Knock knock.
6:15 PM, the boy (not boy, but will always be to me) knocks on my bedroom door. I'm watching the tube with the wife.
Shrooms?
Sure, in the freezer, have fun.
I was expecting it, he was planning a solo trip, hanging out, listening to music, playing a bit of video games. I wasn't joining.
6:45 PM I come out, check in.
How much did you do, how did you do it?
8 grams, blender, mixed with milk, covered the taste perfectly.
WHAT THE FUCK!?!?! (internally, no reaction, do NOT trigger a panic).
8 grams? You weigh what, 225? Hmmmm. Ok
Internally reviewing the lit on "heroic" doses. Oh fuck, he's crossed it big time. Maybe. He's been the leader "responsible" adult tripper of his group of peers. Maybe his natural tolerance is higher than that, he's never gone very far, he's looking to push it. We'll see.
So, how do you feel (20 minutes in)?
Him: Wow. Hitting pretty hard. But hitting good. Surprised, I thought it takes longer.
Me: Naw, perfectly dried (high wind, no heat) and then flash frozen at -50F for a year means that as long as you don't heat it in tea you don't lose the initial psilocin rush.
The next 20 minutes were spent in fractured discussions as he went further and further.
So, you gotta tell me. You want me here, you want me to shutup, you want me on hand, you want me gone?
He waves his hand at me. He done with me. Communication is too annoying.
Oh, I know that feeling. This is a unique internal experience, and outsider CANNOT understand, and their mere existence in the peripheral is distracting/annoying.
Ok, I'll check in with you in an hour.
I leave him to himself, and hang with the wife for a bit. 30 minutes later I knock on his door.
I LIED, sorry for interrupting, but here's ELP Brain Salad Surgury, you MUST listen to it.
He looks up in a daze. He can communicate, but not do anything to help with the music. He has no CD player hooked up (various game boxes don't count at this point, merely the act of figuring the plugs to the speakers is too much, and I'm not touching his gaming rigs).
Yeah, I do CDs, remember?
So anyway, the next 20 minutes is spent ripping to OGG and emailing them to him, only to find out there is NO WAY he's capable of pulling them off his phone.
Fuck.
Fine. Here's an OLD DVD player that will also do CDs, but not remote, and no NEXT TRACK button, so either we listen to complete CDs or nothing at all.
Stereo thrown together downstairs, ELP blasting, him dancing (a rare thing, only happens when tripping), smiles all around.
COOL.
Ok, I'm going upstairs, I'll check in with you in a bit.
30 minutes later I walk by his room. He's on his bed, the door is open (not the norm)?
Your door is open, are you ok, do you want it open?
NO.
No what?
Not ok.
Hmmm. I sit.
Him: (very difficult speaking) Time. Distortion. It's around the corner. Everything is around the corner.
Me: umm, ok, well, what's up?
Him: (attempt at communication becoming more and more difficult, a response takes about 2 minutes, and when it finally comes, it is a very quiet scared sounding one): Make it stop.
Me: (gentle smile, shakes my head): Sorry, you know I can't do that. It will pass.
Him: (look of resignation combined with serious fear) um. Ok.
Me: Too much input?
Him: Shakes head yes.
Me: Ok, how about I turn your light off and you lie down to some gentle music?
Him: Shakes head yes.
I move to his light, switch it off, and plunge the room into total darkenss. Not what I wanted. I switch it back on quickly. He's looking at me in a new way.
Him: (with authority) Sit down.
Me: Plop down in a chair and wait.
him: (gets up, mild disjointed walking, starts bobbing his head to the music in the next room, smiles, and walks to the next room, enjoying the music).
Me: Phew. So what's up?
Him: turns around, gasps, and says: nononononononononononononononononono. It's gone, I'll never get it again, nonononononononononono.
ruhroh. In for a long evening.
What's gone?
(ok, 20 minutes of very difficult trippy conversation later, to get to this point).
#1 - He experienced the inneffable, and he wants it back. Fine, that's the point of tripping, at least for some, it'll be back, remember your 1st when you asked what that feeling was and I told you love. Well, I was wrong, it was "god's love", a feeling which CANNOT be described, only experienced, you felt it before and you'll get it back.
