with them. They covered the TV screen with tin foil that had little holes poked through it. A nice visual effect. They also brought doodle tops, (colorful painting things for kids). At some everyone was sitting on the kitchen floor painting with the doodletops and it occurred to me that I could stop my heart just by thinking about it. I spent the rest of my trip in the bedroom freaking out while my boyfriend at the time was telling me about the real meaning of Star Wars, explaining about the dark side and the light side…This freaked me out even more. In the other room, Chris wasn’t doing so well either. He was talking to god, and Loudly. This scared the hell out of me because Chris doesn’t believe in god, and there he was screaming away, exorcist style. Everyone was in Chris’s room trying to help him, (c’mon, man, Chris needs you. Let's all gather around Chris) and I just couldn’t go in there. I knew there was something in there with him that was going to eat me. Instead I locked myself in the bathroom. I made the mistake of looking at myself in the mirror. EEK! WHO IS THAT???

[jjimm]

Exactly what is bhang lassi? I've never heard of it (and I thought I had at least HEARD of everything).Lassi is an innocuous and delicious yogurt drink found in South Asia and your local Indian restaurant. Bhang (http://dictionary.reference.com/search?q=bhang) is A preparation from the leaves and seed capsules of the cannabis plant, smoked, chewed, eaten, or infused and drunk to obtain mild euphoria.Mild, me arse! Indeed euphoria me arse, it was horrifying.

I am led to believe through stoner hearsay (though ever since that experience, I've been pretty much an ex-stoner) that the animal fats and sugar in the yogurt augment the molecular structure of the cannabis, intensifying its effect. Asking Nepalis afterwards, they estimated that there was about a quarter ounce of bhang in each drink, since a) it was Holi, b) we were paying over the odds, c) our mate said "make 'em extra strong", and d) we were westerners.

[boofy_bloke]

1. Acid. At night time I lay down under the washing line and looked up at the stars. They were 3D! I could see the distance between each star, how far away they were from Earth. It was one of the most beautiful experiences of my life.

2. Anti-depressants. As the drugs built up in my body I passed through a phase where I would have nightmares all night long. They were drawn out of my nonconscious so freaked me out totally. I would wake up shaking, then because I was so tired I'd fall asleep again and have another nightmare, etc. It would be a great torture device because your own mind produces whatever is scariest to you.

[Hugh Jass]

So many strange and interesting memories.

Only time I did acid: Went to see Lethal Weapon 2. Real bad idea. That's where I learned that your setting is very important to the experience. All I really remember is seeing a profile of Mel Gibson, and his face melts away, leaving only his nose. Afterwards, I couldn't speak to my friends. Just couldn't make the words come out.

Mushrooms 1: Visiting a buddy in the mountains of Western Maryland, we ate mushrooms and went on a hike. We came home, and sat on his porch. Something someone said made me start laughing. I really lost it. I couldn't stop laughing. And everything they did or said, made me laugh harder. They noticed and kept saying random things. It got so bad that I was in pain, and the laughter was just a physical reaction. I was no longer amused. Like dry-heaving. Afterwards, they didn't believe me when I said I didn't want to be laughing.

Mushrooms 2: Last Friday. Not really a freak out, but interesting. It snowed in Austin last Friday. It had a small accumulation. I was taking the cab home from a show. The cab driver didn't know how to drive in the snow. We began to skid, first to the right and then left. He turns into the skid. This just makes us spin onto the left shoulder. At this point we are facing on coming traffic. We keep spinning, back across the highway, finally coming to a stop facing traffic on the right shoulder. 1 and a half total spins. When it started, I just started laughing. It was the strangest damn thing. I was never in fear of having an accident or getting hurt. It was like being on a ride at an amusement park. Luckily, it was 1:30 in the morning, and the oncoming cars were quite far from us. Oh, and in the middle of the skid, the drivers cell phone starts ringing, and the ring tone is Chopin's Minute Waltz. I just kept saying "That was so cool." The driver began to laugh with me, and made me promise I wouldn't tell his wife. It must have made the adrenaline rush though, because I couldn't fall asleep until 6:30.

