“There is no bad trip, your experience is your experience. All is welcome,” my guide said.
I laid back down and experienced more darkness, discomfort, and terror. I slid off the couch and ended up on the floor. While lying there, my body contorted and became unimaginable aliens, demons, grotesque beings. There were no colors, only black and shades of black, darkness and despair.
Then came a moment when I saw myself “creating” all these entities. I was standing in an alleyway and realized that the demons were just a manifestation of my mind. It was merely a glimpse of insight, and for whatever reason continued to torture myself with these horrendous, demonic images.
As I traveled through the pits of hell, a nurse performed EKGs, drew blood, and checked my blood pressure and my temperature. The amazing thing was these events became part of the journey. My experience was that I was on the sacrificial altar of humanity. My blood was a sacred elixir that was being taken by blood angels to the sacred chamber of lab analysis.
My blood and body were serving mankind. In the midst of hell, I felt honored to be sacrificed for the sake of humanity. And I still do.
At one point I found myself trapped inside a black, rectangular box. Entities, creatures, and “things” were scurrying about the walls. A terrible stench mixed with these visuals.
I was curled up in this box, and at this point one of the guides asked me, “Where are you?” I explained the situation. “See if you can find a light and flash it around—see what else is in there,” she said. I found a headlight and put it on. With the light on I saw more nasty critters scurrying about.
Then I became one of “them”—a disgusting, pus-filled, cockroach-like creature that was expanding into the box. Then the box dissolved. I was back from the demonic, alien world, but still experiencing hell. The next hell realm was not mine, but felt like my father and my brother’s hell.
“I think I’m now taking one for the team,” I said to my guides. This hell realm was now extending back through ages. It felt as if I was processing the “shit” of my ancestors. I was now about four hours into the experience.
At this point I had to use the bathroom. My bladder felt ready to burst. With guidance from Dan, I shuffled off to the bathroom. The bright lights and shininess felt strangely comforting. There was a photo of a lotus flower above the toilet. I stared at the lotus and watched it morph into female deities.
Now I was just “tripping.” The walls were moving and the floor was melting. This felt good. I was on more familiar terrain, but I really needed to pee. The study required me to urinate into what is known as a “hat”—basically a large cup that resides in the bowl of the toilet. I sat down and began to pee. I stared at the floor as it shifted about and I felt a very strange sensation.
I looked down into the hat, and I saw that my scrotum was now floating in a pool of urine. I had peed so much that I filled the hat to the top and now my balls were happily floating about.
“Dan! Dan! Can you come here? I need help!” I called. I heard Dan coming to the door.
“What? What?” he said.
“Can you come in here? I need help,” I cried.
Dan entered the bathroom with a confused look on his face. I immediately dropped the bomb.
“I peed so much my balls are now floating in my urine and I don’t know what to do.”
I started to laugh. Dan started to laugh. “Well, I don’t know what to do either,” he said.
We tag-teamed a paper towel cupping of my balls as I stood up. It is true love and dedication when your guide holds your urine soaked scrotum ever so gently in a wad of paper towels.
It felt so good to laugh. I really thought I was out of the woods.
I shuffled back out and lay down on the couch. I curled up in the fetal position. I felt wiped out. I was still very much “in it,” but I could feel the intensity tapering off. I remember thinking “I made it and I’m never, ever doing this again.”
As I was lying there, a new wave came on.
This one was equally unpleasant as the earlier ones. I felt my brain “split.” I was in the midst of a psychotic break, and I was witnessing this in slow motion as reality slipped away.
I thought, “I’m going crazy. They will have to get a wheelchair to get me to the psych ward. I fucked up the study. I’m the first person to lose their mind during a study. Dan and Karen will be so pissed. I may have ruined the entire FDA approval process for psilocybin. My kids! I’ll never see my kids again in a normal state. I am crazy. I am getting crazier. Am I crazy? Yes…”
This went on for an hour as I sunk more and more into a delusional state of psychosis. Finally, I knew I had to sit up and break the bad news to Dan and Karen. And boy, were they going to be pissed!
I sat up and slowly said, “I’m not doing good. I’m having a psychotic break.”
Dan looked at me and exclaimed as he was bouncing in his chair, “That is awesome! Great work Steve! First journey of the dark soul and now you have gone crazy! Total break-down of the OS! I am so happy for you!” Then Karen said, “Good work, Steve. Good work!”
I breathed and let all this in and thought to myself, “This is ‘mind.’ My mind! I created this!” I started to smile. I could see how my mind had manifested “crazy.” I asked for my drum that I had brought for the session. Boom! Boom! Boom! Boom! I smiled and laughed. I got it. I got what I had created.
At the eight hour mark I was dismissed from Room 1010 and escorted back to my hospital room where I would spend the night. I ordered some dinner—a lovely chili-chicken stir fry. My food arrived, and I sat down and this thought came in: “After the agony, dinner.”
To be back in my body and eating a meal felt so normal and comforting.
But I still hate George Winston.
Continue reading about Dose #2 here.