#2 - He broke through, ripped the veil, and was gone for a while. and that while could have been a LONG time inside. I've NEVER done that on anything other than DMT. He has been avoiding DMT, was NOT interested in it, but has done salvia. Whatever he found on the other side was heaven. His version of it. When he came back it was a mindblowing rebirth, and he is FUCKING PISSED. He wants his heaven back, he wants THAT ONE, no others, and he's coming to the realization it is a unique experience, and he will NEVER have it back.
#3 - Yup, you will NEVER have that particular version of heaven again. It is yours, based on set and setting and dose, and it is truly gone. Sorry. (I'm brutal that way, but if I lied to him, he'd KNOW it). But the next time you will find your next version of it, as long as you are not searching for THAT one. Becuase YOU generated it, and you'll generate the next one, but only if you don't try too hard. How about you relax a bit? No? C'mon, relax, enjoy the music, kick back, you'll start flowing, see where it goes.
As you can tell, we are not a regious bunch.
Nope, not happening, way too agitated. He starts pacing. He thought loops about paradise lost, and he'll never see it again, I understand 1 word out of 10, this could get bad.
He spend the next hour trying to rip the veil by force of effort, exactly the worse thing you can do, bar none, for frustration. It CANNOT be done that way, yet this is the only thing he will do. This makes him more and more pissed.
He paces, saying forcefully: OH C'MON, again and again. He mumbles, he cries, he does a stuttered laugh, he weeps, he says OH C'MON LOUDLY, and then he PUNCHES the wall.
He outweighs me buy 75 pounds, could probably snap me like a twig if he gets riled up. And he's riled up.
I sit there, giving an occasional non-patronizing comment, and try to redirect to some music.
Yes, Perpetual Change is on. Perfect. As the words match his experience, and then point out it's all an illusion, and it'll all change again, he becomes a bit more accepting. But not much.
He needs a hug. The boy does not hug. But he needs one now. Fine, happy to be there. He thanks be for being there, he then pulls back, remembers what he lost, and then is pissed again.
I follow when he leaves the room. I can't leave him alone, and I sure as fuck am not letting him wander the house, the kitchen has SHARP knives and the pool is deep. He's got 3 rooms to wander, and I try to keep the door shut to the next set of rooms. He does not accept any limitation on his movement or his ability to punch walls. I try to guide him away from anything glass. A couple of glass cabinets are filled with stuff in these rooms, and he could kill himself in a blink if he punches through one and slices his wrist.
This goes on from 8:30 to midnight. Occasional head smashing (not that hard, but hard enough to scare me) against the floor as well, I get a pillow, shove it under him, and keep him as safe as I can.
Put on some Simon and Garfunkle. Sound of Silence is VERY accurate up until "narrow of cobblestone".
Hello darkness, my old friend
I've come to talk with you again
Because a vision softly creeping
Left its seeds while I was sleeping
And the vision that was planted in my brain
Still remains
Within the sound of silence
In restless dreams I walked alone
Narrow streets of cobblestone
Many times over the hours he gasps, unseeing (or farseeing) eyes wide in panic, and in a sad yet maybe accepting voice he says: I can come back, it's ok, I can come back.
About 11:45 he says: It's circular logic so of course it's circular logic so it's circular logic so of course it's circular logic.
He's doing an internal analysis of the reasonability of what he's thinking. Tripping teaches you to think about thinking. Some people can't handle it. It's one of my goals to make people think about thinking. Good.
I'm crashing hard at midnight, but I can't Gotta stay up.
At about 12:30 he says: I need some real food. He says it in his normal voice. I let him feed himself alone.
He comes back and tells me to go to bed.
The trip is over, he's down. Just like that, SNAP!
Me: So, will you be tripping again?
Him: (looking at me like I'm an idiot): Yeah
Me: Will you be doing 8 grams again?
Him: OH Yeah, I got exactly what I was looking for. I might even do more next time.
Me: Um, ok, NOT ALONE, right? Good night.
I wonder what he'll remember when he wakes up?