[clayton_e]

This past Christmas break I was staying at my friend's place and one night we were on the 3rd floor, just hanging out and.. uh.. having a good time. There was a small chimney fire due to creosote (sp?) buildup. Thankfully, though, the fire dpt. made it there and put it out quickly.
To make sure that no fire had started cops and firemen went through the place, though somehow they didn't go into the room we were in ten minutes before. yay.

[UselessGit]

Roskilde music festival, can't remember which year...

I bought a LOT of mushrooms in Christiania, and while there I ate a couple of baggies of.. some mushrooms, and a couple of capsules of dried-Hawaian mushrooms. In the train back to the festival, I was hallucinating like some sort of.. hallucinating.. guy, so Idecided it was due time to eat about the same amount of mushrooms again.

The next thing I rememer is at the R.E.M concert. Everything is black, everyone is a paper cut-out and the ground is soft as a sponge. I'm literally hanging on to a friend of mine, trying to talk to him but eevrything is in super slo-mo: "Duuuuuude, doo yooo haaaave aaany cigareeeettes?". I make my way to the stage only for Mr. Stipe to stare at me for minutes on end and he keeps trying to reach out for me. This freaks me out quite a bit so I go back to my tent, where my friend starts singing random songs in his (flawless) Eric Cartman and Smurfs voices. When the rest of the guys show up, I'm huddled in a corner - I had laughed and cried so much that I couldn't even talk and I was all read and swollen from the tears. I go out for a piss, and as I'm standing there by a huge windmill...electricity... thing (we always camp there - easy to find) peeing, I look up at the clear sky, full of stars, to witness a blimp flying over. The whole experience was mind-blowing.

A couple of months later, I have some mushrooms here in Reykjavik. I started hallucinating almost at once, and left the "classsy" bar I was in after I started a conversation with a Michael Owen calendar. We go to a gay-bar, for some reason, where I meet and talk to Albert Einstein and get yelled at by a Mike Tyson poster. After some time, I really, really have to go to the bathroom - so I go to the bathroom. While I'm taking a piss, I realise that at least two guys are staring at me. No biggie - it's a gay bar after all and I'm too interested in the dancing patterns on the wall to care. I pee for what seems to be an eternity, and as I zip up I notice that there is no toilet where I was standing. I had been peeing on the wall. In hindsight, I just hope I was in the bathroom. :D

I like mushrooms - I always get a nice, albeit a very strange trip and I never really freak out because I know that I'm just hallucinating. I'm not touching acid with a stick, too powerful and you can't control it as well as the 'shrooms.

[vibrotronica]

I don't really do acid any more, 'cause I'm old. But I used to like doing it quite a bit. At some point during each trip, I would turn into a werewolf--I would get all hairy, I could feel my teeth and claws growing, and my fact would stretch out like the guy from An American Werewolf in London. It was pretty disturbing the first couple of times it happened, but then I learned that if I just got in a room by myself while it was happening, everything would be OK. Sometimes, I even enjoyed it.

So I dose with a couple of friends, and we end up in the park near our college eating pine needles, and we decide to return to my friend's dorm room for some music. The sun was going down, and it wasn't a good idea to be out there after dark, what with all the space vampires roaming around. As we enter the dorm, we run into the dorm attendant, who is an acquatence of mine we will call Bill. Now Bill is kind of a putz, but he's dating our friend Victoria, so we've kind of been hanging out with him. Bill says hi and makes conversation, but there's something odd about the way he's acting. Finally, he says "Hey man, Victoria broke up with me. Wanna drink with me?" A shape on the table resolves itself into a half-empty bottle of Jack Daniels, and his odd behaviour makes sense. Of course, the answer to his question is "No, we don't want to drink with you, because you don't know we're tripping, you want to talk about what a bitch Victoria was for dumping you, you'll probably start crying, and your face is melting." But formulating a diplomatic way to say that was beyond any of our current language skills. There was a horrible moment of awkward silence, and then I started turning into a werewolf. Bill was staring at me with an awful drunken intensity, and I was afraid I would have to tear out his jugular and eat him because he'd seen me. I started to back away slowly, and he said "What's wrong, man?"

