Author's Notes:
You can read the first half of the recollection (here).
(T) indicates psychedelic experience.
Index:
Trip Notes:
Date: 10 Dec 2022
Time start: roughly 10:00
Substance: LSD
Dosage: 150mg
Location: Indoors/Apartment
Russian Courtship
"You wanna know something pretty accurate, which at the end of the day I know is always there, waiting for me? The one and only thing I'm pretty sure about. Not as belief but an obvious and present knowledge.." was what A. wrote to me the day before our first date.
"Everything is everything. God (or whatever) is a theater. Pretending to be everything to experience itself in every form interacting with itself. So it can see itself and exist in every form. It is the stage, the actors, the audience and the playwright. This ain't religion or some belief or book... I'm pretty sure."
Fast forward to the next weekend, and I was waiting to see my new beloved again at the lobby of his apartment building. I had brought extra clothes, knowing I was going to stay for the weekend.
The door swung open and there he was, all excited to take me upstairs. He helped with my bags, and I asked, "So what's the surprise?"
"I have a nice surprise for you on Friday," he texted before.
"Can I ask for hints?"
"Nope. You'll have to wait."
"Okie dokie, but please don't buy me a second pair of glasses!" I laughed.
During our previous weekend together, he had dragged me out to an optometrist to replace my spectacles which were being held together by two pieces of a whisk, hair bands, and broken dreams.
"I should be cooler and stretch it out. I only have so many tricks in my bag, but screw it," he said, grinning as we exit the elevator.
"Oh, you know you don't have to impress me, I don't need to be constantly showered with attention and gifts," was my meek response. I didn't know what else to do but accept his generosity.
"But I do! It's all good stuff for a great life. Just keep your imagination rolling."
"Ooh, I don't even know. With you, it could be anything..."
"It's nice to have someone to care for. Thanks for that. I'm not trying to impress you. Honest. I'm very secure in myself."
In the apartment, A. unpacked a black box with gold embellishments. Inside was fancy Arabian perfume, the first bottle of many that he will gift to me due to it being his current special interest. The heavy vase-like bottle in its fancy box felt more expensive than my existence.
"I realize now why I got into my profession," he mentioned, bring the spray nozzle towards his nose. "It's the smells. I love smelling things, it's ridiculous. Isn't this one so juicy and luxurious?"
It smelled sweet, rich, and sophisticated. A scent-based time capsule of this particular weekend.
"But that's the first gift!" he declared, rushing towards another bag on the table.
I started laughing in disbelief and humbly accepted the next box, which was a camera for the future use of marketing and business since we spoke of it during our last weekend together. A present I still often use now for my videos and social media content for a writers' group I help organize.
At this point, I remember a Russian friend's statement during this early period of courtship between A. and I. Most of my friends, all met online, were surprised, delighted, and horrified when I told them about my weekend spent with this older wealthy Russian man who's practically a stranger two weeks prior. But I assured them that I was fine, and that I was happy.
Those who reacted well, were happy for me - others were slightly demeaning or downright xenophobic. It was of course 2022, the first year of the Russo-Ukrainian war. Nobody liked Russians and everyone was on guard.
My Russian friend said, in regards to my opinions on dating:
"Легко тебе сказать, все 40-летние за тобой гоняются!" he typed.
"I'm too lazy to read this. It's 4am, what are you saying?!"
"It's easy for you to say (of dating), all 40-year-olds are chasing after you!"
"He's not chasing me, he's showering me with love and affection," I replied in earnest.
"It's called chasing, this is something that my father did, and I did too. It is Russian dating tradition to do it," he said in text, "I honestly need to stop doing that, since it rarely works."
"Well if he chased, he caught me fair and square."
"True, I hope he will not pressure you to do stuff you don't want."
I agreed. Thankfully, A. never did.
"Now... the small stuff's been given. This is the real gift for you," A. said as he entered the bedroom and came out with a small translucent brown vial, with a dropper inside.
I gasped, "That's the stuff?"
"Got it from Wyoming, a guy named Frankie. Made in a lab. I have enough to last a lifetime," he said, excited. "I think it would be good to do it tomorrow morning."
Eating Croatia
I don't remember much of the day from before I took the acid. I remembered it had a quaint, lighthearted air. We might or might not have had eaten breakfast.
"Three drops," A. said, "It'll hit you within an hour or so."
I was recommended to have a notebook and a pen with me, and I sat by the balcony. Okay, so an hour to kill. I breathed deeply and closed my eyes, something I realize now to be an intuitive quirk. I relaxed my muscles, I placed my focus on ideas for The Afterdeath. Entering a meditative state has helped in conquering the potential bumpy beginnings of an acid trip.
