The TL;DR - Foolishly took too much acid. First and only trip, died and went to hell.
This is going to be extremely long. As I start writing this, I don't know how I'm going to feel as I uncover memories I've been running from for 18 years. I'm new to Reddit, and I've been lurking on this Subreddit for a couple of days now, blown away by what I'm reading.
I wish I had a resource like this when I experienced my trip--to have had people who understood what had happened to me and could help me understand or make sense of it. More importantly, to let me know that I wasn't alone. I tripped alone, died alone, and I fought to regain my sanity over the next 3 years alone. I recovered as well as I could from it alone, thinking someone would call me crazy if they knew. I believe the only difference between a madman and a sane man is simply having a witness--someone who understands.
Foreword: I don't know all of the lingo spoken here, so forgive me for my elementary approach. I'll try to explain what I can to the best of my ability, and I imagine a great majority of you may possibly just yawn and think been-there-done-that, but I think more than anything, this is going to be therapeutic for me. Even if I get no feedback, just putting it into words and resurrecting memories from vaults I've locked away may just be what needs to be done--but to a witness who might just understand.
*Picking a Destination*
"If there was a drug that made you live your worst nightmare, would you take it?" I asked as I exhaled. The crackling fire lit our faces and flooded out the darkness settling in around the two of us. "Hell no!" My friend Dave exclaimed as I passed back the little bronze bowl. We sat silently for a few moments, then he laughed that stoner laugh that you sometimes arrive at when you realize you were lost in your own deep thought and quickly snapped back to reality. He fired it up and took another hit before passing it back to me. I looked at the bowl pensively. It was nearly cashed, but enough left for one more good hit. "I think I would." I mused. The glow flickered in the metal bowl as I struck the lighter.
*Buying the Tickets*
July 3rd 1999. BIG party in the Nantahala Gorge in western NC, where I grew up. I was never much for big parties or lots of people. I was 19, and had lived a fairly sheltered life. I had a strict, overprotective mother (who was a police officer) and good ole Southern Baptist upbringing. The wailin' and screamin' and hollerin' and speaking in tongues--pretty much just left of throwing snakes. I had hit a bit of a rebellious streak and smoking pot opened my mind in ways I never could have imagined. I loved it. But I eventually wanted something more. What I'd heard of acid intrigued me, but Dave was adamantly against it. He would have no part of it and suggested I do the same--but when did anything short of a gun to my head change my mind once it was set?
The Rolling Thunder River Company hosted the party in the Gorge. And the Gorge was famous for river hippies and paddlers, the Grateful Dead Tie Die crowd--not particularly my scene, but I went hoping I could score some acid and smoke with some pros. I don't remember anything about that party except the drunk guy that sold me 9 hits of acid. (squares? tabs? IDK, I'll just call them hits.) We were standing around in a circle holding beers, passing bowls--just bullshitting--all strangers. The curly brown haired guy beside me seemed to get SUPER excited when I casually mentioned in a side conversation what I was there looking for. "Follow me!" He said as hushedly as a drunk guy could. We walked down a stone path away from the music and crowd. He pulled some plastic out of his pocket and tore away a perforated paper that amounted to 9 little squares. Five bucks a piece I gave him and we rejoined the crowd.
I bought 9 hits because I had discussed my plans to take acid with a couple of girls who were stoked and wanted to take it with me, but for whatever reason, they turned out unable to do it over the 4th of July weekend. I was too impatient to wait until they could, so I sold 2 of the hits to this one chick I knew and kept 7 for myself.
*Boarding*
My weed dealer was a grotesquely obese indian (Cherokee) guy named Zeke. He could play guitar like nobody's business, and one of Dave's and my favorite things to do was go buy a bag from Zeke, then smoke up in his basement while he sat in front of us wailing Pantera songs with his guitar resting across his big, fat belly. I told Zeke about the acid--and lack of a place to take it, since you know, Cop Mom at my house--and we came up with the plan for me to come to his house in Cherokee to take my trip. We weren't super close, but I trusted him enough that I figured he'd be good to be around if I needed help.