My trip partner Hamlet sensed disaster and interposed himself between us, talking some bullshit while I retreated up the stairs to the room, where I was unable to speak except in grunts for some time. Finally I told Hamlet what had happened, and he said "Oh, don't worry about it. He couldn't tell you were a werewolf."

[Larry Mudd]

I had a cheesy cliched apocalyptic trip one time after doing five hits of gelatin windowpane. (This was the night that I learned that the tolerance that you develop for LSD goes away a lot faster than I had previously imagined-- I was used to during crazy doses about twice a week, but had laid off for a month or so.)

I was listening to this Negativland mix (http://www.negativland.com/reviews/reviews_pastor.html) on a good ol' fashioned cassette tape, and during a call-in "Bible Quiz" section where the question was "True or False: The Bible says 'Be not drunk with wine, wherein is excess, but be filled with the spirit.'" Somehow this came across to me as "Do not drink alcohol, but by all means do as much LSD as you can manage," and I was surprised to find such advice in the canonical scriptures. Just as I was digesting this, Something Bad happened. The tape player noisily ate the tape. I took this as a Bad Sign, and very quickly concluded that the End Times had arrived, which was interesting in that, had anyone asked me earlier in the day, I would have confidently told them that I was a staunch atheist. Slipped my mind, I guess.

Now everything was all-over Christian. The person who had given me the acid was named Chris, and, although he was not related, shared my last name. This obviously meant that I had received True Communion, from Chris T., my brother in Christ. As I tried to relate this to my roommates, I became further agitated by the revelation that everyone I lived with had Biblical names, which of course meant that they were the Biblical figures for whom they were named.

Then the apocalypse started. My digital clock flashed a steady 6:66. Every single-point light source was framed by a golden triangle, which meant that the trinity was making itself visible to me and communicating that now was the time when everything got properly sorted. The pores in my skin, now that I looked closely at them, were not only cruciform, but grew in size until the voids formed by the millions of crosses obliterated my physical body, leaving me conscious of only an vibrating energy that contained my consciousness. If I concentrated on my body image, it manifested itself again. I could turn it on and off at will.

Then came a moment of doubt-- I remembered that I was hallucinating and tried to do an impromptu inventory of everything that had tangible existence. Unfortunately, this involved touching things rather hard. "This poster is real!" *thwap* Poster is torn off the wall. "This VCR is real!" *Smack* Around this time, the only member of the household who was not an acidhead took it upon themselves to call 911 for an ambulance. Someone else had a better idea and simply told me that I really had to stop hitting things, because it was making people uncomfortable. Made sense to me, and I calmed down and started to talk about the end of the world in a more calm, reasoned way. Well, relatively, anyway.

While I was relaying the various signs and portents that had been revealed to me, I was struck by a horrible realization: Language drives time. "In the beginning was the word." "To the last syllable of recorded time." Brainstorm! I could avert the end of the world if I started talking backwards. Reverse language creates reverse time. Luckily, I had a pretty good understanding of how individual phonemes sounded in reverse, and often amused my friends by taking requests for reverse speech, which could be confirmed with the aid of a toy sampler. Why had I taught myself this trivial skill, if not to save the universe from annihilation? I soon realized that just pronouncing the words backwards wasn't enough. I had to reverse my aspiration, too. It would be disastrous to explain this to my friends in forwards speech, of course, because I wasn't sure how much time was left. I explained myself backwards, as best as I could.

