We were somewhere around Barstow on the edge of the desert when the drugs began to take hold. I remember saying something like "I feel a bit lightheaded; maybe you should drive...." And suddenly there was a terrible roar all around us and the sky was full of what looked like huge bats, all swooping and screeching and diving around the car, which was going about a hundred miles an hour with the top down to Las Vegas. And a voice was screaming "Holy Jesus! What are these goddamn animals?"

Then it was quiet again. My attorney had taken his shirt off and was pouring beer on his chest, to facilitate the tanning process. "What the hell are you yelling about?" he muttered, staring up at the sun with his eyes closed and covered with wraparound Spanish sunglasses. "Never mind," I said. "It's your turn to drive." I hit the brakes and aimed the Great Red Shark toward the shoulder of the highway. No point mentioning those bats, I thought. The poor bastard will see them soon enough...

I rode a 7 mile long snake down to a lake.

The snake was old, and his skin was cold.

On two occasions, both of them were after a day of pretty much no eating.

First One

I go to my friends house, her boyfriends a dealer so there's always weed around. They weren't smoking yet so I had a beer and enjoyed it. Then they made a blunt and passed it around. I had a good bit but then we all decided to go to one of the other guys house. I get in my friends car but just after I stood up, I couldn't tell any sense of direction. Everything was moving to me. I ignored it however and she started the car up. We drive through the south end of down town and by the time we got to the church were you turn to pass the other church to where the guy lived, everything started to fall apart. My vision was cloudy, and it was like my own soul was in pain. I actually thought I was dead, I was contemplating in my head if I fucking smoked Meth. I felt absolutely, 100% sick. At that time, all I wanted was light, hoping that will bring me back to reality, but this was at nighttime, and the car lights weren't gonna provide much. My friend is freaking out with me, and she's in the drivers seat. Both of us probably thought I was going to die. We did eventually get to the house however, and I managed to walk out the car, but I was freaking horrible. As soon as we got in and they were playing Call of Duty, they could tell I was gone, I was way past stoned. "YOU did that to him?" said the amazed roommate of my friend's brother (and my friend too, this guys the closest thing I had to a brother). The light didn't do it for me, so I asked if I could sleep in the bed. After like 20 minutes, I threw up, and then started feeling better actually. My friend dropped me home and I lived it.

Second Time

I was in Film School and I was building a set for 35, and I wanted to chill out and smoke that day,but my roommate at the time didn't allow smoking, so I had to go to this guy who was a classmate and essentially an entrepreneur of drugs and such. He frequently had LSD and coke and shit. He never pushed it on me though, as long as I kept it a secret, he knew I don't do hard drugs. He was a cool dude, got me film work and stuff. Well anyway, we get some weed from his connection and I get my pipe and smoke it out on the porch. It was like sunset and the sky was blue. But then, the clouds were suddenly melting, and they were turning red. It was nothing more than the sun setting, but I seriously started tripping out. After a few more minutes, I got up, opened the door, and said "Oh, man, I'm feeling REALLY bad!" and I knew I was experiencing the same thing from just one month ago. Most of it was me sitting on the couch shitting myself. Why does this happen? Do I inhale too much one time? I asked my friend who's just sitting on the other side of the couch, trying to watch tv, and barely paying attention to me going "Please man, tell me! Did I smoke LSD?" for him to answer "You can't smoke LSD." in a tone as in, man, why do I need to tell you that! And so then time goes on, and I got a pizza coming because I knew eating was going to make me better. I still wanted to know what happened, and I ask my friend, a little less stupidly if I smoked Crack. His response was "Nah, dude, if you smoked Crack, you'd be REALLY hyper right now." this time in a way to make me really believe him. And yeah, I get my pizza, blow the fact that I was really high away to the pizza guy, and for my friend to say he never saw anyone throw up from smoking before to the pizza guy to explain what happened... oh yeah, I threw up indeed. I didn't think I was going to though. My friend was like "Dude, you gotta throw up?" and indeed, I did. I rushed to the bathroom and threw up. I got out, and all I wanted to do was just sleep. I didn't even feel like walking back to the couch and was lying on the floor. My friend was "Want to go sleep on my bed?" and I said no, I didn't want to get up. And he was like, "Come on dude, go up and lie on my bed. I did get up and it felt comfortable. 30 Mins later, I was feeling better, and drove safely back home.

So yeah... I was pretty lightweight. This was like 2 years ago by now. I pretty much smoke a little every day.

>>80

>pot
>hallucinating

yeah shit was laced or something

Through a long, complicated series of events, I was staying in a monastary in Calcutta with a few friends.

One of the guys came down with fucking epic diarrhoea. Nearly got sent home. He got over it. And to celebrate, he decided to go get some weed. He thought it would be a good idea to go alone. I tagged along to keep him from getting murdered.

After a few misfires, he found a guy, they agreed on a price and he led us to where he stored it. Down a dead end alley with five guys blocking the exit.

"Oh no no no, don't worry sir, they're just there in case you don't want to pay! Don't worry, I'll just get your stuff from my apartment."