The day arrived as we had planned. I packed up a change of clothes and all the necessities and headed over to Zeke's house. It looked a lot different lit up during the day--I guess I had only seen it late and night when Dave and I would call him up with our analog cell phones--and because my mom's police scanner would often pick up one or both sides of random people's cell phone conversations, we would ask in code, "Hey Zeke, can I borrow that Pantera CD?" He'd say yes if he had some weed to sell us LOL.
Zeke invited a friend over for the occasion. I guess he wanted someone to drink with since I would be tripping and he would not. It was another big indian carrying two 24 packs of beer. He was not quite so big that he breathed heavily while sitting perfectly still like Zeke did, but big enough to his own rights. I didn't know him. And he seemed kind of sketchy, but he was one of Zeke's best friends, so I went with it and struck up small talk to try and find some common ground with him. I may not have been perfectly at ease, but it wasn't enough to deter my plans.
(Note: I just realized how much I've written at this point, and I haven't even taken the acid yet. I think somewhere deep inside I'm avoiding going there because I know I'm going to be confronting it head on and triggering those feelings I've fought so hard to bury. My chest is literally tightened with dread. This must seem incredibly stupid if you're still here lol)
*Takeoff*
It was a beautiful sunny day. Zeke and his friend had already started working on their case-of-beer-each while intermittently shooting some Tanqueray from those mini bottles you get at the liquor store counter. I sat outside on a picnic table and took a single hit of acid. I remember a kind of bitter taste. I held it under my tongue and swished my spit around in my mouth, purposely not swallowing until I had to. I think I waited about 30 minutes. I was watching this beautiful field of grain across the road blowing gently in the breeze thinking that would be the perfect thing to be looking at when it hits me. When's it going to hit me? Did I take enough? Maybe I should take another. So I did.
Another 30 minutes (I'm guessing) had passed after I took the second hit. Why wasn't this working? I flashed back to the first few times I smoked pot and didn't experience anything. I looked at the remaining 5 hits and thought maybe they're weak or the acid got rubbed off. Maybe I should take 2 more. So I did. Well shit, I only have 3 left, might as well take these too. The last 5 hits I took within a few minutes of each other, and I chewed these up, not savoring like I did the first two.
I focused on that field of grain across the street. It was shining brilliant gold with the sun hitting it perfectly while a gentle breeze waved the grains in random patterns (god my pulse IRL right now). I became fixated on the patterns emerging from the grain and let my mind drift. When's this going to work? IS this going to work? How will I know? And how the hell is the wind making the trees behind the field of grain bend like that? That is so cool. I looked down at the road between me and the wavy field. The road is bending back and forth just like those trees... My arms! My car! This picnic table! It's all moving! Holy shit, it's starting!
I was blown away by what I was seeing. This was absolutely incredible. I became euphoric and elated and HAD to go tell Zeke. I burst in the house. Dude, I think it's starting! I sat down on the living room couch where Zeke and friend were chatting and stacking beer cans, and I just sat looking around the room at all the movement, mezmerized.
Before this moment, when someone would describe what they saw on acid, they would say something like "The lamp started melting." And in my mind, I envisioned ONLY the lamp melting and nothing else. I looked at the nearest lamp and realized that it wasn't just the lamp, but it was the lines in the paneling behind it. It was the TV the lamp sat on. Everything in my field of vision was wavy and moving, not just a single object. Because all objects were moving uniformly regardless of depth between the objects, my vision suddenly took on a Two-Dimensional feel. Like my whole field of vision was thin as paper and everything in front of me could be ripped if someone just reached through and pierced it. I could see how someone could lose touch with reality witnessing this. There was nothing to ground or affix to. But I told myself this is what I signed up for, go with it. Enjoy it. And I did. For what I think was about an hour.
*Turbulence*
This is where it gets hard to explain. Up until now, the visuals I was experiencing across my entire field of vision were very random. Like little firework bursts everywhere with no pattern or reason. Here, and there, and there, and there. I started noticing on the right side of my field of vision, the patterns were aligning themselves into a single wave that stretched from the top all the way to the bottom. One single wave on the right 1/4 side of my vision. The left side was still bursting with random patterns. The wave on the right side didn't bother me, but it set up warning flags. That's curious. What's going on here?
