The Chaos Within(out?)

October the 27th, 2020, Saturday night. We took 3 rainbow gel tabs.

These are our favorite LSD we've gotten so far, lots of nice visuals, things go crisp and twinkley, everything tends to sparkle, it's just gorgeous. We figured it might be the last weekend we get a good chance to trip before my Dad and Sister come up here, even though we tripped last weekend too. So we wait until later in the night this time, it's 9:27 PM when we drop. I always try and look at the clock, because of how time feels when tripping. I like a starting and an ending point. When we look at the clock again(there is always this aversion to looking at what time it is), we'll know the trip is over, it's kind of how we just always end up doing it, not even on purpose really.

I wasn't even sure I wanted to try and write this report up, it was such an intense time. It was...exhilarating? Terrifying? Horrifying? Thrilling? Educational? Blissful? All of this...The night started normal, as normal as trips go for us at least. Things get warbly, we put some music on, we hang out and talk a lot on the come up, smoke some weed(I smoke all during a trip, generally. As soon as I start to feel sick, I'll take a hit, and be good). I don't even remember exactly what was going on, or what we were doing, or what I was thinking, but early in the night, I say to my husband, “Whenever someone tells me a story, like from their past, I can feel it as if it's my own memory, like in my head.” The more and more psychedelics we take, the more I am convinced I am either psychic, or fucking bat shit crazy(both? Neither?). Too many weird coincidences from early in my life, years and years before I even smoked weed even, weird things I've been able to just know about someone. Not like Telepathy or something, but closer to Empathy, I guess, I dunno.

Once I say it our loud, it kind of hits me, and so much makes sense to me from my life now. I'm 34 this month, and been tripping for a little over a year, and yet all these things made crazy connections during this night. Connections of things from my past, with my family, growing up, all of it up until I'm here. I had no idea I was around so much trippy shit as a kid. I'm feeling pretty nauseous now, not uncommon on LSD for me, it's pretty normal that I feel gross on the come up. So we finally go outside, it's misty, but we can still see stars. Going outside always seems to minimize my nausea, so I'm stoked to finally feel comfortable for a minute. I love finding a certain angle that just FEELS good, and stay there, stare at that space, and let my eyes just do whatever they want, let my mind disappear into what I hear in my head.

But the hubby is there, he's talking, he's moving around, it doesn't quite feel right, like he's distracting. Every time I start to pull away to sort of relax into I guess what you could call a sort of meditation. I can feel the peak coming, I know what I need and what I want to do, but I can't do it with him there, and I can't explain that to him, he doesn't get it, he gets upset if we're tripping and I ask to be alone. So I just hang on, refuse to let myself get past that point of LOSING MYSELF, which is this ultimate freedom, this release for me, it feels just so amazing to feel...free? Free. I love it, that feeling of just bliss is why I love LSD so much.

But we're talking instead, and my mind is still racing in too many directions, thought loops that are becoming increasingly dangerous, and I can feel that danger, and I'm holding myself separate from my thoughts, or at least trying to, but also trying to engage my hubby, and I end up thinking about my Dad, and/or I say something about him. And not even a moment later, I forgot what I said, like I desperately chased what it was, because I knew it was important, and it's something I wanted to say TO my Dad. I asked the hubby, and he didn't know, he was having a hard time pulling it back out of his memory too. So I start trying to backtrack into my thoughts, find where I de-railed and my mouth and my mind disconnected. I found where I lost the thought, but it brought me somewhere else, back to a memory that wasn't mine.

My thoughts reminded me and our conversation reminded me, and I said out loud something about this horrifyingly BAD trip my Dad and my Mom had when they were younger, before I was born. It was BAD, my Dad told me briefly about it one time, he saw my Mom's Darkness that night, and he should have left her right then and there. He said all this to me months ago, we were talking. But what I said earlier comes back, that when someone tell's me a story, I feel it as if its my memory, so when my Dad told me that story, I felt his memory, felt my Mom's too, she just recently left from visiting my home a couple weeks ago.

Standing in the dark with my hubby, my mind spiraling rapidly into fragments, I felt myself get lost. Like, LOST, not just free. For a moment, I was there in my parent's memories, in the hotel room with my parents, but it's not like I was standing in the room, it was a flash in my senses, a rage of violent, colorful chaos, filled with endless screams and agony and joy. I lost myself into that horror of my parent's bad trip from before I was even born(so I guess I kind of was there, an egg and a sperm inside my parents), my vision was it, all my senses filled with it, and I felt myself disappear into that horrific trip from before I was even born. We were tripping, my parents had tripped, my dad had told me the story, so I felt like I was there, in both of their minds during that trip, my mom acting a fucking Demon, and my dad trying to deal with her and maintain, all on too much acid, and it exploded into a hurricane of emotion, swallowing my reality.

Right as I realized I was lost in this abyss of insanity that wasn't my own, some thread screamed at me what was happening, that I was getting sucked away. I ripped back from that oblivion, and all of a sudden I was back in my own mind, but there were like tendrils connecting me still. My hubby looked hard at me all of a sudden, “What the fuck was that? I heard that!” I couldn't answer him right away. I had to step away, I was shaking, clinging to this reality like a life boat, feeling and knowing that the slightest thought back towards what had just happened, and I would get sucked in again. I could feel it pulling at me, wanting me like a starved thing.

I told him I would tell him, but I needed a minute to settle, I was teetering on the edge of breaking down into sobs, but if I did that, it would swallow me again, I knew it. I had to re-solidify myself, I couldn't speak, and I kept trying to fall back in. Like it was trying to rip me back into it, my mind kept trying to drop back into the loops, and I fought, I fought fucking harder than I've fought in my life to try and think of something else. People don't always realize you can control your own thoughts, but it is so, so difficult, especially when there is a tiny thread that wants to go back there.

I asked the hubby what he thought happened, he said, “I heard that, what the fuck was it?” And I knew the sound he had heard, because I had heard it too, the moment I broke and reality shattered and I ripped back out of it, all in an instant. Like a lightning bolt, a deafening CRACK of thunder, that was the sound it made in our(I guess, cuz he heard it too) heads when I broke free of my parent's bad trip from years ago. Sitting writing this, I feel like it's not as fluid as other reports, it's choppy, my mind is still fried, my body and hands are trembling just typing this. The memory still feels too raw. Everything feels raw. I didn't want to write this yet, because all I have to do to start feeling it again is start thinking about it, and I'm trying not to, but I wanted to get it down before it faded any more anyways.

I tried explaining what had happened to the hubby, and he understood, sort of. He understood it had been a dangerous moment, one that would have been so easy to disappear into, and I can 100% see how acid could make someone go fucking nuts enough to end up in the crazy house. Before going into the house, I bluntly asked him, “Babe, am I psychic, or am I crazy?” He answered, “We'll just cross our fingers that it's psychic.” Fucking so helpful.

We finally made it back into the house, though I was almost afraid to. The trip had waned, but it was still there, still wanting to suck me back into its edges. It's like 2 AM. We lay in bed, and I was afraid to even try to sleep, so I just lay there, staring at the ceiling. I did finally close my eyes, and I kind of slept. The more psychedelics we do, the more I feel like some sort of mental abilities could potentially be a thing. I've never been disbelieving of such things, but I find myself leaning more an more into full belief. I better fucking believe in them I guess. Otherwise, I really am just fucking crazy.