The reflection of the light on the road signs were beginning to starburst. And light flares sparkled all over the road. Psilocybin is not a fickle drug. It does get weird, though. We cruised along the road at 60 mph. Completely dark except for the headlights. It felt like being in a warp tunnel. The mushrooms had been stashed away for a few weeks, just waiting for this specific occasion. “They better be good!” I remember saying when the call came in, $60 for 4 grams was pretty steep.We got 8 grams. We were on a mission. Load up on Pot, Booze, and Psychedelics. Haul ass out to the desert and spend the rest of the night fireside contemplating life or some such shit. Did we need to be fucked up? Probably not? Sometimes you need to separate the ego from the self when dealing with Important matters
EDITORS NOTE: This story is complete bullshit and should be regarded as such. The Places, Names and for that matter the story is intirely made up fiction
Getting close to our spot, we broke out more of the mushrooms. I quickly stuffed them in my mouth. I was already starting to get light tracers and weird apparitions out of the corners of my eyes. I thought, “what the hell! We’re taking this trip all the way to the end.” Judy was taking her time eating them one at a time; in about five-minute intervals. Which method was the correct method? Who Knows? I had been disappointed one too many times with subpar or weak responses to mushrooms. We’re looking for something! We’re fully committed! We wouldn’t take a no from the grand ol’ universe this time! “Give us answers!” I thought. Maybe we were knocking on the sky and listening to the sound to quote a Buddhism.
After some guessing, we found our exit out onto the dry lake bed. Reminiscent of the salt flats just made of sand. It holds a special significance to our little desert rat tribe. To put it in a poetic sense. It had just the right vibrations. By this time; I was on my first wave of the trip. Mildly unnerving driving across what amounts to a blank canvas in the middle of the night. No roads, no tracks, no landmarks. Just flat open driving. The whole world existed in the beams of our headlights. “Think this is far enough?” I said aloud.”Maybe a little farther.” Judy shouted out over the wind sound coming in from the open windows. Like a dog circling in place finding the ideal location to lay, we drove around for a second and settled on a spot. We Quickly dug a hole for the fire, and we shoved all the stuff out of the back of the old Toyota. We had a short discussion, deciding to sleep next to the fire, then got classic 60’s going on the speaker. Yeah, we’re original like that.
The last and final serving of the night. I put the last of the mushrooms in the grinder and added them to some boiling water. I had read earlier that making them into tea makes the effects stronger and staves off any nausea. I must have been in between waves because I felt fairly sober. It took about 15-20 minutes to extract the goods from the mushrooms by boiling them, so I went and sat next to Judy. We did a tarot card reading. I honestly can’t remember the card I drew. I don’t remember the card being a bad one or a good one, for that matter. It wasn’t easy to focus on it anyway. I got up and checked on the tea. “All ready!” I said and drank mine down pretty quick for how hot it was. 20 minutes after finishing the tea, the locks clicked in “please remain seated at all times while the ride is in motion.”
Up until this point, I hadn’t had any outright hallucinations. Things, however, were heating up, and I began to notice the object’s jumping location, like the fire jumping from one place to about 4 feet to the right. It wasn’t too disorienting. The walls weren’t melting or anything. This, I thought, would be an introspective trip. With the empty, dry lake bed being so barren, our whole world was squeezed down to inside the reach of the firelight. I began having flashbacks. The feeling of having to keep watch just like we did over there. In Iraq and Afghanistan. Endless hours spent watching the desert no movement, no people, nothing. I think the dogs noticed. They seemed on high alert as well. Most likely taking cues from me. I’m sure I relate to dogs better than people because we had sort of a roving guard schedule for the rest of the night. One of the dogs would get up and circle the camp for about 10 or 15 minutes. Then I would do the same, and then the other dog would take up his post after I was done.
“Come sit down with me,” Judy said; I think she noticed my restlessness. She said, “relax.” I told her I needed to be settled first. I want to be settled. This sentiment perplexed her. Then again, at this point, everything was perplexing. Judy was on her own trip. Bundled in the blankets laying on top of the sleeping pads. She was experiencing her own visions. “It looks like your whole beard is made of smoke,” she said, giggling. Our attention turned to roasting marshmallows over the fire. A comical conversation ensued as Judy lost her shit over a melted marshmallow dripping all over her face and hands. This, combined with our conversation’s philosophical nature, amounted to about a zero on the intellectual scale. Just a couple of dusty punks laughing hysterically. High off their ass’s out in the desert. She did have a point, though. I needed to lay down and start to settle myself, probably, so I could sleep.
After another round of checking the perimeter, I climbed into the sleeping bag with Judy. My suspicions were correct. Once In the sleeping bag, I wouldn’t want to get out. All night long, I had been telling her when she asked me to come to lay down. “No way it’s a trap, your trying to lure me into the deep depths with your siren song.” It was true. I no longer wanted to get up but had to get up a few more times to see what the dogs were barking at and to take a piss.
Judy finally fell asleep. My mind was running wild I knew there was no way I would fall asleep. the upside to all this was I watched the night sky for several hours, counting shooting stars—the downside. I kept hearing someone talk, a woman. I don’t know who. We were miles from any other human soul. I still feel haunted by that. I am curious about what I was hearing. I couldn’t make out what the voice was saying—just unintelligible mumbling.
I opened my eyes; the sun was beating down. It was already late in the morning, and I felt like I had been run over by a truck. I searched my memory, trying to recall all the nonsense from the night. Just a few memories stick out. Judy sturred from sleep, and we had our morning coffee. It took a minute to find the motivation to throw all our shit back in the truck. It also took some convincing on Judys end to keep me from shooting the gun. What can I say? I like the explosions and chaos it produces. We got in the Toyota, did a dog count, pointed the truck south, and headed home.
Now what. Some two days later. I am still working out what exactly we were trying to accomplish. Judy tells me I have to let go and let my mind accept the trip or some other hippie shit. I tell her, “It has to defeat me. I’m not just gonna let it win. It must wash over me.” She doesn’t get it, but that’s ok. She was still there, and we took the trip together. Did we go on some cosmic journey? Probably not? What did we come away with? Well, I’d say I was forced to confront some painful memories that I thought I had put away a long time ago, and Judy? Judy gained a better perspective of me, I suppose. So, mission accomplished!