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		 &lt;td width=&quot;90&quot; align=&quot;right&quot;&gt;DOSE:&lt;br&gt;&lt;/td&gt;
		 &lt;td width=&quot;90&quot; class=&quot;dosechart-amount&quot; align=&quot;center&quot;&gt;4 hits&lt;/td&gt;
		 &lt;td class=&quot;dosechart-method&quot; align=&quot;center&quot;&gt;oral&lt;/td&gt;
		 &lt;td class=&quot;dosechart-substance&quot;&gt;&lt;a href=&quot;/chemicals/lsd/&quot;&gt;LSD&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/td&gt;
		 &lt;td class=&quot;dosechart-form&quot;&gt;&lt;b&gt;(blotter / tab)&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/td&gt;
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		 &lt;td width=&quot;90&quot; align=&quot;right&quot;&gt; &lt;/td&gt;
		 &lt;td width=&quot;90&quot; class=&quot;dosechart-amount&quot; align=&quot;center&quot;&gt;  &lt;/td&gt;
		 &lt;td class=&quot;dosechart-method&quot; align=&quot;center&quot;&gt;smoked&lt;/td&gt;
		 &lt;td class=&quot;dosechart-substance&quot;&gt;&lt;a href=&quot;/plants/cannabis/&quot;&gt;Cannabis&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/td&gt;
		 &lt;td class=&quot;dosechart-form&quot;&gt;&lt;b&gt;(plant material)&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/td&gt;
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&lt;!-- Start Body --&gt;
When I was in second or third grade, I saw a rerun of Dragnet, on Nick-at-Nite, that showed a party full of spaced-out, beatnik type kids, that wore berets and were tripping out on a wall. Though the intent of the episode was to illustrate the dangers of LSD, it only served to spark my initial intrigue with the drug, which I first began to experiment with in my mid-to-late teen years.
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My first few trips were rather superficial, most producing only a body high and mild visuals. I soon met my now best friend, *B*, and we hit it off.  Our first trip together was alone, and we discovered how compatible we were. We were able to communicate the indescribable through facial expressions, gestures, and one word sentences. We would sit knee to knee, starring so hard at each other that I felt our eyes might burst. Sometimes we talked; choppy fluctuant speech patterns, interweaving random thoughts or ideas into a larger and more ultimate picture of what we perceived to be &#x27;universal truth&#x27; (I must add that none of these ideas were ever verbalized in a logically structured or philosophical manner). At other times we said nothing at all. Acid was our common frame of reference, and the environment that moved us to bond.
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Several years and almost two-dozen trips later, a group of us were getting together to celebrate October 29th, for no reason other than boredom. A friend knew a guy who lived out of city limits, in an area where people minded their own business, and we all decided it would be the best place to hang out. I had never met this guy, but trusted my friend. He lived in a tiny mobile home, which was crowded with band equipment and other random junk. The guy was cool, and had really great pot. *B* and I dropped our acid shortly after arriving, 4 hits each, and than sold the other two to the guy&#x27;s sister, who left afterwards. *B* and I were the only ones there on anything other than weed and/or alcohol (which we didn&#x27;t drink).
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The beginning of my trip was normal. I began to get anxious, and felt a fluttering in my stomach. I knew it was going to come on like a whirlwind when it did. We both ran out of cigarettes, and decided to go to the store. Not being familiar with the area, a guy friend came along with us. The county roads don&#x27;t have many street lamps and my vision was constantly moving in and out of focus. I couldn&#x27;t see a thing and wasn&#x27;t really sure which direction we were headed in. This concerned me. I kept asking him if he was sure we were going the right way and he would only say, &#x27;Does it matter?&#x27; or &#x27;Do you care?&#x27; Anyway, we got cigarettes and got back to the trailer without incident, but our adventure had set a slightly paranoid theme in my mind. *B* and I were usually synchronized in our levels of awareness, and we both tried to click our minds into place, to dive into the trip as we always did, but with no success. I was taken off guard by this, because we used each other like a safety line, and it was at this point I began to &#x27;lose it.&#x27;
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The acid was much better than I expected, and I sensed that I was going to be immersed much deeper in my trip than I had ever been before, despite my trying to contain myself. Though I only remember flashes of what happened during my peak, which I estimate lasted about two to three hours, I&#x27;ve been told that I was rambling like a mad person and was becoming very unstable. They relocated me to the back of the trailer which served as a bedroom. I was there for most of my peaking hours, while my friends tried to calm me down, though most of the attention only intensified what I was experiencing. During this time I became claustrophobic and thrashed about, because I was being restrained. They coaxed me into lying down, at which time I concentrated on closed-eye visuals and eventually became less belligerent.
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I would like to say that causing a huge scene in a stranger&#x27;s house and putting my friends in a position of obligation to &#x27;baby-sit&#x27; me was the worst part of my night, but it wasn&#x27;t. After I snapped out of it, and began to realize the reality of the situation, I was sure that it was over. I wasn&#x27;t really embarrassed (yet), more disoriented than anything. I came out of the back room, looking at all of my friends. I lit a cigarette, and laughed. Someone handed me a pipe, I don&#x27;t remember who, but I remember that it helped break tension, almost like a gesture of consolation. I took a couple of really deep hits, and sat back on the couch. I looked at all of my friends, taking in the awkward moment. I was sure that I had ruined everyone&#x27;s night and was surprised I hadn&#x27;t been thrown out. Soon after this, I became aware of the fact that I was still tripping. Whether it was the weed, or that the acid hadn&#x27;t played out of my system completely, I don&#x27;t know. 