6:15 PM, the boy (not boy, but will always be to me) knocks on my bedroom door. I'm watching the tube with the wife.
Shrooms?
Sure, in the freezer, have fun.
I was expecting it, he was planning a solo trip, hanging out, listening to music, playing a bit of video games. I wasn't joining.
6:45 PM I come out, check in.
How much did you do, how did you do it?
8 grams, blender, mixed with milk, covered the taste perfectly.
WHAT THE FUCK!?!?! (internally, no reaction, do NOT trigger a panic).
8 grams? You weigh what, 225? Hmmmm. Ok
Internally reviewing the lit on "heroic" doses. Oh fuck, he's crossed it big time. Maybe. He's been the leader "responsible" adult tripper of his group of peers. Maybe his natural tolerance is higher than that, he's never gone very far, he's looking to push it. We'll see.
So, how do you feel (20 minutes in)?
Him: Wow. Hitting pretty hard. But hitting good. Surprised, I thought it takes longer.
Me: Naw, perfectly dried (high wind, no heat) and then flash frozen at -50F for a year means that as long as you don't heat it in tea you don't lose the initial psilocin rush.
The next 20 minutes were spent in fractured discussions as he went further and further.
So, you gotta tell me. You want me here, you want me to shutup, you want me on hand, you want me gone?
He waves his hand at me. He done with me. Communication is too annoying.
Oh, I know that feeling. This is a unique internal experience, and outsider CANNOT understand, and their mere existence in the peripheral is distracting/annoying.
Ok, I'll check in with you in an hour.
I leave him to himself, and hang with the wife for a bit. 30 minutes later I knock on his door.
I LIED, sorry for interrupting, but here's ELP Brain Salad Surgury, you MUST listen to it.
He looks up in a daze. He can communicate, but not do anything to help with the music. He has no CD player hooked up (various game boxes don't count at this point, merely the act of figuring the plugs to the speakers is too much, and I'm not touching his gaming rigs).
Yeah, I do CDs, remember?
So anyway, the next 20 minutes is spent ripping to OGG and emailing them to him, only to find out there is NO WAY he's capable of pulling them off his phone.
Fuck.
Fine. Here's an OLD DVD player that will also do CDs, but not remote, and no NEXT TRACK button, so either we listen to complete CDs or nothing at all.
Stereo thrown together downstairs, ELP blasting, him dancing (a rare thing, only happens when tripping), smiles all around.
COOL.
Ok, I'm going upstairs, I'll check in with you in a bit.
30 minutes later I walk by his room. He's on his bed, the door is open (not the norm)?
Your door is open, are you ok, do you want it open?
NO.
No what?
Not ok.
Hmmm. I sit.
Him: (very difficult speaking) Time. Distortion. It's around the corner. Everything is around the corner.
Me: umm, ok, well, what's up?
Him: (attempt at communication becoming more and more difficult, a response takes about 2 minutes, and when it finally comes, it is a very quiet scared sounding one): Make it stop.
Me: (gentle smile, shakes my head): Sorry, you know I can't do that. It will pass.
Him: (look of resignation combined with serious fear) um. Ok.
Me: Too much input?
Him: Shakes head yes.
Me: Ok, how about I turn your light off and you lie down to some gentle music?
Him: Shakes head yes.
I move to his light, switch it off, and plunge the room into total darkenss. Not what I wanted. I switch it back on quickly. He's looking at me in a new way.
Him: (with authority) Sit down.
Me: Plop down in a chair and wait.
him: (gets up, mild disjointed walking, starts bobbing his head to the music in the next room, smiles, and walks to the next room, enjoying the music).
Me: Phew. So what's up?
Him: turns around, gasps, and says: nononononononononononononononononono. It's gone, I'll never get it again, nonononononononononono.
ruhroh. In for a long evening.
What's gone?
(ok, 20 minutes of very difficult trippy conversation later, to get to this point).
#1 - He experienced the inneffable, and he wants it back. Fine, that's the point of tripping, at least for some, it'll be back, remember your 1st when you asked what that feeling was and I told you love. Well, I was wrong, it was "god's love", a feeling which CANNOT be described, only experienced, you felt it before and you'll get it back.
