DOSE:	5 g	oral	Mushrooms
		smoked	Cannabis

BODY WEIGHT:

140 lb

I’ve been reflecting on my psychedelic experiences quite often lately, as I’ve been considering trying them again, and this particular time has been very impactful on me. I figured I would record all that I remember while being faithful to memory. Almost all of my trips were fantastic, but this one unfortunately left a pretty serious warning mark on me.

My best friend K and I, from a previous trip report, planned to take our largest dose of shrooms ever (5g) at my family’s house one Saturday morning. We were both still in high school at the time, and I knew my father would be out on a cross-country bike ride most of the day, so we had the place to ourselves to really explore the trip. My dad was my single parent, and was pretty cool with me experimenting with substances, as long as I was being safe and not neglecting my responsibilities, etc. I don’t think he knew we were doing shrooms though.

So, early on in the morning (9 or 10am), K and I both drop the shrooms. We always just ate them and washed them down with water, I didn’t really mind the taste. We had these super fat stems from a friend who gave us a discount, so we were pretty excited.

Unusually for us, they took quite a long time to hit—almost an hour and a half or two hours to start actually feeling any psychedelic effects. We were sitting in my living room, a cozy area with a big couch and a ton of music equipment, and I was spinning some records. While we were on the come-up, we started feeling the first signs—that giddiness, the warmth in the head, and the overall feeling that your immediate world is beginning to shift around and your thoughts are starting to go through new channels. The music I was playing (corny black metal of course) began to loop around my head and fill the room, and I could start to feel the music on my skin about an hour and a half after consuming the mushrooms. I was feeling a bit overwhelmed, because it was the largest dose I’d ever had, but still comfortable. K and I ended up moving to the ground within that first hour or two and just laying around, kind of moving to the music and letting our bodies carry us where they wanted to go. We were making a bunch of silly jokes. I briefly sat up and played my acoustic guitar for a bit—I was strumming a super chill Windhand song that was very sentimental to me, and we were both immediately overwhelmed by how the sound felt. Neither one of us said a word as I plucked the strings and softly sang a bit, but we both locked eyes and it was clear we were feeling the exact same thing. It felt like I was physically in a soundtrack, and the sound waves all around me were enveloping me in their warmth. The guitar notes were bending and wavering, each single string reverberating around my ears and entire body as I played it. I must have only played for 2 or 3 minutes, but it felt like a nice little eternity. Then we made it back to the couch, where we sat and began talking about the music. Still, there was something that felt a little “off” about K, like he was very deep in thought or was keeping something from me.

Suddenly, in the same upbeat and friendly demeanor he’d been using before, K informed me that he thought he just “pissed himself completely all over my couch.” It was almost eerie, because his cheery tone of voice was still the same, but it was such a weird thing to say out of nowhere. I hadn’t been looking at his body much or paying attention to what he looked like, but when I did look over, he was indeed covered head to toe in fluid, either sweat, or piss, or whatever. I immediately became pretty stressed, not crossing the threshold into a bad trip, but definitely worried. He asked if we could just go lay down in my room and play some calmer music, to which I immediately agreed. His voice became nervous, and he was stuttering over some of his words. He really was sweating so much in the face. This was about two hours after consuming the shrooms, and I was just now beginning to experience some visuals. I took him back to my room and we laid down on my old green comforter. The white leaf designs on it were rippling, more like waves on an ocean than anything else. I remember looking at my bed and being amazed at how different it looked—the various shades of green and shadows of the wrinkles all permeated my mind in that moment. I got K a glass of water and played some piano mazurkas I liked. K was still drenched in sweat, or piss, or whatever—I wasn’t trying to really inspect. He was breathing very hard. I just wanted to take care of him because he was my best friend. I could tell he wasn’t having a great time, and so I just tried being as calm as possible.

Immediately, when the 4th movement came on, as the piano swelled into louder arpeggios, K absolutely began to lose it. And by “it,” I mean all the contents of his stomach, all over my bed and room and floor. He was vomiting so much all at once—dark red goopy shit, too—that I got so scared I felt like my world had completely changed. I was terrified, it looked like K was vomiting blood and innards and shit like that. He started coughing and spitting, and I asked him what he had to eat that day, and he said, “toast and jam”, so I momentarily thought he had just had berry jam, and was throwing that up. He also started crying, I think. While he was still losing his lunch, I carried him to my bathroom, where he started hyperventilating and sweating and spitting up even more all over the old white tiles. His eyes started to bug out and he was groaning like he was in immense pain. I was so, so scared. At this point, my bathroom was changing colors, my sink was spinning, my shower curtain was breathing, and I was beginning to have a very intense trip, but there was just this instinctual feeling very deep within me that made me take care of him first and didn’t really allow me to do much else. He started taking off his clothing and running to get the shower on, so I tried helping him out. I remember his skin feeling like it was absolutely boiling to the touch, and he was so sweaty that his whole body was dripping wet. I helped him undress and get into the shower. I don’t think he had ever even been shirtless around me, because I immediately saw a ton of scars—it made me very sad to see that my best friend had inflicted that on himself. He tried to turn away and not show them to me. I’m still not sure exactly how I felt about that, other than compassion and friendly love.

