[MrGraham]

I wrote this a year or so ago. I still would recommend trying it to anyone who hasn't, as I have appreciated life a lot more since this night.

So there's a story I've been wanting to get off my chest for quite a while. I haven't yet as the subject matter is pretty ... inappropriate? even by my standards. However, as the events that transpired are quite a ways behind me now, chronologically and otherwise, and I still haven't gotten it out of my head, so regardless of how long and boring it is to other people, it's time I got it off my chest.

So without further ado, the story of the last drug induced night I'll probably ever have...



As a little background, my history in substance abuse is as follows: I started drinking at 15, and slowly over the rest of my high school years I added pot and whatever pills we could get a hold of to that lineup. Before I finished college I had also tried speed and shrooms, and then while in California I was introduced to robotripping, which became my habit of choice up until I quit everything. I don't feel there's anything wrong with trying these substances, as with everything there is a time and a place for it. It has stopped being that time and place for me.

Due to my attitude regarding substance abuse, and the fact that at this particular time in my life I was very bored with what was going on around me and always looking for new things to occupy my time, when the opportunity came up to try acid for the first time I took it. I'd managed to avoid being around anyone on acid up until that point, so my experience with it was limited to online reading and watching Fear and Loathing three hundred times.

My first trip was very uneventful. I enjoyed it thoroughly however. We stayed up all night, wrote and wrote and wrote, couldn't stop laughing, and were completely full of very positive ENERGY. It was a good night.

So I did it again. This night was not as positive. We stayed up all night, some really deep conversations were had, but it was nothing revolutionary, and really not much better than what we could've done sober. Both times, I had nothing in the way of serious hallucinations, or even mild hallucinations like I could obtain with fucking Robitussin. Disappointment all around.

So the third time, the decision was made to double the dose. This brings us to the night that is the point of the story. Before I go on, I'll try to explain the basics of hallucinating to people who haven't experienced it. Remember those Magic Eye pictures? If you stare at it, and relax your eyes enough, you begin to see things that weren't originally there. These drugs are the same way, except with reality instead of just an ink blot looking picture, and with your mind instead of your eyes. And it's really hard NOT to relax. So with a concerted effort, you can focus on something you know is real and break free of a hallucination, at least until you lose focus again. The further you slip into it though, the harder this becomes. While hallucinating, you have ... realizations. Something you are experiencing has convinced you of something, and you believe it with extreme conviction. This is best shown in the scene of Almost Famous when he dives off the roof of the house exclaiming "I am a golden God"... while hallucinating it is easy to become thoroughly convinced this is true, at least until you're convinced of a new truth.

At first, when I realized I was actually going to hallucinate this trip, I just looked at random things and let my mind relax. A lampshade was quite entertaining, the pattern on it pulsing and moving. And then we were outside, watching the trees touch each other, watching the sky open up. And then we had to go back inside, because I had to sit down. So I laid down on a bed, my friend sat in a chair, and I tried to get control of the maelstrom that was happening in my mind.

Then the Sober Roommate (SR) came in, and started telling us a story. At this point, I lost what little grip on reality I had. His story was about his weekend, and how he had spent it at a spiritual retreat, and how his eyes were irritated because he had been helping chop onions, and then he went for a swim and the chlorine in the pool made his eyes worse, so he finally ran inside to get water from the sink to wash them out, but there were lights in the house that blinded, and then when he got to the sink he could finally see clearly again. This is when I had my first realization - "The SR knows that we are fucked up and is taking advantage of the opportunity to tell us a Christian/Jesus parable about finding the light!" I couldn't follow the rest of the story, it kept repeating and messing up my thoughts. (To this day, I have no idea if he was telling us a real story or what.) Finally, I couldn't stand the talking anymore, so I got up and went into the next room, and laid on the floor. I knew that my mind was messed up from the drug, and that it would pass, so I decided to try to just relax by myself and let it ride out its course. I closed my eyes, and tried to relax with colors and shapes bursting in my eyes.

When I opened them again, I was in the same bed, and the SR was telling the same story. I sat up quickly, and looked around, trying to figure out why I wasn't laying in the floor in the next room. SR looks at me oddly, "Is he OK?" he asks. "Oh yeah man, he's fine," friend says. I lay back down. Story resumes. Confused and upset, I start mocking the story in my mind. How obvious, how unsubtle it was. I started making sarcastic comments, "Oh yeah? Go back to that one part, with the pool, and the onions, and the bones along the road. How did that go again?" convinced it had already been repeated dozens of times. SR stops and looks at me again, "Are you sure he's OK?". Friend again, "Um, yeah, he'll be fine." I laid back down, and then reached for my cellphone. There had to be someone to call, to get me out of here, lock me in a room somewhere, something. Except ... my arm didn't move. I could feel my arm moving. But from what I could see, my arm was still laying flat beside me on the bed. This was disturbing, so I sat up. Except ... I was still laying on the bed, as far as I could see. So I waved a hand in front of my eyes. I could feel the wind from my hand on my face, I could feel my hand moving, but all I was seeing was SR and friend talking. I closed my eyes, and still saw the exact same thing. I gave up and laid back down, making what I was feeling line up with what I was seeing.

I paniced. "I think I've gone blind," I said. Nothing around me changed, neither of them took notice to what I had said. "Oh God, is this what being blind is like?" I continued. Maybe I was still in the other room, how would I know? My friend was talking now, which was a good change from hearing the same story, but I couldn't understand anything he was saying. It was similar to the Charlie Brown teacher, but less loud. Maybe what I was seeing was right, and what I was feeling wasn't? I had no way of knowing.

