As I am mostly over being sick, there’s little excuse for not having written SOMETHING about every night’s dreams, whether merely a feeling, emotion, image, symbol, etc., etc.
But there is something inherently easy about forgetting what we dream. Likewise, with the large, spore covered, and punishing mushrooms that I have had this last season, I have had more revelations and terror worth discussing.
I recently was attempting to explain how, while at the peak of my Dream Work, I would’ve PRAYED for Sleep Paralysis, as it’s the easiest jumping off point into Lucid Dreaming one can get. In the past, I have “woken up” (I personally view Sleep Paralysis as a temporary form of Psychosis, or “Waking Nightmare”, caused by a misunderstanding/mixed signal from the brain to the body), not able to move, and simply closed my eyes, breathed calmly, and imagined drifting into another dream, this time fully aware that I was asleep.
Once, in between Dream Work, having let the active Lucid Dreaming fall by the wayside, I had this happen, and was attempting to call out or make noise to wake myself. THIS IS WHAT NOT TO DO. Not being able to speak OR move, typically adds to the terror.
But I was somewhat prepared this time, having just recently attempted to comfort someone who suffers from Sleep Paralysis and confrontations with the “Fear Eaters” or Shadow People. I had a sneaking suspicion that by merely discussing it, I would end up causing such an occurrence, and sure enough, a night or two later, it happened.
I woke up in the pitch black of my room (possibly darker than it truly is, if I’m being honest). My right arm was half on and off the bed (and as any child knows, boogeymen LOVE dangling arms and feet, right?), and I could not move. The room was too dark to actually SEE anything, but I knew something was in the darkness, slowly advancing. Instead, I called upon an OLD friend.
One Shadow I had overcome ages ago and have used every since in my Dream Work when need be, is good ol’ Freddy Krueger. I thought to myself, “Well maybe I’m the thing that IT should be afraid of,” and I imagined Freddy’s glove on my right hand. Soon I was wiggling my hand’s fingers, and began chuckling cruelly in the dark. When I looked up, I saw flashes of light instead of an explicit entity, and the Apple logo flashed in and out of my eyes (and no, it wasn’t my computer or phone). And then I was in the dark, alone, and able to roll over and fall back to sleep.
WHATEVER HAPPENED TO THE TEENAGE DREAM?
I dreamed several nights ago, that two girls were talking with me while I was on the computer. The one, I wasn’t interested in (it felt like they were an ex), but the other was different and not similar to an ex of mine at all.
I’m uncertain now what we were discussing, but something provoked them to realize that I became curious about A girl and entered a search term to find out more about A girl. They didn’t know that the girl I was “Handle Searching” was my possible ex’s friend, but they were determined to grab my computer and see who it was that I was possibly interested in and searching for information on. Unable to hide the entire computer itself, I closed out the window, and unplugged my keyboard. They tried to grab it from me, but somehow they eventually realized they didn’t need the keyboard to see my previous search (can’t quite remember how they pulled that off).
From the other room, I heard, “Awwwwww!” And I just shook my head and laughed.
LAUREL AND HARDY
But not really.
I dreamed that I was grocery shopping, only needing a few things, and upon finishing, I couldn’t find my car. A heavy-set guy and a taller, skinnier guy, were kind enough to drive me around the parking lot to find it. One noticed I had grown nervous due to the other’s driving. I acknowledged that I have always had an issue with being a passenger, not knowing if whoever’s driving would be speeding up and slowing down upon approaching yellow lights or while other cars were approaching.
I woke up, and remembered this truism I have, concerning a lack of trust (too many times I have shouted and warned someone to stop, and sure enough, they would have blown through a red light while cars were coming, etc.). Every once in awhile, I even feel this antsy, twisting in my stomach when I’m driving. The anticipation of not knowing is generally what evokes it, “Will they/won’t they?!”
Of course everyone has a fear of loss of control.
STRONG psilocybin doses (generally 5g and above) give me the same sensation of being in a rollercoaster, slowly clinkity-clankitying up the tracks. The anticipation is what mortifies me. I enjoy a good clean rollercoaster! But I despise that anticipation.
The other day, I thought, well… I had enough for another “Heroic Dose”, but have decided the next time I attempt 5g or more, it will be on mushrooms *I* grow myself, as part of the fear is the worrying that these may somehow be poisoned (though I always wake up the next day feeling relatively fine). But the FEAR of not knowing adds to the experience.