This attracted the attention of a houseguest, who came downstairs to see the show. She was a hippy-dippy lady of about 40. I'd never noticed how radiantly beautiful she was. She was glowing, literally. This distracted me and left me dumbstruck. I opened my arms and stepped towards her to give her a hug. She reacted with alarm and back away quickly, saying, "No, no!"

Of course, then I realized that she knew exactly what was going on, which was that it wasn't just language that drove time, but sex, as well. Well, heterosexual sex, anyway, since the book says the game started with Adam and Eve. It all came to me in a flash, because her name was Gardener.. Armed with this knowledge, and knowing that desperate times called for desperate measures, I dropped my pants and urged my best friend: "Fuck me in the ass! Err, No! One! Sah Honeypuff! Sah Honeypuff!"

That's when the paramedics showed up at the door, although it seemed like I'd been hearing the sirens arriving for hours. They sounded like angels' trumpets.

The paramedics looked dubiously over the shoulders of my roomates', at the lunatic in his underwear repeating "Sah honeypuff! Sah honeypuff!" while appearing to be in some sort of respiratory distress (talking while inhaling, and all,) as a couple of people endeavoured to get his pants back on, but accepted assurances that everything was under control, really, and eventually they went away.

Then my friend Chris showed up, bless him, since he'd received an urgent call to swing by to convince me that he wasn't Jesus after all. By that time I'd calmed down enough to realize that I was freaking out and that things would carry on just fine the next day, anyway. So Chris wanted to gently counsel me on my "coming out." He'd just come out within the past year. He seemed disappointed when I explained that my desperate calls for anal penetration really were nothing more than a misguided attempt to reverse the flow of time.

I have no idea how I made it through the next day at work. I didn't realize you could get an achey hangover from acid. Oh, brother, can you ever.

Anyway, of the several hundred LSD trips that I took in my salad days, that was the only one that I consider a bad experience.

Heh- vibrotronica, drunk people can be a trip. I remember one time one of my roomate's boozy work friends showed up unannounced, with a friend in tow, one night when three of us were sitting around with Uncle Sydney. The roommate that he actually knew was down with a cold and not open to company, so instead of taking a hint and hitting the pavement, they came and sat in my already crowded room. Picture five people in a room with one chair, a stool, and a bed. Lucky for me I had an ancient stereo which doubled as furniture. Of course, we weren't about to let on that we were tripping, because there's nothing worse than "funny" drunk guys who know you're on acid. Two things I remember well-- Dave losing a freshly-rolled spliff in my recliner, and attempting to find it by holding this huge chair upside down over his head and shaking it, inches away from three people tweaked out of their gourds. Big recliner. Small room. His friend talking about the time he saw Hendrix open for the Monkees. "The Monkees rocked, man!" True quote. Good times.

Of course, other heads can be just as perplexing. I'm thinking of the time a bunch of us went to see Earth Girls Are Easy. Exiting the theatre: Chris: That wasn't just a movie, that was, like, a way of life.

[various others opine that it was good fun, but hardly revolutionary.]

Chris: No, all the experimental stuff they through in there! Like the part where they made it look like the film jammed, and the still frame burned up, looking all trippy, until there was nothing there but a white screen, and the house lights came up? That was awesome! It was like, so self-referential and cool. Reality burns up, man. Awesome!

Everyone else: Chris, the film jammed.

Chris: No, you just didn't get it because you were all too high.:D

[jjimm]

UselessGit, that is one of the funniest things I've read for a very long time. :D

[Malthus]

Well, I used to do hallucinogens all the time - now I do mushrooms every couple of years. Age and all has caught up to me. :eek:

Well, the strangest freak out I ever experienced was the time, many years ago, that a group of my friends decided to go camping on acid. This was not as good an idea as it seemed, as we neglected to take any "babysitters" [i.e. people not on acid] with us. Even more foolishly, we took the acid before setting up camp.

Anyway, we were camped in a ravine near, but outside, the city, beside a shallow but very beautiful river. There was a bus that ran near the place, so we didn't need to take a car.

