A Night on Shrooms
An hour or more into the trip, I stood in the doorway of the bathroom in a friend's appartment that I had never been to. The mushrooms we had eaten--each of us consuming an eighth--were crisp and crunchy, I remember that much, and by this time we had all started to feel the trip devour us. And as I stood in the doorway of that tiny bathroom I felt completely disoriented, instictively inspecting the mirror with the curiosity of what might be seen.
The urban legends of shrooming: never trip alone, and don't look in the mirror; it might result in a bad trip. The mirror never shows the truth, in fact, what is seen in the mirror is even more disoriented than anything else in a trip. Well, I never live by urban legends and I always look in the mirror; curiosity kills with the wonder of what might be seen...
I looked in the mirror and the first thing I noticed were my eyes, dilated beyond dilated, a tiny ring of iris surrounding my hollow, black pupils. The grin of a demon; my smile was wide and my teeth were long. I laughed.
After I inspected my appearance, I checked out the rest of the room through the mirror, as if it sucked me in and absorbed my mind, the mirror consumed me... Through the mirror, the wall behind me began closing in, and everything was green, an olive-green. The wall behind me was pushing closer and closer to me, making my heart jump, but I knew this wasn't real so I didn't allow myself to panic.
The tiled floor I stood on wasn't flat and I didn't know how I had ballanced on it. It curved upward beneath my feet. Again, I laughed.
At this point, I decided to join the rest of the group in the kitchen. Chuck was sitting in the corner between the wall and the table, speechless and staring at the money he had lying out in front of him. I asked him why he was staring at the money but he didn't know. Blank, empty, unable to comprehend.
Nick sat to the left of me, with chuch on my right, and sat with a smile on his face. He looked pale to me, and his teeth seemed unusually long, I told him this and he smiled wider. He said he really wasn't seeing anything yet, but he was having an intense body high.
We had smoked a blunt earlier, with dashes of left-over shake from our bags of shrooms. It was Ivan's idea to smoke the shrooms; the controversy in this is that supposedly the heat of fire depletes the chemicals of the mushrooms, making it pointless, waisteful. But I've smoked a cap before and it had enhanced the colors of my vision--making the green greener than normal. It could be a placebo effect, I don't know, but I experienced one hell of a trip. Or maybe it was the weed that got me, slowing my body down as it usually does... I hate weed.
I had been geeking for straight over an hour at the things my bad had been feeling, and the weird and quick delusions I had been seeing: colors, light beams, sparkles and designs in the window blinds that shouldn't have been there. And all of a sudden came an intrusion of comfort as three people appeared out of no where, invading our space.
These people were real, I didn't trip that hard, but where they came from I had no idea. They were loud and obnoxious, wigger with their fake ibonics, I couldn't stand them. Staring in surprise and irritation, one of them asked if I wanted to be left alone, I lied. I was lost, confused, with too many people around me I didn't know what to make of anything.
They all looked like midgets to me... Short and obnoxious with high pitched voices and tiny brains--maybe that's subconsciously what they were? Midgets. It all makes sense now. With the mind on shrooms, everything evolves around the subconscious. Deep down you really know what is and isn't, what's really going on, it's all in the subconscious, but on the surface you have no idea.
My nose started running but I asked if it was bleeding, I put a thought in my mind and visualized it. There were tiny hints of blood on my hands...this isn't real.
All the confusion made my head hurt, so I lied my head on the table, suddenly realizing it was glass. I stared at our shoes. Everyone's shoes described their personalities; mine were worn with years. Nick's were dirty but new. Mike's, well Mike's were the kind you saw wiggers wear.
The confusion got too loud and Ivan decided it was a good time to go to the hotel room. The four of us jumped to our feet at the idea.
It could've been the pot, the shrooms, or the sudden movement of springting across the street to the hotel, but I thought I had died. We got to the hotel but everybody suddenly dashed around the side of it, this was way too much movement for me and I almost fainted. Heat overpowered my body, dizziness, everything got blurry, then, I saw the ground before me.
I couldn't think.
I couldn't move.
And all I heard was Ivan telling me that we couldn't stop here, repetitively.
I forced myself up, but moving this time was pushing the limit. Everyone stopped behind the hotel and by now I was oblivious to what was going on. I had no idea where I was or what was going on, all I knew was that I wanted to go somewhere and lie down... I felt like I was dying.
I've been close to feeling death before, the times I've overdosed, got out of control, this, this was right up there with them.
Finally, I let it all out of my system. There goes my chicken noodle soup, and all the stomach acid that came with it.
Ivan, Chuck and Mike came to the side of the building with the car, I was barely conscious enough to have known that they had left, so Nick and I hopped in the car, and everything was lost.
My conscious was gone, leaving my subconscious to overcome, and what was left was the deepest of thought. Thinking so deep that I couldn't keep track of my thoughts, or stick to one subject of thought, I can hardly remember my thoughts now. But I was thinking so hard, about how I thought I had died, about what everyone else could possibly be thinking about right now as we all sat silently in the car, driving back to Kempsville from the Ocean Front. I thought about what might've been going on in Nick's mind. I thought about whether everybody thought less of me now because of how weak I am for stopping and puking as they stood around impatiently not knowing what to do. I thought about all this as I stared intently at the stars, eyes glued to Orion, stars are signs of hope... And I still thought, did I die?
The subconscious knows everything. A mind on shrooms, or, my mind on shrooms, thinks only with its subconscious. What's on the surface--consciousness, sanity, reality--has all been lost and all that's left now is the subconscious: your inner-most self, your innermost thought. This is real, this is reality. What one considers 'the norm,' normal, everyday life and everyday thought...is now fake, false, that's insanity, that definitely isn't reality, it's programmed. It's a program to make this life seem meaningful. Only when you break away from this and all your everyday thoughts, only when you find reality, only when you trip, can you find your subconscious, and the subconscious knows everything.
This is why they say that drugs like these, these psychedelics, pry open the third eye; the gateway to the psych. Because the subconscious knows everything, and the mind on psychedelics is the subconscious, the third eye is opened quite clearly now. The third eye, subconscious psych, the all knowing, the omniscient! If only we could realize this, realize that we already know! we already know what's to come! What will be! And why! We already know, yet we really don't know. The subconscious knows, the surface-conscious has no idea...
Pry open your third eye and think about this, and you will know.
It's amazing how I was able to remember these thoughts, and only these out of all the other thoughts that went through my head that night...
And I knew it all. As I stared at Orien, I predicted the events of the rest of the night--not to the very detail, yet I still knew. I felt it.
I'll finish the rest of the story if anyone's still interested...