I continued to enjoy the sensations I was experiencing until I noticed the one wave on the right side of my vision had peaked, and was starting to grow into a second wave. Now I have two waves on the right side of my vision and it's growing slowly to about half my total field of vision. The left side is still random bursts. I suddenly have the startling realization that this wave is eventually going to grow into three... four... as many as it takes to cover my entire field of vision. I'm being pulled under this thing. Taken over. And I'm going to have to wait until it passes completely. Like a train slowly passing by me. But I don't know how long it is.
"Like an A-Train?" this voice in my head said audibly, kind of giggling like he knew this was why they called it an A-Train and he was amused that I was just discovering it. That voice was me, but not me. It was some kind of inner dialogue that I could converse with and I couldn't control what he said, but it was still me. (I have no idea how else to explain it, but this voice is going to be my guide through this whole ordeal.) And he presented himself confidently as someone with authority. He knows what's happening to me and he may tell me or may not. But most of all, he presented himself as the absolute truth. I wasn't allowed to question or argue with him.
Panic starts to set in at the thought of being pulled under this wave. I try to keep my composure as the waves are nearing 3/4ths of my vision and Zeke and Friend are unaware. I start casually trying to explain what I'm experiencing without giving away the terror I'm on the verge of. I'm nearly fully consumed by this growing wave. The random bursts on the left side now have just a TINY strip of area to burst and play. I look at those bursts that I was JUST enjoying not that long ago--and linger on them as long as I can, like waving goodbye to a friend that's sailing away on a ship until they're out of sight.
I'm avoiding the wave. Once it reaches my full field of vision, I will be fully dragged under and I won't be back until it's done. I ask the voice when is it going to be done? LOL you took 7 hits of acid (again almost giddy), who knows?
I'm failing miserably to keep my composure. I look to Zeke to help me out. When I revealed how much acid I took, Zeke's friend shook his head and spoke to Zeke like I wasn't there. "Stupid kids, man. That stuff's just rat poison for your brain." The Voice laughed, a little colder this time. Exactly. Rat poison for your brain.
*Engine Failure*
I knew Zeke had been around some people who have partied hard before. He said he had been with people who had bad trips. It was one of the reasons I was okay coming here to do this. I looked to Zeke for some reassurance. I'm on the couch by myself and Zeke is to my left. His friend is uninterested, drinking to my right.
Me: Have you been with someone before who's done this? (my elbows rest on my knees as I lean forward) Zeke: Yeah I have. Me: (I lean back on the couch) Am I going to be okay? Zeke: Yeah, you'll be fine. Me: (I sit up more straight) Do you know how long I'm going to be like this? Zeke: I don't know, man.
Me: Well, have you been with someone before who's done this? (elbows are back on my knees) Zeke: Yeah dude. Me: (leaning back again) Am I going to be okay? Zeke: Yeah dude, you'll be fine. Me: (Sitting up again) How long will I be like this? Zeke: I don't know, man.
I don't realize I'm looping these three questions (and body positions!). I don't have the cognizance to realize I had just asked the same question two questions ago. I'm just naturally flowing along this line of thinking from one question to the other. I asked Zeke later how many times I looped and he said a LOT.
Here's where it gets unfortunate. I had gone to a concert at Ground Zero in Spartanburg, SC the night before. I swear it was Fear Factory, but I can't find a record of that show from 1999. It very well could have been someone else, but my gut memory tells me it was Fear Factory, so I'm going with that as if it matters. My ears were still ringing from the show (tinnitus I later learned it's called). Just a constant droning ringing. Faint for the most part--unless you fixate on it. And guess what I fixated on.
I don't know how many times I went through this loop of questions before I realized I was looping. And not just looping the same questions, but my body position was the same at each question. Every single time. I became aware of this loop and the persistent ringing in my ears. It was like I was a third party, watching myself loop.
The Voice giggled again--Well now you've done it. Done what? You know. No I don't. Don't lie--you KNOW. I knew... The loop wasn't really happening. I was seeing the last 45 seconds of memory over and over as my brain had entered the shut down process. The ringing in my ears? It was the heart monitor flat lining as I slowly died in an emergency room.