Then SR and I got up. Friend kept talking. I didn't mean to get up, and it didn't feel like I was getting up, but I was getting up. SR says, "Come on, I have something to show you." So I follow him into the other room, leaving talking friend behind. SR looks at me in other room. "How do you feel, Graham?" I think for a moment, and realize my feet are cold. "My feet are cold," I say. "Why are your feet cold, Graham?" I thought more, "It's warm inside, so I must be outside." And then we were outside. Friend and I were smoking and sitting, SR was looking down at us. I realize now that he has called someone to come pick us up. I don't know who, maybe the police, maybe some friends, who knows. "When will they get here?" I ask. "Who?" SR replies. I sigh. A car passes, and I get scared. "Let's go inside," I tell my friend. And then we're inside.

I look at SR. "My throat hurts," I tell him. "Why does your throat hurt?" he asks. I think. "I've been smoking." "Are your feet still cold?" "No." "So you've been smoking inside?" I think more. Suddenly a memory pops into my head. I'm sitting on the floor in the kitchen, smoking. Friend is lighting a cigarette off the oven. "We were inside because it was cold outside. That looks dangerous," I tell the SR. "It is dangerous," he responds. I notice flashing red lights in the window. "What's outside?" I ask. "You don't want to go outside," he tells me. At this point, a new realization hits me. "I'm fucking dead, not blind, aren't I?" I ask the sober roommate. I wasn't that upset about it, it was my fault entirely and it wasn't that bad of a way to go. "No, you're not dead, but you know what would be a good idea? Not lighting that cigarette."

I'm back in bed, SR is telling the same story. Immediately I get up, to go look in the kitchen and outside, make sure I didn't see my corpse anywhere. SR and Friend follow. No corpses, so I am relieved. "Hey, let's go smoke man," Friend says. I quickly say, "NO! No cigarettes. Don't light the fucking cigarette!" Friend looks at me, puzzled, SR laughs and says "That's once". As we're standing in this room, I notice something: SR and Friend are making the same hand gestures while talking they had made while telling the story and talking in the bedroom, as well as when we were smoking outside. This raises a flag, so I go back in the bedroom and lay back down. They start talking again. Same hand gestures. I think and focus, focus and think, trying to grab a hold of reality, then a whisper comes to me. "...once or twice a year, we get people together for it. Works every time. Nah, middle of the desert. He'll be ok, it wears off after a while..." and then I realize that I've been set up. Kidnapped by SR and some people. Maybe the spiritual retreat story had something to do with it. They were just acting, scaring me into never doing drugs again. It's worked.

I laugh out loud, and decide to go along with it. I start copying their hand gestures, mocking them. I get bored with that, so I lay down and close my eyes again, relaxing and waiting for it to end.

Their voices stop. I open my eyes and look around - they're gone. I get up, my movements line up with what I'm seeing, things seem normal. I walk around the apartment. No one is there, just me. Lights are on, things are normal. It's dark outside. Maybe they're just smoking on the front porch, maybe I fell asleep for a while and couldn't tell, who knows. I go to the front door, and try to open it. I can't. The knob wont turn, at all. I look out the window to see if I can see them out there, but I can't really see anything at all. So I go to the backdoor - same thing. I pull and push but the door isn't moving. Then a hand taps me on the shoulder.

"Where are you going?" SR is behind me, very calm. "I was just...", I paused. Somehow I knew. "I can't leave, can I?" SR had a sad smile as he shook his head. "Why am I stuck here?" I asked. "I don't know Graham, why would you be stuck here?" I knew, I realized, "I'm in hell, aren't I? I died, and I'm in hell." "Why would you be in hell, Graham?" I remembered the flashing red lights, and the kitchen. "We lit the cigarette, didn't we?" SR nodded.

---

OK yeah I'm stopping it there. It was good to write some of it out but I'm not motivated to write anymore and I really doubt this is interesting to anyone else. I think the realization order went something like this:

SR is trying to convert us to Jesus!
I'm blind.
I'm dead.
I'm kidnapped and they're acting to scare me.
I'm dead and in hell.
I'm just hypnotized to get me to quit smoking.
SR is God.
I'm God and SR is the devil.
I need to save the world.
I'm still in hell.
I'm not really in hell, I'm just keeping myself there because I'm not motivated enough to do anything about it.

Pass out, wake up, feel like shit, decide never again.
---

So I sent the story to the SR.

[09:43] SR: your since of reality was so skewed
[09:44] graham: these things happen
[09:44] SR: lol, i remember
[09:46] SR: and btw, you were the one repeating the story over and over, i stoped after about 5 min
[09:46] graham: i dont doubt it
[09:48] SR: you went into this horrible loop in your mind and kept making us go outside inside, to the bed, to the kitchen, to my room, friend was the devil, then you were the devil, then i was the devil, then i was good, then friend was good, the you were good, then you were jesus, and friend was bad, friend was the devil, and crazy stuff went on for hours
[09:49] graham: well, i'm glad i can laugh about it now!
[09:49] graham: it was terrifying at the time!
[09:49] SR: i know we had to calm you down, there were times you just started screaming
[09:52] SR: it was insane until i figured out what you were on, i knew you were on something when you came in
[09:52] graham: at least it makes for a decent story!
[09:53] SR: yeah, it does, and really made for an interesteing night
[09:53] graham: now you have a story to tell your kids to scare them out of doing drugs