THE CONTINUING ADVENTURES OF A PSYCHONAUT
So I figured I’d eat one small stem, with a tiny blast of cannabis. I listened to my own music from over the years, and had a minor revelation. I was unable to listen to a single song and not hear that I was somehow writing and singing TO myself. “But this song was about so-and-son,” nope, it was about you. “But this one was written because of,” errnt, wrong again, they were somehow ALL about me.
My imagination was in HD. I saw a dark, Tron-like realm in my mind, where the Black Knight (a variation of myself), adorned in slick, black clothing with neon yellow stripes here and there, down the pant legs, lining the collar, and so on. This version of me was clearly hyper-intelligent and had it all figured out.
I asked, “So then who is the Black King?”
“Saturn,” I replied, without missing a beat.
“Oh… but wait…” he shushed me and continued pointing out the lessons in my own words to myself. This was clearly the mushrooms, heavily muted by the low dose. Whereas the first time on these particular mushrooms, I was having open eye visuals of similar digital lights, showering me in symbols and imagery, this time it was “merely” my imagination, but ramped up.
He then smiled and turned to me, “I love you. Do you understand? You are never alone. I love you.” I giggled a little bit to myself. This was weird, but I was okay with it.
Then I saw I was up until 2am, listening to my own thoughts in my head for hours.
AND THEN HE DID MORE
The problem with the above is, it gave me a false sense of security. So a few nights later, I decided to do two stems. At least one had a cap on it, however. I have done nearly 3 grams before the Heroic Dose at the end of last year, and had open eye visuals (though I hadn’t done them alone, in the dark, in silence). I had done less than 2 grams and gone to Disney World alone, for crying out loud. I could surely take two small stems and a small cap without a problem…
I meditated for 30 minutes, alone, in the dark, in silence, other than repeating, “I am the Oneironeer. I am the controller of dreams, and I give myself willingly and quietly to your instruction.” I did breathing exercises, and waited patiently, thinking nothing was likely to even happen.
And then I saw a single light, shining from what looked like a distance of a mile away, but approaching. Then I heard those constricting, creaking and flowing sounds and, dare I say, music. Like a vibrational hymn/hum, slowly melting down on my head and neck. I will never again do mushrooms inside of a closet. It’s too claustrophobic (even though I generally don’t have a problem sleeping in closets or meditating within the darkness of them — in fact, my previous “Sleep Chamber” was a walk-in closet). It becomes too… sinister.
I could almost feel the presence being amused at my previous mantra. I wasn’t trying to brag, I was just introducing myself and admitting, hey, usually I get to be in control of such things, but I give myself willingly… and then I chickened out and once again had to get up OUT of there!
I was determined not to text or visit with my room mate like I had to on the 5 grams. I did, however, asked if he’d mind if I walked his dog. It was freezing cold out, and I was hoping the cold, fresh air would help with the sudden tightness I was feeling from this mushroom once again barreling down on me. It helped, but it was too cold. I tried several times to vomit them up. I drank two bottles of water and tickled the back of my throat with my finger, to no avail. I’d gag, choke, get a rush, and feel a little better for a second, but had absolutely NO upset stomach. It was caste-iron, and promised to stay with me for the next 6 hours.
“I can’t!” I thought. “I can NOT feel like this for 6 hours, Holy God!”
This mushroom causes flu-like shakes, as if you’re trying to warm yourself up. So I tried embracing that. I took off some of my layers and got under the covers and tried watching something seemingly carefree. “The Toys That Made Us” on Netflix seemed about as harmless as a program could get. People just kept repeating the same phrases and it was impossible to follow. I was confused as to why I was watching a wink-wink, nudge-nudge, isn’t Star Wars so popular, special. The music began warbling behind some of the most unpleasant speaking/sounding people talking about stuff I couldn’t give two shits about or even understand. How the hell could the music be warbling?! That’s some next level shit! That’s only happened on the 5 grams! I’m pretty certain that, to some extent, this was becoming a trip informed and greatly enhanced by the PTSD from the experience of the 5 grams. If I had to guess, I had maybe 1.5 grams, less than the first night (which was just under 2 grams, and I hadn’t lost my mind in terror).