You killed yourself. Fuck.
*The Descent*
I know what it feels like to die. Not physically. But mentally, from the moment a person realizes they're truly going to die--if they're unlucky enough to experience that realization before their actual death--I know what it feels like. If you truly think you're about to die, I believe you still experience the same emotions whether you experience the physical death or not.
Dying felt like my brain did a purge of its RAM and sent it all through the Processor at one time. My entire life flashed through the forefront of my brain in an instant. (Cliche, right?). I saw everything from my earliest memories of walking in diapers all the way through the latest fight with my mom. While everything flashed instantly, some things stood out. Regrets weighed the most. Things I never did but wanted to. Relationships I let wither away through inattention. The worst part was thinking of my mom holding my hand while I lay comatose in a hospital, my brain slowly easing away. It's all gone. Everything. I'm alone. Nobody around me knows what's happened but me, and they'll ever never know. My life book was stamped with the thud of a cold, indifferent red rubber stamp. Closed.
*Crash Landing*
I don't know how long I died on the couch, but my next memory is when I snapped back to the living room I was in. Back to the body I was in. I'm sitting on the same couch. There's a loud clock ticking on the wall across from me. Everything's quiet except for Zeke and his friend passed out on the floor in front of me, both snoring. Something about this is eerily familiar. Like I've been here before. Incredible Deja Vu. I've seen this exact scene before! But how?! The couch, the clock, the guys snoring. Maybe I dreamed it before. Maybe all through your life you randomly dream of where you land when you die as some kind of sick joke, and then when you actually die and survey that familiar scene, it's confirmation that you're...
"Dead." The Voice got my attention. "You wasted your whole life the way you did and now you're here." (He's such a bastard.) (But to be fair, he is me so I guess I'm such a bastard lol) I hated how arrogant he was. How everything he said to me was with this smugness like he'd been trying to warn me for ages and I refused to listen, and now I'm getting what I deserve.
"Suicide!" He gasped feigning surprise like he was reading about me for the first time from a chart, but his voice sounded suspiciously like delight. "And you know what that means." He never asked me anything. Asking me would imply that I had a choice in what to answer. He always TOLD me. He directed me to the first thought that came to my head. It was my mom's voice in a conversation we had years ago. "Suicides go to hell."
"NO! This can't be!" Sometimes the REAL me could surface briefly. Like being held under water and you use all your strength to get your head out and breathe. The real me would say "You took a lot of acid, you're okay, just hold on" and we'd get pulled back under to succumb to whatever fate. But just hold on.
I HAVE to get off this couch. My first thought is to go outside. Change your venue. I look at the front door to the right. It's getting dark outside. I opened the door, and I don't know if I really heard it or not, but it sounded like a jet was flying over us way up in the sky, but the roar and the color of the sunset looked like distant fire and scared the shit out of me, so I closed the door. This is not an option. If I'm in hell, at least there's no fire in here. I could deal with being inside.
Standing at the front door looking in, the Death Couch is to the left. I ain't going that way, so naturally I look to the right. There's a hallway with a bathroom down there. Go chill in the bathroom. Just get away from that damn couch.
The bathroom was incredibly small. Just enough room for a toilet and a sink with a big mirror. Approaching the door, I noticed how small it was and almost talked myself out of it. Claustrophobia tried to steer me away, but fear of being near that couch was stronger. I stepped cautiously into the tiny bathroom. WHAT THE FUCK just looked at me from the mirror?! I NOPE'd the bjeezus out of that bathroom and found myself walking the hallway back toward.... shit the couch. Dammit. I can't win.
I'm facing the couch now. The door is to the left, can't go there, just turn right again. Okay, the kitchen. It's not ideal, but it's not the Death Couch or the Demon Mirror Bathroom. Dirty dishes piled up on the sink, little bottles of Tanqueray and orange juice lying everywhere. It's messy but there's a chair by the fridge. I take a seat. I'm facing the sink. The faucet catches my eye.