We dropped late in the day, and after sitting around a while in that trembling moment before it hit, we all suddenly realized that we had not set up camp.

Sudden panic, everyone running around on various tasks ... I was setting up the tent, which was no easy feat, as I started to peak ... the lines were like spiderwebs, and I a rather unhappy spider in the middle.

My friend, a big stoic (fortunately!) fellow, was collecting firewood. Unknown to me, or any of us, he was using an axe with a loose handle, which turned in his hand ... the axe went into the side of his foot.

Well, we all gathered around. He was bleeding. A lot. I felt myself start to get panicky - I was peaking on two rather potent blotters, and the blood was squirting out - I was having trouble evaluating whether it was really, really serious or not. Eventually, I decided that it was. But what to do?

He was (or seemed) quite calm. He said, "you brought a first-aid kit?" - indeed, I had. I wandered over, got lost for a bit, then found it and wandered back.

Everyone was down by the river now ... there was a trail of blood leading the way; in fact, there was blood everywhere - the axe was lying in a pool of it. He was washing the wound in the river.

Since no-one was volunteering to be doctor, I did it - I wrapped the wound in a roll of gauze, and taped over it with surgical tape. Amazingly, this held, and didn't cut off circulation to his toes - problem solved! But, it was getting dark, and there was no way at all to get home.

I remember looking down at my hands - covered with human blood - and looking up at the blood-red sunset and thinking, "the night has just begun". It wasn't exactly a *good* thought.

Problem was that we had very little firewood, and the thought of sitting in the dark was unbearable. We gathered what we could (no-one touched the axe) and sat around staring into the flames. I made a trip in the dark with another friend and a pitifully inadequate flashlight to look for wood, which ended when my friend blundered through a spiderweb and started to freak out. "I'm covered with spiders! Get them off!". I assured him it was just the acid and calmed him down, but when I looked at his back, it was indeed covered with many ugly spiders. I brushed them off, without telling him. That ended the foray for firewood.

Well, we were all sitting around, and somehow we were all in the same wavelength - I don't believe in telepathy, it is more like "everyone thinking the same thing at the same time". So much so, that we were completing each other's sentances when we talked.

And mostly we thought about the fire. The fire was live, and love, and hope. The fire COULD NOT BE ALLOWED TO GO OUT, no matter what. It just couldn't. But neither could any of us leave the fire to get firewood ... we were reduced to burning toilet paper and drink crystals (surprisingly effective!).

We listened to the voices in the brook - and then we heard voices in the woods. Coming towards us. And then lights. Moving towards us. Cops? Well, there was nothing to be done about it. We sat awating our fate.

However, who showed up was not cops, but three guys we very vaguely knew from high school - Heavy Metal types, the kind into Satanic rock. They had, it appeared, heard that there was a "ravine party" and arrived with their box of beer to party it up.

What they saw must have been more that a little disturbing. Eight guys silently sitting around a dying fire, smeared with blood - blood all over the ground - an axe lying in a pool of blood.

Nor was it obvious where the blood came from (my injured friend had pulled a pair of heavy socks over his feet, which hid the bandage).

Eight heads swivelled around to face them - from eight mouths the identical message greeted them, in tones of doom: "Get Firewood!".

Well, get firewood they did. They ran around like beavers and soon assembled a big pile. None of us moved, or indeed was capable of moving ... to me at least it seemed inevitable, right and just that they should have arrived out of the blue as our wood ran out. Then, as quickly as they had came, they left.

Well, we survived that night, and the next day were able to return. My injured friend got some stitches at the hospital, and was fine. All was over.

Exept that the next week at school, people were avoiding us and looking at us funny - turned out the Metalheads, after fleeing in panic (we had no idea of that - they were just there, and then gone), had told everyone they knew that we had "killed some guy with an axe in the ravine in a Satanic ritual - they ordered us around and threatened to kill us too - we only escaped by a miracle!". :D