Cue the most awkward five minutes of my life as we stand there, eyeing up the heavies and waiting for the weed.

The guy comes out, all apologies. He doesn't have the kind of weed they agreed on, but he does have something special, it's right here in his hand, prerolled and everything, just waiting to be pocketed. But it's so high quality he has to charge an extra 200 rupees. At the time, 55 ruppees was equal to the dollar, so it wouldn't exactly break the bank.

Fucker refused to pay. The heavies advance on us, taking out knives and screwdrivers. I offer to pay. My friend refuses to let me. He then grabs one of the joints and lights it right there in front of them

"Listen, fellas, we all know what's going to happen next and I would much rather be off my tits when it happens."

The Indians are just looking at him, stunned. After a few seconds, he sits down, and puts his head in his hands. He looked up at me, with red eyes and white face, and said: "This shit is strong, I'm going to be sick." Then he pulled a funny face and said "And I'm probably going to shit myself."

He then starts rocking back and forth, babbling about how he's going to be sick and begins asking if he can come back tomorrow to be murdered, he'll be back tomorrow no problem just please let him go this time.

The boys look at him, then grab him and haul ass down the alley. I sprint after them and see them hailing a cab. They shove him in the backseat and throw a wad of bills at the driver, and say take these two wherever they want to go. The dealer gives me this small smile as I get into the cab and says "Tell your friend he should be more careful. There are some dangerous people on these streets."

>>117
aww, shit. you just reminded me of something: I was in highschool. 9th or 10th grade. kind of a dweeb, and just moved to a new place, new school, etc. rode the bus to and from school.

Guy that lives down the street from me asks if i want to buy (big dude, corn-fed, redneck, prematurely bearded...), and me (105 pounds, quiet, 2 hairs on my nuts) im like aight. he dug around in his sock while i checked my pocket to see how much cash i had on me. a fiver and some change. he nods, and comes up with this cigarette pack cellophane wad, with a hint of green in it. LIKE THE SIZE OF MY FUCKING FINGERNAIL. now, i came from a border town in TX, where that shit was enough for a joint, and so it was worth a buck or two. this kid is like "alright, i guess you can have it for five, but dont expect it again". I laugh at him.

being the simple giant he is, he's annoyed. "nah, put that shit away dude, stop fucking around". "i pulled it out, and your buying it". "no, your putting it back in your sock, cuz im not a fucking idiot" (is this guy fucking with me? "look here dude, [he snatches the 5 from me] take your fucking pot" [he throws the wad of grass in my seat, falls in the crack because it so small.

I stand up, avoiding the reactive approach for an active one, and not trying to look like a bitch about the coming *disagreement* and bark in his face "give me that goddamn bill and go fuck yourself".

Bubba doesnt like this.

His glandular disability gets the best of him, and he quickly kicks me in the gut, i fly back into the seat behind me, and he jumps on top. punch punch punch. im genuinely getting my ass whipped, and despite my best efforts, not returning the favor. he gets bored after about 15-20 good hits and stops. face is pulp, ribs are sore, and im feeling like a retard. he jumps off, panting heavily, sits back in his seat. i sit up, wipe my lip. shit hurts real bad. i look at him and he laughs one of those "hah. bitch" laughs. i laugh back at him, trying not to admit total defeat. we both just sit there for a minute, glaring at eachother. he looks forwards, ignoring me. i look forwards. about 30 seconds goes by.

i grab my backpack by that top strap and swing it over the top of my head and into the top of his, which gives me just enough time to climb his big ass as he begins to stand up. (for a bit of scale, i was about 5'3", he about 6'2"). just as he's about pile drive me into the floor, the bus driver (finally using her rear view mirror) sees the shit. she slams on the brakes, he loses balance, and somehow my knee ends up close enough to his head to smack the bottom of his chin.

hes out cold for like 2 minutes while the bus driver tries to clear the situation up, stopped on the side of the highway.

a month later, his cracked jaw is somewhat healed, and the purple is gone form my ribs. i answer a knock on the door, and its him with a big ol bag of sticky shit "wanna help me out with this shit?".

his name is actually Bubba, and we've been pretty good friends for about 10 years now.

>>117

your friend sounds like someone that should get out of the scene, seriously. but i suppose being fucking crazy has its perks

I did mushrooms for the first time a few months ago. While the afterglow was one of the best experiences I've ever had, the high itself was a fucking terrible time for me.

Near a little beach town a 5-hour drive from where I live there are several cattle grazing pastures where you can pick them fresh. Me and two friends (both of whom had already done mushrooms before) went to spend a 3-day holiday there.

The morning of the second day, we went mushroom hunting. We found plenty, brought them back to the hotel, made tea, and then took it with us to a secluded place by the beach.

Now, what my asshole friends didn't see fit to tell me until the next day was, we had a fuckload of caps in that tea. Easily enough for 5, maybe even 6 people. And I had barely any experience with hallucinogens at all.

So we found a spot on some dunes by the beach, settled down, and drank the tea. I sat watching the sea, and waited for it to take effect.

At first I just laughed like crazy, and it seemed someone had suddenly plugged the world into widescreen and full-HD mode, and then maxed out the contrast.