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All of the sudden I felt an overwhelming force pushing into me, felt like gravity had become ten times stronger. Breathing became a voluntary function, I had to remind myself to let air in and out, or else my lungs would collapse into space along with the rest of me. I felt like I was at my own funeral. Everyone&#x27;s eyes, red from drinking and smoking all night long, made them appear to be crying. I thought they were crying for me. A girlfriend of ours, *K*, noticed that I was once again &#x27;not okay&#x27; and tried to comfort me. *K* was small and skinny, with acne and sunken eyes. Her skin looked pallid and a sick yellow. There was a desperate look in her eyes when she talked to you. When I didn&#x27;t respond she became more persistent, certain that I was going to flip out again. I knew I wasn&#x27;t going to, and her nagging made me uncomfortable and agitated. I just looked into her, skeptical of her intentions. A black film slithered down over her eyes and I was convinced I was dying. In the background, Bob Dylan&#x27;s &#x27;Knockin&#x27; on Heaven&#x27;s Door&#x27; was playing, distorted by my state. She kept telling me it was &#x27;Okay. It&#x27;s okay. Everything is okay.&#x27; I felt my heart stopping. 
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In the back of my mind I saw myself fading out. I felt a cold stab of steel-like nothingness in the pit of my stomach, what I imagined death would feel like. Not the process of dying, but the actual state of not being. *K* was my grim reaper, and she was trying to convince me of my impending death and of it being the right action on my part. I wasn&#x27;t scared by this, more angry than anything. I tried to rationalize the feelings I was having towards her, but couldn&#x27;t. Finally, I stood up and told her to get the fuck away from me. She winced, hurt by what I said because in reality she was sincerely trying to make me feel better. *B* took me outside on the front porch, where we talked. I told her what happened from my perspective, then she filled me in on what I wasn&#x27;t &#x27;there&#x27; for. By this time all I wanted was to scrub myself with bleach, eat some carrots, and go to sleep. 
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When we got inside, there were people folded into every corner and crevice, sleeping. The sun coming up shown in through the windows, allowing my to see every bit of fuzz and litter and discoloration in the trailer. Everything twitched and crawled and made weird noises. I felt the urge to clean, but could only sit and stare and rub my palms on my jeans. The inactivity was tedious. My whole body fell asleep, except for my mind. I couldn&#x27;t stand looking at the room any longer. My eyes felt tired and stressed, from hours of being overworked. I felt my pupils bulging, even when my eyes were closed. When I tried to sleep (in an up right position due to lack of space) I could hear and feel every one of my bodily functions. The sounds of various liquids being processed and organs groaning. My bones felt crooked and weary. There is no way to describe how uncomfortable the room felt. Comet and a wire brush come to mind. This went on for hours, until everyone woke up, and drove *B* and I back to her house, where I had the best sleep of my life. The greatest feeling I ever felt was waking up from all of that insanity. And though it is the most horrifying thing that has ever happened to me, I&#x27;d do it again, for the sake of perspective. 
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For those inexperienced trippers, this story may not seem very scary, but keep in mind that, while I do my best, no words can possibly communicate the magnitude of the situation or the intensity of my feelings at the time. The biggest mistake I made in this situation was not being familiar with my environment. These types of drugs must be taken in a safe place where you&#x27;re not subject to accidents and where you are comfortable. Aesthetics play a major role in the overall tone of your experience. Second mistake was being with a large group of not-so-close friends. While this may not apply to every person or every trip, for the most part people would be wise to stick with those they know well and love. I had tripped around all but one of these people before, and never received any negative vibes. Which brings me to my third mistake. Do not assume anything. Every hit effects various people in different ways. Be cautious and know your supplier. Talk to others who have tried the particular batch you&#x27;re considering and compare stories. The most important thing I learned is that when dealing with hallucinogenics I should definitely use them respectfully, with a right and clear mind, and in moderation. I have since quit using acid and all other synthetic properties.&lt;!-- End Body --&gt;
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&lt;table border=&quot;0&quot; cellpadding=&quot;5&quot; cellspacing=&quot;0&quot; class=&quot;footdata&quot;&gt;
&lt;tr&gt;&lt;td width=&quot;700&quot;&gt;Exp Year: 1999&lt;/td&gt;&lt;td width=&quot;90&quot;&gt;ExpID: 21466&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;
&lt;tr&gt;&lt;td&gt;Gender: Female&lt;/td&gt;&lt;td&gt; &lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;
&lt;tr&gt;&lt;td&gt;Age at time of experience: Not Given&lt;/td&gt;&lt;td&gt; &lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;
&lt;tr&gt;&lt;td&gt;Published: Dec 14, 2005&lt;/td&gt;&lt;td&gt;Views: 41,023&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;
&lt;tr&gt;&lt;td colspan=&quot;2&quot; align=&quot;center&quot;&gt;[ &lt;a href=&quot;exp.php?ID=21466&amp;amp;format=pdf&quot; type=&quot;text/pdf&quot;&gt;View as PDF (for printing)&lt;/a&gt; ] [ &lt;a href=&quot;exp_pdf.php?ID=21466&amp;amp;format=latex&quot;&gt;View as LaTeX (for geeks)&lt;/a&gt; ]
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&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;
&lt;tr&gt;&lt;td colspan=&quot;2&quot;&gt;LSD (2) : Small Group (2-9) (17), Bad Trips (6)&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;
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