The Real me swam to the surface. OMG! I CAN'T BE IN HELL, THERE WOULD BE NO WATER IN HELL! YOU CAN'T DRINK IN HELL! Finally! A ray of light. Some logic crept in and tried to set me straight. I'll just drink some water! I placed my hand on the faucet. Something stopped me just before I raised the lever. The Voice was back.
"Go ahead, lift it. You know what's going to happen." He chided. I said "There's going to be no water, isn't there?" He didn't respond, he just smiled. Like he was waiting for me to do it and see for myself. And I couldn't see him smiling, but it's like how you're on the phone with someone, and they smile, and you can just TELL they're smiling. That motherfucker bluffed me so hard. I know today that if I lifted the faucet, water would have come out. I KNOW this now. But I was so TERRIFIED of lifting the faucet and having nothing come out--because it would just confirm that I was in Hell...It would be solid proof--So I couldn't bring myself to do it.
THE FRIDGE HAS DRINKS! YOU COULDN'T DRINK IF YOU WERE IN HELL! DRINK SOMETHING!! I opened the refrigerator and saw all sorts of sodas, beer, juice. My hand reached for an orange juice. The voice was watching over my shoulder, just waiting for me to grab one. "You're going to drink it all now??!" he said incredulously. "You realize if you drink it all now, you'll have none for later. And you're going to be here forever." I closed the fridge. I sat down on the chair by the fridge defeated.
A startling realization overcame me. I came to the conclusion on my own, with no help from the Voice. I must be in Hell. Because in Hell, you have a water faucet right in front of you. Drinks in the fridge beside you, and you can't drink. It's so much more deliciously appropriate than to put you in a Hell with no water. You are put in Hell WITH water and no ability to drink it. I started to succumb to my fate.
*Lost Baggage*
GET OUT OF THE KITCHEN, STUPID! I got up and walked back to the living room. There were no more right turns. I was headed toward the couch. I can't go to the couch or I'll be in Hell. I walked past the couch toward the front door. I can't go out the front door or I'll be in Hell. I turned toward the hallway. I can't go in the hallway or I'll be in Hell. I'm back at the kitchen. Nope. Back to the Couch. Door. Hallway. Kitchen... Couch... By trying to avoid all of these places, I became aware that I was walking a spiral path whose central point was the middle of the living room.
The Voice told me that single point in the middle of the living room was to be my final resting place. I tried fighting, but there was nowhere to go. All exits were covered around me. And oddly, when I tried to change my trajectory on the spiral path from side to side, I physically could not. I could only walk forward along the spiral, or backwards along the part of the spiral I had already been on. Doing so was like watching a video tape of someone walking and then rewinding it. This was my path. I was destined for this path and it pointed to the central point in the living room. I finally gave in.
I collapsed in the middle of the spiral in the living room. Here's where I'm going to end. Thick pile carpet with a musty smell. It's really soft. Kind of nice actually. Hmmm. This isn't so bad really. Maybe Hell's not that bad. I mean, there's no fire. Maybe I'm not in H.. Then the screw started turning.
I felt like I had a giant human-sized screw driven through the top of my head and it twisted about a quarter turn with every one of my heartbeats. It started turning my head to the left. Turn. Turn. Turn. Farther and farther with each beat until my head would not turn any more. Then it started twisting my torso the other direction. Each beat another small twist of the screw. It made its way to my legs and ultimately twisted my knees and feet in the opposite direction as my head until my body physically could not contort any more. It was excruciating and I could not fight it.
A billion tons of concrete fell on me instantly, suffocating me... Locking my aching, contorted into place. I couldn't move. I could barely breathe. I saw in my mind a long rail that snaked and curved as far as existence would allow. Hanging on this rail were billions and billions of brown suit jackets. I had a coat hanger stuck through my shoulders. I became a brown suit, exactly like all of the other countless suits. I was hung up among them. A Nothing.
I experienced Eternity here. I became matter and energy floating around the Universe. I could have been there for 3 seconds or 3 lifetimes, I would have no way of knowing. The Voice came to talk to me. And for the first time in the whole ordeal, he didn't sound smug. He sounded sad.
