Friday, March 25, 2016

The Electric Koolaid Magic Mushroom Test

(This will be part of the diary book)

Last Saturday, I let myself be kidnapped by my buddy Katie for a night of intellectual debauchery with her and her wife, Lisa.  What follows is an approximate account of the events that occurred, and my emotional state during that time.

We were already nicely stoned when we ate the magic mushrooms.  To allow for an easy transition, we watched some YouTube videos on their huge flatscreen TV.  I was amazed at how good the videos looked on it, half the time I had to remind myself that we were watching YouTube and not actual television.  Eventually we settled on a movie...they picked "Home" due to its colorful nature.  Roughly halfway through the movie, I started recognizing the changes.

Katie and Lisa had closed all the curtains in the apartment and turned off all the lights.  The TV became the only living entity in the place.  After the movie was over, we returned to YouTube to watch two seriously trippy videos.  Click the links below to watch them:

The first one should have been much longer, if not the entire length of the album.  I was in pure bliss.  It is what I imagine being dead is like, if you chose to remain on earth as a spirit.  The second one, however...eventually proved to be too much for me.

I felt myself becoming lost.  I had no clue what was going on.  I felt myself starting to pull out of my body.  Lisa was dancing in the dark behind us.  This was a night I had no control over...I was in a new place I'd never been before, albeit with friends that I trust, and I was trying something that I did not know what to expect from the results.  I got on Facebook and messaged the few people that could help me through what was happening.  My brain did an okay enough job keeping me from flying off the deep end, but I needed some support and I was afraid to speak.  I didn't want to worry Katie or Lisa.

We barely spoke once the videos reached their momentums.  The only words I could say were, "I hate you guys so much."  Of course, it was meant with love.

I was barely keeping myself on the ground.  After we ended the second video, we put on the first two episodes of Futurama.  Those were a punch to the stomach.  Partway through, I had to step out onto the balcony for a cigarette.  By this time, Katie had gone to bed.

The sensations from watching Futurama did not stop when I went outside.  If anything, it made it worse.  I stared out onto the highway at the neverending string of traffic, headlights flashing back and forth, everyone in such a desensitized hurry to get somewhere.  I kept thinking that the future foretold in 1999 was already here.

During the drive into Albany earlier that day, I scanned the faces of every driver on the road that I could see to try and find the one face that would destroy me to see again.  So many years and only recently have I been able to say with certainty that I have learned to live without someone, to feel my own person again, without feeling that there was a piece of me left embedded in him.  I was in fear the whole time, like my psyche suddenly turned to glass.  Once again, just a few hours later, I was feeling this way again.  Again, I felt my inner self trying to separate from my body, to float over the edge and into the air.  I fought against it.

There was a lone house sitting a short distance away from the apartment complex.  I could see inside their giant front window...a figure standing there, not moving.  The black figure seemed to be staring at me.  I stared back, and became aware of voices in my head.  I knew they weren't real, but they frightened me.  I was being told to jump.  I had flashes in my head of the story of my death hitting the news.

"Sara Kay, 35, of Toledo, OR was found in the early hours of the morning by tenants of an apartment complex in Albany.  She had apparently flung herself off the balcony of a 3rd story apartment, where she was going to stay the night with friends.  There appear to be no signs of foul play."

I couldn't take it anymore.  I backed away from the voices and went back inside.  They were silenced when I closed and locked the sliding door.

Going into my room, shutting the door to my own cell for the night.  I climbed up on top of that huge slab of heaven that was their roommate's bed...memory foam mattress and pillow, with a faux fur blanket and clean white sheets.  I had packed my phone charger, but was pleasantly surprised to see that their roommate had left theirs and it matched mine.  I brought out my notebook and pen, eager to write under the influence, but sadly I never did.  Instead I took to Facebook.

Fingers so close to typing...
Is this natural?
Is it real?
Or have I completely gone to living inside my head? 

Don't know if I am going through a breakdown or a breakthrough lol 

I was glued to my phone.  I stared at it with the truth of everything hitting me in the face.  Friends would message me back, either getting a kick out of my situation or not really giving the help I needed, eventually disappearing altogether.  Rick was nowhere to be found...called, texted and messaged him, nothing.  He had gone to bed early.  Then there was someone else I wanted to talk to, who was online, only I felt another great fear.  I did not want to intrude, or alienate him further from me once I revealed what influence I was under.  But the online icon was there, and it stayed there the entire time taunting me, but I did not write him.  I kept flashing back to memories of messaging my ex in times of need, how he was rarely around when I needed him...and now Rick was doing the same thing.  I was yelling silently at myself, "Why can't you see it?  He's right fucking there, and all I have to do is say hi!  But no, he's probably chatting with her.  He probably doesn't want to chat with me."

I felt like I was finally starting to come down a little, and borrowed Katie and Lisa's bubbler to smoke a bowl.  I had a small amount of good weed stashed away and wanted to use it this night.  Soon, my thoughts turned from desolation and frantic need to make something happen, to a slightly less unnerving depression.

I beat myself up inside, overflowing with a need for a love that I have dreamed about my entire life yet so far hasn't been fully realized.  Bits and pieces here and there, fleeting moments, years of trying to adapt into a more realistic sense of what love should be.  But I desire the ultimate passion, the pure connection that will make all of the struggles in my life become easier to conquer, the one whose eyes I could look into and see the entire world.  I spent years loving the wrong man or not entirely loving someone that could be or could have been right.  I know that inside of me is a fiery, fiesty, living woman...and it will take one helluva man to bring it all out in it's sheer glory.  The face of this man changes in my dreams here and there, but the passion is still the same.  The dynamic, however, changes depending on the man who represents my ideal lover at the time.  Presently, he stands tall and strong, near superhuman in many ways.  His eyes say more than he does and his hands are quick and sure.  Through his strength, I stand as if I am granite, and life seems to feel like an endless haze of finding more ways to make love to each other, beyond the sexual realm.

I wanted to stay awake longer, but my common sense was kicking in, and I knew I couldn't sleep in very late.  I knew they rose earlier than I typically do (I still sleep past noon on my days off), and I would likely be driven back home by the time I would normally awaken.  So I hoped for a pleasant sleep, set my phone down to charge and quickly fell asleep.  I don't remember any dreams, only a long period of peaceful blackness.  I only got around six hours of sleep, but it was the deepest sleep I've had in a very long time.  I envied their roommate his bed.  It took me 45 minutes to get up.  I wanted to spend the day in it, resting.

In the bathroom mirror, I looked like hell.  My skin was pale.  I appeared older and thinner.  Briefly I scanned my hair for grey or white, and found nothing.  The memory of the night before still weighed heavily on my shoulders.  I couldn't let this wear on my day.  I pushed it all out of my head and settled in the living room with the perfect cup of coffee (courtesy of Lisa and her French press, and the surprise fact that we use the same creamer).  A couple of hours later, I was all packed up, the bed sheets were changed, and we were sitting in the drive thru at Taco Bell grabbing a quite bite on the way out.

I don't believe I'll ever have a reason to try magic mushrooms again.  Inevitably, I will wind up alone in my thoughts and I will be eaten alive by them.  I don't want that to happen any more than it has to.