I then decided to take a walk with one of them. That's when it really hit.

It was like my entire fucking world was made of stained glass, reflected infinitely back and forth between opposing mirrors. The beach was an infinite matemathical plane, on which we had been all along, on which we had always been, and would always be, eternally. I kept seeing repeating patterns on the sand, on the bubbles on the water, everywhere, and I simply couldn't ignore them. Everything shone. Everything was absurdly defined, *too* defined, too *real*, if that even makes any sense. My brain felt like a pinball machine, all lights flashing out all over the place.

All this barrage of overwhelming sensory input was already making me quite on edge. My friend kept saying stuff, trying to reassure me, which I could barely understand; I just had a vague notion of a presence beside me. Then at some point I looked at him, an it scared the fuck out of me. I must have flinched or something, because then he looked at me and said, "What?".

What had happened was, I looked at him, and thought, "Fuck, isn't that me over there?"

I told him that, and then he said "Well, sure you'd want to be me. It's because my words make sense.", which made me think of the way a psychiatrist would talk to someone having a complete mental breakdown.

And at this point, I was pretty sure that was exactly my case.

>>199

Cont'd.

We went back to our little camp. By now I just wanted this to stop, fucking stop, for the love of God. Everything was still so real it almost hurt to look at. I kept seeing patterns everywhere, and they were like hypnotizing, I could barely tear my eyes away from them. At one point, I couldn't remember who I was. Next, I had no idea who those people with me were.

I tried to sleep it off, but there was a veritable fucking shadow puppet theater behind my eyelids.

I kept trying to make sense of things, but words meant nothing. The concepts behind words meant nothing. "Nothing" was also just a word, and a concept, absolutely meaningless.

I kept pestering my friends, asking them if this would pass, if things would go back to normal; and then the thought hit me - maybe there had never been "normal" to begin with. Maybe I imagined all that. Maybe I was just fucking crazy (the evidence was right there, after all) and had simply imagined I had at some point had a life, friends, a family, a home, anything at all other than just that spot on the beach and those two guys with me.

Needless to say, that was the lowest point of it all.

All of this went on for two, three hours. It was beginning to get late, and one of my friends decided he wanted to go back to our hotel. I had wanted to do just that all the while, so I went with him. Now, on our way back we had to pass through the town; and as we did, I was absolutely positive everyone was staring at us. That we looked like a couple of junkies, and they despised us and would have kicked us the fuck out of town just as soon as they had a chance.

We finally got to our room, cracked open a few beers (that was the best beer I have ever tasted in my life), and slowly I could feel some sense of reality and individuality solidifying around me.

An hour later we were already laughing our asses off about the whole thing, and feeling like a million bucks. We ate what few remained (my friend said it would just prolong that awesome feeling, and so it did), went out for dinner, and that was that.

To be honest, the whole thing was quite frustrating for me, because all I had ever heard from people's experiences with mushrooms was some pretty cool, mellow, really spiritual experiences. What I got for my trouble was, I believe, a way too close for comfort brush with clinical insanity.

>>200

I remember those kinds of experiences, those where you're wondering if the "normal" will ever come back.

>>80

Only in these times I smoked weed and was thinking I took some other drug.

>>200
>>199

ahaha.

shrooms will certainly do that to you. sometimes you'll fly on the back of eagles with your friends and slay a volcano god with water magic, and sometimes you'll completely dissolve your ego like it was nothing but cheap antacid.

trust your wetware my friend. your mind will find always find a way back.

This guy I know wants me to try shrooms when we go to Canada.

I dunno, I'd much rather try them first on an island.

I mean, I'm concerned I'll trip out and walk on the street or something and get hit.

The strong synthetic marijuana when it first came out was a bad trip every time. Yet I'd keep going back to it.

>>247

Just get a sitter. Bam, problem solved.

>>249

This other guys gonna need a sitter as well. I was gonna sit him, but I see the guy is gonna have to sit both of us.

Took way too much diphenydramine, ended up sleepy and irritable for 72 hours. Didn't trip or even feel loose, I just felt miserable and really sad the whole time. Now I won't even touch the stuff to use it for its intended purpose.

>>269

man, that has to suck. at least with a bad trip, it's exciting, in a "oh god i'm holding my own entrails" kind of way.

>>270
I only wish that I'd had some sort of trip, even a bad one. Judging by all the experience reports that I'd read online, it seems like this is something only retarded teenagers use, so all the stories about hallucinations are probably all made-up and they're just trying to seem edgy taking the only drug they can afford to buy over the counter. Shame on me for taking their word for it.

>>275

yeah the whole "get drylled" thing is pretty bullshit.

even drinking cough syrup is more sensible (but that's a stupid idea too)

Ive taken 700mgs of DPH (benadryll) before there are halucinations terrible halucinations
its more of a drug of intrist instead of something you would do for fun
its essentially a lighter form of datura if you take it id start 500mgs for a first time dose
expect spiders
>>270 you probably took enough to get the mindset and the shity body load but not the halucinations those start at around 500mgs (depending on weight) its a shitty drug