But there I was, texting a friend in another state, “Hey, mind if I call?” He seemed hesitant, but it was more than likely because he’d been going through a lot of problems and ordeals of his own, and was probably wanting to be left alone and feel sad. He said it wasn’t a good time, but then paused and asked…
“Wait, unless you really need to talk?” I said yeah, I kind of did, but then thought of all the things he was likely about to drop on me while I was in this sorry state. Maybe this wasn’t a good idea. Could I pass this off as just a normal phone call and just talk with something to keep my fears at bay?
“Nah, it’s okay, I’m sorry if I bothered you,” and the phone began ringing.
We talked for a short while and he began unloading and I stopped him for a second.
“I’ve got to confess, I tried doing a little bit of those mushrooms I told you about, and I was wondering if you could just talk me down a little?”
My buddy is an experienced psychonaut, but I think it’s safe to say that even he would admit he’s gotten “lost in the sun” a few too many times. If things were ever “all there”, he hadn’t been 100% in the entire time that I’ve known him, so I was still worried that this was a bad idea.
“Hey, hold on tight,” he said, and I became calm. “To the string of your kite.” I knew he’d have to make this weird, but it still somehow worked.
I joked, “Hey, you got any more of that hold on tight to the strong if your kite stuff?”
We talked for an hour, and he opened his heart up to me about the stuff he had been going through, and I’d have to occasionally reel him in when it became too hard for me. I was giving Shamanic/psychological advice that I would never have been able to give straight, as I’d have gotten too short with him.
At one point I said, “Buddy, this world is dark, and it’s cruel, and even though we’re hundreds of miles away, there’s something comforting in knowing that your unique light is out there in that darkness still shining. It’s one of the few beacons I can still look out to and feel buoyed, and it would be crippling to me if anything snuffed out that light.”
He began crying and thanking me so much. He knew that if he were with me, he’d have had the rest of the mushrooms and we’d have laughed, cried, hugged and despite it, he said he could feel the heart-connection and showed appreciation for my friendship.
Finally, he did have to go and finish up some chores, but I was feeling a little better. I wasn’t in the clear yet, but I had a lot to think about. Things I had brought up to him were revelatory concerning my own life. One thought struck me and I began crying hard.
Finally, when I was feeling a little better, it dawned on me. I needed some Andrew W.K. Though songs like “Get Ready to Die” or “Long Live the Party” seem counter-intuitive, the man’s sheer, guru meets mentally disabled, passion, could blast through anything. I sat up in bed, snuggled with pillows and let AWK disintegrate the fears. Soon the volume and intensity became a bit too much, so I listened to soft, soothing Bossa Nova music and lulled myself into virtual sleep, as the 5 hour mark approached, and I felt safe to turn off the lights and go to sleep.
SO BACK TO LAUREL AND HARDY
I felt that I may have ruined this kind of inner-exploration for myself, due to my failed Heroic Dose, and would now have to live in fear. Before I had even finished, I knew that I would be taking the last (huge) stem and cap (with a barely opened veil, and I’m experienced enough to know what that shit means — it means it has psilocybin and spores COURSING through it, as none shot out to seed the ground or surrounding mycelium) OUT of the the trash, where I had placed them in it’s bag.
It won’t be causal, this mushroom doesn’t know the meaning of the word “recreational”. There’s no “fun” with this batch. And I’m convinced if I ate this last remaining mushroom, it would be somewhere between this last experience and my previous Heroic Dose. In other words, I would be seeing and hearing the entity(s) that this mushroom would be bringing, whether they be my own inner psyche, The Higher Self, dissociative identity disorder brought on by the psilocybin, an alien intelligence, or WHAT HAVE YOU.
But my dream last night did give me hints. My fear of the *anticipation* is a HUGE part of setting the mood for what follows. The first time I took almost 2 grams of these, my previous, harmless experiences had informed my trip. When I waited and felt it come on without a deep meditation (in fact, I was watching YouTube clips before I decided to sit in the closet the first time), It was like walking into an amusement park ride. Sure it was still the Tower of Terror, but there was none of the rollercoaster like ramping up and up and up. That anticipation is what kills me and ruins the entire trip.
So, I’ll either split this with my buddy the next time I see him, or I simply won’t do these alone, in the dark, in silence. Then, once I’ve made my own again, knowing they’re safe as can be, and I’ve recreationally done maybe 2 grams with a buddy, then and only with a trip sitter at the ready, will I dare another Heroic Dose. And I will likely do 7 grams so there’s NO slamming on the breaks, like I tried with the 5 grams.
I know the point is to “lose all sense of self and the illusion of control”, but up until that point, I need to have more control over the set and setting.