"Well, this is where you end." he began. He sounded like someone who was reading from a script and like he had done it countless times, but no matter how many times he had given this speech, it resonated within him and caused him a sadness beyond comprehension. "The Creator may decide to use you again, or he may not. It's up to him to decide, but don't count on it. Goodbye." I was left alone. I felt for the first time in my life, no redemption, no return.... finality and utter Hopelessness.
I don't know how long I was in the floor. But I drifted in and out of the Universe for all I can think to describe as "forever." Just when my body in that position hurt so much to the point of being unbearable, it switched to pleasure. That pleasure grew and grew until I could not bear it, then it switched to pain again. This cycle continued like a fast running clock... where at midnight it switched to pain, and 6:00 it switched to pleasure and just cycled over and over forever.
*Spirals and Circles*
GET UP! JUST GET UP! The Real me beckoned briefly before his head sank below the water again. My body unlocked. I was still in the floor. I pulled myself up on the couch and sat down with my head down in my hands. What the fuck is wrong with me.
I snapped back to the body I was in. I'm sitting on the same couch. There's a loud clock ticking on the wall across from me. Everything's quiet except for Zeke and his friend passed out on the floor in front of me, both snoring. Something about this is eerily familiar. Like I've been here before. Incredible Deja Vu. I've seen this exact scene before! But how?! The couch, the clock, the guys snoring. Maybe I dreamed it before. Maybe all through your life you randomly dream of where you land when you die as some kind of sick joke, and then when you actually die and survey that familiar scene, it's confirmation that you're...
"Dead."
*SOS* (If you're still here, holy hell. High 5) I don't know exactly how many times I ran this Groundhog Day nightmare of a loop. My best guess would be that it took me about an hour (Earth time lol) to run the whole process. I think I may have run it more than 10 times. Each time was easier than the time before, as the Real me was able to stay above water for longer periods of time. It was 19 hours from the start of the trip to when the Real me was back in control enough to get home.
Each time around the loop followed the same thought process, but I started becoming more and more aware as time passed that I was looping. At certain critical points around the loop (like the water faucet) I would get insane feelings of Deja Vu. That feeling like "I've been here before!" to this day 18 years later still gives me mini panic attacks, like I'm going to be sucked back into Hell.
Several times around the loop, I thought about killing myself. Once, I thought if I just jump off the balcony head first, this will all end. The Voice seemed to want me to do it. Not directly, but he'd coax me and tell me that it could all be over... oh hey a knife! It was very tempting at times. But the Real me would always swim as hard as he could to the surface and yell one thing.... IF YOU'RE ALREADY DEAD, KILLING YOURSELF WON'T WORK. RIDE THIS OUT AND YOU'LL BE OKAY!!! Me saved me from me.
*Return Flight* It took a few years to get my sanity back from this experience. For those years, I constantly fought for my mind and soul. Every minute of every day. Some days I would win. It was just a trip, you're not going to Hell. Some days I would simply get behind a car with 666 in their license plate and I would lose hard.
I constantly felt this impending doom. Like someone had a gun behind my head and I was just waiting for them to pull the trigger but they never would. But the feeling that it was going to happen was still there. All the time.
In 1999, the internet was still in its infancy. I wish I'd had the resources we have today. I wish I could have read some of the things I've read in the last couple of days by you people that are much stronger and in control than I am and had your knowledge laid out before I tripped and fell.
But again, maybe it was exactly what I needed. This ordeal pretty much ended my relationship with drugs. I have a very addictive personality. I began drinking when I quit smoking, and I drank for a solid 8 years before I had the strength to quit. I'm working on my 10th year of sobriety this September. At 37, I'm on course to outlive my dad, who died at 43 from drinking his whole life. I have the most amazing wife and kids and a job that I absolutely love. I have a great life that I've worked hard for.
If you hung with me through this entire story, I truly thank you. I'm sorry if it seemed uneducated and rookie-like around the subject. It probably seems silly or stupid to most people, but it was a big deal for me to write this and address it and stop running from it. I don't feel as shaken up as I thought I would, and while I know there's always going to be some delicacies in my mind, knowing someone else may read this and unload just a little bit of the burden helps in ways I can't begin to explain.
May all your trips be golden grain. And may your Voice just not be an asshole.
