It was
Veteran’s day 2011, which was also the Friday of November 11th, 2011.
I was quite excited to be nearly done with my first semester of college and
even more immediately excited about what I was about to purchase—four grams of
psilocybin mushrooms. At the time I had an immense fascination with such things
and I had also experimented with blotter papers of LSD a couple of times. I had
taken small doses of mushrooms in the past but that was completely different
than what was to come on this night.
This was
just my fascination… I wanted to explore the realm of possibility and
spirituality and I knew psychedelics were a perfect agent. In one acid trip I
sat in my room for an entire night with all my energy focused on a pen. I
wanted to persuade it to lift off the ground with my thoughts, but of course it
didn’t work; I merely became drained. But I knew it had to be plausible, given
the sheer immensity and impossibility of the universe as it is. I could feel the
absence of energy after hours of trying. Because of this I still believe it is
possible but that I was merely doing something wrong.
Anyway, I
sat in my friend’s garage, which was a preferred spot to hang out among our
group, and the mushrooms arrived just as the Sun began to set. Unlike most drug
deals, everything worked out like it was supposed to and it was even delivered
timely. I took the bag. It contained somewhere around ten long slender
mushrooms with small buds at the tips and gold spots on them. They kind of resembled
the number 1. I hung out for a few more minutes and when my friend returned
with a jar of peanut butter, I spread it on the mushrooms and ate them, piece
by piece, one by one. I did give a couple of them to my friend, because I had
bought so many of them.
Things were
normal for another hour or so. In this period of time I ended up going to a
friend’s nearby apartment with two of my friends who had taken a couple hits of
acid each. There was sort of a ‘kick-back’ in effect. My two friends and I were the only ones under the influence
of psychedelics from what I could tell. My friends were also the only two
people in the apartment whom I really considered my friends or even knew well
at all. Chaotic chatter was everywhere. Most of the lights were off, save a
long blacklight in the living room. Techno music played. Everyone else was
either drunk, smoking marijuana, or both. It was in this setting that the
mushrooms started to really take hold of me, and it was probably the worst
possible setting it could’ve happened, though initially I didn’t realize it.
Everything
changed. Time slowed down and sped up and stayed the same all at once. Space
and matter started to warp and breathe in the way psilocybin makes it do.
Everyone around me became mindless as they guzzled and swam in fumes of
careless alcoholic sexual ether. Simultaneously I reached an incredibly
frightening peak of awareness which there is no point in me trying to explain.
The music was now awful. The walls were terrifying. The people were even worse.
My stomach knotted up. I even started to moan in pain to myself. The unbearable
setting caused me to have physical pain. Then paranoia set in. I started to
fear that maybe I had taken too much and I wouldn’t be able to handle it. Or
even that I was given poisonous mushrooms by mistake. My mind raced as
culturally-installed filters and belief systems started to fade and dissolve,
plunging me into a mystic state.
Eventually
I found my breaking point. I turned to my two acid-tripping friends and told
them I couldn’t be in that apartment any longer. The energy felt like
hell. I promptly stood up and darted for
the front door without a good-bye of any kind. I had no desire (and likely no
ability) to speak with anyone in there, with the exception being my two
friends, who apparently sensed it too because they followed close behind me.
This was when the trip got even weirder.
We now had
a 30-minute-or-so walk ahead of us. I remember stumbling around and walking as
fast as I could, though my friends say I was walking fine. What I remember
perfectly is that I was falling behind them. My two friends were having some
sort of conversation that I was not following whatsoever. I pulled my phone out
of my pocket to check the time and remembered that the date was 11/11/11, the
day of all ones. I also noticed that 11:11pm was approaching, and that my phone
battery life was at 11%. Every value around me was aligning into oneness all at
this singular moment in time, which from my perception will always be eternal,
infinite, and nothing all at once. I realized what people mean when they say
“we are all one.” I envisioned pyramids and antichrists and pools of money and
for the first time in my life, I could clearly see all of the evil that works
in today’s power structure. I felt space gazing down at me and into me and knew
the true nature of God. It was almost the complete opposite of what I was
taught by society. It came to my awareness that all existence is nothing but a
twinkle in my eye-- a great “I,” which is me, and nothing is anything else. I
knew that this experience was God, everything was an illusion, and that in
reality I was dead.
But my
friends couldn’t see it. I began to say to them things like, “we’re dead,
aren’t we?” and “I can’t believe we’re finally dead.” They must have thought it
was some kind of joke because they simply replied, “Yep, we’re dead.” This
frightened me even more. There are no words that can explain the experience of
believing one is dead. I immediately thought of my mother’s heart breaking. I
envisioned people in mourning remembering the things I did in my life. I saw
people crying and heard them talk about how they just couldn’t believe it. My
family was damaged. The future was different for everyone who loved me, even if
they didn’t think they loved me. It was darker and sadder.
Suddenly my
phone rang. I answered to hear my friend’s mother asking me if I knew where he
had run off to. Not unusual; he is a rebellious bastard. Did I know? I didn’t
know if I did or not. I was in his garage earlier. But I couldn’t speak to her
any statements other than “Oh my God” or “I’m sorry.” She was very confused,
and all my attempts to fix it made her even more confused, but I’m sure she
eventually assumed I was on drugs.
Finally we
made it to the bridge by my friend’s house. Here we stopped to lie down and
look at the sky. I instantly felt peaceful. I was getting ahold of myself at
this point and remembered I was alive. But I also knew that I wasn’t alive in
the same way anymore. At a certain point of time in my walk, I changed, and as
an inevitable effect so did the universe. Instead of me being a product of the
universe, the universe was now a product of my interpretation. My mindset is
forever affected, because now I realize that no goal is too large, no matter
what anybody says. It is only doubt that holds us back. This experience helped
awaken me and turn me in the direction of what my life should be like, a vision
that keeps me going every day. The night of 11/11/11 will always be an axial
point in my life and an important experience that I couldn’t share with anyone
even if I wanted to.
I feel that
I probably sound like I’m full of shit to anyone reading this. But I’m okay with
that. From what I read these kinds of experiences are extremely subjective and
likely will not be seen as extraordinary to anyone outside of the experience
itself. But you know when it’s happening to you.