#2 - He broke through, ripped the veil, and was gone for a while. and that while could have been a LONG time inside. I've NEVER done that on anything other than DMT. He has been avoiding DMT, was NOT interested in it, but has done salvia. Whatever he found on the other side was heaven. His version of it. When he came back it was a mindblowing rebirth, and he is FUCKING PISSED. He wants his heaven back, he wants THAT ONE, no others, and he's coming to the realization it is a unique experience, and he will NEVER have it back.
#3 - Yup, you will NEVER have that particular version of heaven again. It is yours, based on set and setting and dose, and it is truly gone. Sorry. (I'm brutal that way, but if I lied to him, he'd KNOW it). But the next time you will find your next version of it, as long as you are not searching for THAT one. Becuase YOU generated it, and you'll generate the next one, but only if you don't try too hard. How about you relax a bit? No? C'mon, relax, enjoy the music, kick back, you'll start flowing, see where it goes.
As you can tell, we are not a regious bunch.
Nope, not happening, way too agitated. He starts pacing. He thought loops about paradise lost, and he'll never see it again, I understand 1 word out of 10, this could get bad.
He spend the next hour trying to rip the veil by force of effort, exactly the worse thing you can do, bar none, for frustration. It CANNOT be done that way, yet this is the only thing he will do. This makes him more and more pissed.
He paces, saying forcefully: OH C'MON, again and again. He mumbles, he cries, he does a stuttered laugh, he weeps, he says OH C'MON LOUDLY, and then he PUNCHES the wall.
He outweighs me buy 75 pounds, could probably snap me like a twig if he gets riled up. And he's riled up.
I sit there, giving an occasional non-patronizing comment, and try to redirect to some music.
Yes, Perpetual Change is on. Perfect. As the words match his experience, and then point out it's all an illusion, and it'll all change again, he becomes a bit more accepting. But not much.
He needs a hug. The boy does not hug. But he needs one now. Fine, happy to be there. He thanks be for being there, he then pulls back, remembers what he lost, and then is pissed again.
I follow when he leaves the room. I can't leave him alone, and I sure as fuck am not letting him wander the house, the kitchen has SHARP knives and the pool is deep. He's got 3 rooms to wander, and I try to keep the door shut to the next set of rooms. He does not accept any limitation on his movement or his ability to punch walls. I try to guide him away from anything glass. A couple of glass cabinets are filled with stuff in these rooms, and he could kill himself in a blink if he punches through one and slices his wrist.
This goes on from 8:30 to midnight. Occasional head smashing (not that hard, but hard enough to scare me) against the floor as well, I get a pillow, shove it under him, and keep him as safe as I can.
Put on some Simon and Garfunkle. Sound of Silence is VERY accurate up until "narrow of cobblestone".
Hello darkness, my old friend
I've come to talk with you again
Because a vision softly creeping
Left its seeds while I was sleeping
And the vision that was planted in my brain
Still remains
Within the sound of silence
In restless dreams I walked alone
Narrow streets of cobblestone
Many times over the hours he gasps, unseeing (or farseeing) eyes wide in panic, and in a sad yet maybe accepting voice he says: I can come back, it's ok, I can come back.
About 11:45 he says: It's circular logic so of course it's circular logic so it's circular logic so of course it's circular logic.
He's doing an internal analysis of the reasonability of what he's thinking. Tripping teaches you to think about thinking. Some people can't handle it. It's one of my goals to make people think about thinking. Good.
I'm crashing hard at midnight, but I can't Gotta stay up.
At about 12:30 he says: I need some real food. He says it in his normal voice. I let him feed himself alone.
He comes back and tells me to go to bed.
The trip is over, he's down. Just like that, SNAP!
Me: So, will you be tripping again?
Him: (looking at me like I'm an idiot): Yeah
Me: Will you be doing 8 grams again?
Him: OH Yeah, I got exactly what I was looking for. I might even do more next time.
Me: Um, ok, NOT ALONE, right? Good night.
I wonder what he'll remember when he wakes up?