Often the images in my head are quite clear, and I think in cinematic sequences. This is the reason why it was often difficult to make sense of the stories I write, because they were all sequences without a given meaning but imbued with symbolism. Symbolism for what? The answer to that will take more time and psychedelic trips for me to truly understand.
Before, I had to bash my head in to understand the ideas behind the scenarios through research and development. I wasn't an "architect" or a "gardener", but instead treasure hunter. I uncover what is already there, waiting for me.
As I closed my eyes, I imagined a scene of the three main characters of my graphic novel. They were in the Karelian forest, moving vividly against a dramatic sky shrouded by tall trees. As I imagined the scene, I noticed the characters in my mind's eye were moving without me "clicking the play button" or without my own effort.
I opened my eyes, and checked my phone. Only twenty minutes have passed since I taken the drops. I started feeling funny, and the buildings outside from my view began to buzz as though they were made of static. I began to laugh.
"It must be happening now," I told myself, and rushed into the apartment. My giggling fits alerted A. - he stood from the couch and exclaimed, "Wow, really? So soon! Sit down, I'll get the food."
As he disappeared from sight, I was having what felt like the biggest panic attack of my life. This is what I, in the future, refer to as the melting of the ego. I breathed deeply, laughing uncontrollably, and braced myself on the couch as if the earth was shaking beneath me.
I breathed and breathed and breathed, keeping my eyes closed.
In my mind's eye, I began to see a dimension never before witnessed inside my head. Darkness was replaced with iridescent greens and pinks, and there were giant spires made of strange circus vehicles with human faces. It was like Disney's Aladdin, but of course - on acid.
I saw other funny images, like a purple giraffe with a chrome head. I laughed and shook, it felt as though A. had been gone for a lifetime. Feeling around the couch for my phone, I typed to my friends on Discord because I felt I needed an anchor. I would be sucked into a whirlpool of chaos otherwise.
I began raving about Croatia.
A Thousand Wings
But finally, A. burst through the door carrying bags with salmon, salads, fruits, soups, and bread. Putting the food down, he checked up on me, asking, "How are you feeling? You want music?"
"Yes!" I screamed, still closing my eyes. He led me to the bedroom where it was darker, and gave me his phone. The music played...
Sweet, sweet Mozart.
Mozart: Symphony No. 31 in D, K.297 "Paris" - 1. Allegro assai.
As the symphony went on, I began to see the chaotic images inside my mind align and unite like a troupe of dancers. They became more abstract and less ridiculous, shaping into blades and feathers.
And once the climax of the symphony hit, I was witnessing the shapes creating a structure of a giant crow made of a thousand feathers that vibrated with light and energy.
It was God, and a feeling of assurance and comfort overwhelmed me. I was safe now, the countless lonely nights of tears and sadness are over. The yearning and silent calls for help were finally answered, I was nestled in the arms of the Divine like a child soothed after a frightful storm.
Everything that happened, the traumatic past, the struggle against pain and suffering has led to this. I could finally rest easy, and so I cried. My tears were of joy, relief, and humility. The bedroom door swung open, the Hour has arrived and A. shouted excitedly, "My baby's going to be famous!"
We embraced and cried in each other's arms. He was feeling the acid too by now.
"I always cry from this piece (the Mozart)," A. said, wiping away the tears, "I've shown it to so many people. Not everyone gets it, but you do."
"I lied to you," he added, "My name isn't A. - it's Sasha. A. is just my American name, a made up identity, but Sasha is my real name."
We curled up in bed, while he recounted his family's journey to America. The fact his mother was strangled to death by a lover, and his father was a sociopath. All good tales to share on the second date, of course. Nothing is real, he said, but it's nice to think about my mother.
Once we regained our composure, with the acid still running in our system, we ate the food he had bought for us. Then, we went up to the roof and I laid down in a sunlounge chair and stared at the sky through a pair of sunglasses. The trees down below were dancing, as were the clouds in the sky. My witnessing of the fractal structure during this very first trip was not as refined as later trips but it was a good indicator of what was to come.
Drunk on God
In Sufism, there is much written and discussed about the "drunkenness" from embracing Divinity. To be so heavily engrossed in the unity of God, that you essentially drown yourself and become drunk of the experience.
I believe that this "drunkenness" is part of the first stages of the psychedelic experience. The deeper you go, the less "silly" the imagery and ideas become as you experience a type of sobriety while fully embracing the oneness of the psychedelic experience.
From Knowledge of God, by Shaykh al-Alawi (Algerian Sufi):
But the intellect of beginners, meaning majdhoubs, is in a state of drunkenness ... the perfect ones, their inward is with the people of drunkenness and their outward is with the people of sobriety.
That night, we watched the World Cup. I read through my messages on Discord, and chuckled. Croatia did win the 2022 match against Brazil.
So perhaps I will marry.