The scariest part happened next; he kept tripping over his feet and couldn’t get into the shower properly, and started screaming, “ I just want to be sober! I just want to be sober!” He said that over and over and over again, and started moaning and sobbing, and I just felt absolutely crushed. That was the worst part of the experience all day. I knew that there was nothing I could do to stop the effects of the shrooms, and moreover, that we had at least 6 or 7 hours of this to go. But, I did immediately realize that I could do everything in my power to try and lessen his discomfort. I helped him get to the shower and wash the vomit out of his hair, and I ran to get a change of clothes for him. While I was in my room getting him some new clothes, the peak begin to hit me—I was standing straight in front of my little closet, with my jeans and shirts facing me in the half-light. I looked at the clothes, and it felt like they were looking back; like they belonged to someone else, and they were rippling with such intensity that I was beginning to question my own reality. It was the first time that day that I felt like my mind could unravel too far and I would forget who I was. When I grabbed the clothes, it felt like I was shoving my hands into an unknown abyss, and I wasn’t sure what I’d pull out!

When I got back to the bathroom, he was beginning to dry off, and I felt one of the most intense feelings I’d ever experienced in my life, definitely the most intense I have ever felt while on psychedelics. Building on how I felt earlier—that taking care of K was very important—I felt this extremely overwhelming, almost maternal instinct well up all at once and spread throughout every fiber of my body and mind. Absolutely nothing else mattered in the world besides making sure my best friend was okay. My own trip could wait, my experiences could wait, even my visuals felt like they were being “put on hold” —I could worry about feeling good on my trip only when I was sure that K was stable. Not a single other thing mattered to me in that moment in the slightest. It felt like my body and mind were on autopilot; I was not really thinking or feeling conscious thoughts, I was just letting myself be guided by this maternal instinct as I helped my friend calm down. He was shivering and rocking back and forth on the ground, wet from the shower and holding the towel. It felt like he was very embarrassed about what happened, but didn’t know what to say. I cleaned up all the vomit as quickly as I could, and offered him my spare clothes. I gave him my huge, comfy Joe Satriani shirt and mom jeans—the ensemble looked a bit silly, because he was a skinnier guy and didn’t quite fit into my clothes. But he looked a lot more comfortable, clean, and most importantly, vomit-free.

Neither of us said much when he got out. He just got dressed, stood up, and we both just existed for a little moment there. I think we shared a hug. We didn’t say anything, because nothing needed to be said—we both understood how horrible his experience had just been, and how I had tried my best to make him feel better.

A bit later, he told me he was “feeling somewhat better” and he definitely looked more stable. This is about 3 or 4 hours after we took the mushrooms. I was absolutely peaking; I was having an extremely enjoyable time (other than what had just happened, obviously). My house was breathing, K’s face was forming spirals and patterns, I could feel our souls coexisting peacefully and it felt like our friendship was the most beautiful thing in the world. One of us suggested we go outside, I can’t remember who. This ended up being the best physical feeling I have ever experienced.

It was a beautiful spring day in Texas; the sun lay overhead, not too hot, but warm enough to illuminate our skin and keep us utterly content. We went out to my backyard in our fresh clothes, our insides all (mostly) settled, and laid down on my old deck. We were staring up at the blue cloudless sky and feeling a little bit of a breeze. I cannot adequately describe how blissful the sun’s warmth and light felt on my body. It was truly unlike anything else I had ever experienced. K was still distraught and shaken, but was visibly calmer and did not seem to be at risk of peeing or throwing up or whatever anymore. He also looked like he was enjoying the sensation of the sun. I don’t think we said much when we were outside, but we must have laid there for a good hour or two, just relishing how beautiful and regenerative the sun’s rays felt that day. At that point, we shared a bowl or two of indica, and continued to experience the warmth.

After, we went back inside, hung out with my dad for a bit (he got back when we were outside, we just pretended to be very stoned), and rode out the comedown by just sitting and talking. It ended up being okay, we just took the rest of the trip very easy and did some meditation/played some calming music. The first few hours were some of the most terrifying of my entire life.

That was the last time I have tried a psychedelic substance, though I may do it again someday.

Exp Year: 2020	ExpID: 117183
Gender: Female
Age at time of experience: 17
Published: Oct 20, 2024	Views: 15
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