This trip report was written by an avid weed smoker I know. He’ll probably write some more stuff for us in the future, so post what you think of this trip report down below.
For years people have used psychedelic drugs to get in touch with their spiritual side, even to try to meet God. This has become less prevalent in our modern world as people have become less religious, less spiritual and more inclined to get ‘fucked up.’ Unfortunately for these people, strong psychedelics can carry them into places they never thought existed, and they can meet God even if they weren’t intending to, or ready for it. This is the story of how I spiritually met God, died, learned the meaning of life and achieved nirvana, all while putting me and my friends’ lives in real mortal danger.
It was a perfectly planned day. Our plan was to travel to the lake, trip there during the sunset, travel back to my friend’s apartment, and complete our trips there. We had one person staying sober, two only smoking weed, and two acid-trippers. At sometime around 3 pm, my friend, who we’ll call Steve, and I dropped our 3 hits and 2 1/2 hits, respectively. I usually take my hits with a decent time between each, to allow for a slower come up. This time, however, I took all 2.5 at once (to avoid missing out on anything at the lake), and the come up was very anxious for me.
We started on the 45 minute journey out to the lake at about 30 minutes into the trip. Tom was driving, with me in the passenger seat, as I had the directions. Unfortunately, I had left the directions at the apartment, a folly we didn’t realize till about 15 minutes into the drive. Fortunately, I pretty much remembered the way, and after a short drive in the wrong direction, we were back on track. Since things were going so well, we decided to stop by an HEB (Texas grocery store), to grab a few drinks along the way. This turned out to be huge mistake number one.
It was a Friday afternoon, so naturally the store was packed with rich lake house owners buying their food for the week. This meant a place packed with middle aged parents and young children, or to the acid-tripper, nearly the last person you want to see. I was walking with Tom, trying to find some snacks when I spotted the epitome of comedy, a package of Rainbow Goldfish. I burst out laughing at the snack–food, all while housewives and their preschoolers looked on, confused. Tom was embarrassed and nervous so I offered to go out to the car. Disregarding any sense of courtesy in walking through a busy store, I made a bee–line for the exit.
I met up with my fellow tripper, Steve, and we both went out to my car, talking about how frightening and stressful it was inside the HEB. We hopped back in the car and headed off toward the lake. This wound up being huge mistake number two. We got to the lake just fine, and found a nice, secluded spot by a small drop off into the water. It was the most beautiful place in the world.
There was a big oak tree on the edge of the small drop into the water, with a bench under the shade. The water was a deep shade of blue, and the leaves on the tree and grass around the area was green and flourishing. It was the type of place people paid millions of dollars to live on, just on the other side. I had packed a guitar, colored pencils, paper, and my computer to keep me entertained but I soon realized I would need nothing but the sheer beauty of nature to occupy my mind.
We walked around for a while, enjoying the park, and all was well. Tom and Joe, who were the weed smokers, went off to smoke their couple joints, while the rest of us sat around joking about Africa, the awesomeness of the park and other such matters. When they got back, huge mistake number three was made. Tom suggested we go on a hike up the hill. It may seem clichéd, but this was probably the worst mistake of my life.
Upon the hike up the hill we encountered such fun things as:
- a guy shooting a BB gun
- an empty heroin bottle
- a barbed wire fence
Now, these alone may have been tolerable, but put together it was too much for my poor tripping brain to handle. On top of my already spinning head, we walked back to the car to see a black Crown Victoria with black police rims and a spotlight, parked right behind my car.
Steve went to retrieve the guitar and other tripping toys, while my sober friend, Nick, and I, got into the car. This was a poor decision on Nick’s part as all he heard for the next 15 minutes was “Is it legal to be here?” This crippling thought loop was halted by Nick’s happy go lucky attitude that rubbed off on me a bit, only to return in full force a few seconds later. I said that horrible sentence, with some slight variations, so many times, in fact, that my friends were compelled to make a note to me (which turned out to be a hilarious video on Nick’s camera) that said, “Dear [Lotus], it is legal to be here. It is public. -Tom, the note PS-No, really, it’s legal to be in a public park.” Yes, the note’s name was Tom. The seriousness with which I approached that note, however, showed that to me it was no joke. For the next few minutes everyone had grown very tired of my conversation, so they sat me down in front of the water.
Note in hand, I created quite an interesting reality for myself. As any tripper undoubtedly knows, visuals and states of mind are nearly impossible to describe. I will try the best I can. Looking at the sunset, all the colors were inverted. The sun was a beautiful shade of deep purple, the clouds were a heavenly gray, the sky was going through all colors of the rainbow at any given time, and the water was metallic looking and made up completely of patterns. I could hear my friends talking, as they were only a few feet away, and imagined them conversing with a police officer. After 10 minutes of them arguing with the cop I decided I should put an end to it and get everyone to leave.
“Come on guys let’s just go!” I shouted, walking to the car. I opened the passenger door and hopped inside. This was the final huge mistake of the night. Nick, as the sober person, hopped into the driver’s seat and everyone else started packing things into the trunk. He tried to talk me down from the acid but by this point I had gone way too far.
We took off down the road out of the park, and were cruising along quite nicely, when I started trying to grab at the steering wheel. Nick, realizing what I was trying to do, quickly swatted my hand away. After a few times of this I noticed my radar detector. The lettering on it looked completely alien to me, and it scared me. My reaction to this, of course, was to grab the thing and slam it into the side of my car. My next idea was to stop the car, so I could get away from everything.
I reached over, at about 45 mph, mind you, and slammed the car into park. Fortunately, my car has the handy feature that puts it into neutral instead of park when it knows you’re moving, so my brand new transmission that I had just installed was not destroyed. After we had come to a stop, I got out of the car and collapsed into the ditch on the side of the road.
I was put back in the car in the middle of the back seat, between Tom and Joe, where I was to spend the rest of the drive home. As soon as I was in the back seat I could feel death coming near. Then God began talking to me. It wasn’t so much that I was hearing a voice in my head, it was more of just an understanding that I was speaking with the creator of the universe, and I knew what it wanted to say. If I could describe God visually, I would say he is an infinite pattern of everything in the known and unknown universe.
It started slow, with a rising feeling of anxiety, desperation and despair. I knew that if I didn’t find out what life meant, I wouldn’t be able to stop the cycle. At first I tried going against it; naming things I was familiar with and that made me happy. This worked terribly, however, and accomplished nothing. During these cycles I knew that this feeling is what it’s like to die. My mind was racing, trying to figure out what the trip wanted me to do and I finally realized it wanted me to accept death.
I worked very hard for two or three cycles, finally realizing my fate. Unfortunately, just when I thought the cycles were done, a new one started. I was desperate, each cycle lasted the same amount of time, and I couldn’t stand to go through any more. I started trying to say things to make it stop the cycles. This didn’t appease God, however, and it just made the cycles stronger.
Finally, I realized what it had wanted me to all along. Regardless of any previously conceived notion of Christianity, I now knew that when I died I would revert back to birth, completely forgetting everything I knew now, and I would just repeat the process all over again. With this realization, all my mental anxiety disappeared, and I truly accepted death.
I looked forward out of the car’s windshield, and saw in front of me a curve in the road, with a cliff at the end. I watched Nick accelerate to 100 miles per hour, with no intention of slowing for the curve. As the car left the ground my vision went completely white and I remember very little after this.
In Tom’s apartment, I sat for awhile completely silent, asking randomly for my hat and hoodie, presumably to see if they were left behind or not. After the trip, I was in a sort of daze for the rest of the night. I spent a couple hours with Tom, making a trip to McDonald’s and talking to him for a while, but my thoughts were completely on the trip. As a matter of fact, for at least a few weeks after I was very…strange. For example, I completely lost my temper and screamed at Tom later on for not wanting to pick up a pizza.
What did I learn from this experience? I wish I could say I learned not to trip at the lake, but two months later I was tripping at a different lake (successfully). I wish I could give some advice to future trippers to avoid this experience, but all in all I’m glad it happened. It was the most intense experience of my life, and I know that I’ll never forget it. I wish it could have happened in the safety of someone’s house, but it couldn’t have. What started it was the unfamiliar, frightening setting of the lake.
I suppose the best advice I could possibly give to a tripper is, accept what is happening (though that itself may be impossible when you don’t even know what is happening) and you’ll probably be a better psychonaut for it in the end.