Done weed 44 times. This is my trip report on last night:
Mothership
By Paul
Time was 5:36 PM. I put my head back, and enjoyed my numbed mind. I was put at ease, no worries with life as I know it. It was like my mind had been cracked open and the juices were leaking everywhere. My mind was a glass cup, and something had shattered it and spilled all of my memory fluids out. I have been wondering where I was going in life prior to my experience on the 5th trip to Dimension X. I was depressed every night of the week, thinking of the same hopeless thoughts of love that ran over my mind over and over again. I tried shutting out my depression by shutting out people that were vital to me. It only made it so much worse. My future was a total mystery and I had not a single thought of what I wanted to be. I was stuck in my own twisted version of reality while I was living in it. The only times when I was happy was sometimes during the lunch hours in school and hanging out with one of my best friends, which was where I was at in the time speaking. It was pressing against me; the thought of being a nobody, the thought of having no one to love, the thought of my demise being my messiah. Rarely did I have nights where things were happy go-lucky and the skies were raining gum drops. Instead, my nights were built around being an anti-social loser, slacker, and getting stuck in writer's block constantly. The only thing that I could channel my emotional urges into was my guitar. I played the blues everyday, making up random guitar parts with improvisation. It was a style that allowed me to be as sad as I had wanted, with no one to gently weep except my guitar.
Ignition. I had smoked a really fat bowl of weed, and put the bong away on a shelf. My vision kept getting the best of me. What I saw was all fake. Nothing and no one was real. My hopes and dreams were just tiny little details in the bigger universe. In a way, I died. The only thing that existed was my vision, my mind, and something else entirely. An hour after my initial bowl, things were getting really edgy for me. You could say I was the edge of a knife, and everyone else was the blade. I could determine what was real and important to me, and what wasn't. It was all and always has been my choice. Free will. Such beautiful words that gives me my power back. Unfortunately, I didn't realize this during my trip. I laid down on a couch nearby, to try to settle down from the warping of reality that was happening all around me. Everything had begun to twist a little clockwise, and that drove me off the edge of the blade.
Smash. I was tired of being tricked and fooled into Dimension X being real, so I got up and behind the drum kit. With all my rage, depression, speed, and accuracy, I smashed the drum kit as hard as I could. Every hit had a monster crash sound to it. If the snare, toms, hi hat, and crash were all people's heads, then I could really say that I killed them 1000 times over with the drum sticks I was carrying. Seriously, I led a drum solo for over 20 minutes. Never had I gotten tired though, I would have played all night if I was allowed to. But something was stirring, something totally sinister, unreal, and deadly at the same time. I could not tell what, but I had a funny feeling about all of this.
Bends. As soon as I moved my body back from the drum kit, I hit a brick wall. Not a fake one, but a real one. However, this was the biggest mistake I have ever made during Dimension X. When my hand touched the painted brick wall, all sorts of evil flooded my mind like an empty river being replenished with plentiful of water from a lake. I saw evil, in it's most pure, uncensored version. The hurt, the fear, the pain. All of them rushed past me in a sudden burst of energy. No longer was I a little boy running around in free movement. I was being shot with millions of dangerous possibilities. A mental shotgun slug to my face. I threw my hand away from the wall. I had stopped breathing for a little bit, and I gasped for air. I probably would have killed myself from lack of oxygen if I had not stopped holding on to the wall. I was playing with fire.
I am the ocean. After nearly exhausting myself out of air, I figured it was a good time to stop making noise and sit back down on the black bed. I rose very carefully out of my seat and walked with a slow pace back onto the bed. I had never felt as free as I did when I laid my arms out on the cushion. My arms became oceans. In very slow motion, I took my right hand to the left side of my face and pulled down towards the bed. At that instant, my hand became a giant wave of water in a vast ocean. The trail and blur of my hand had convinced me. I pulled and ripped my face into the ocean, and my face had become the sea's face. I saw the glorious ocean waves I had become on a somber summer sunset. I was beautiful at last.
Enter at your own risk. I threw my dead weight body onto the couch, away from the bed. As I laid down, I saw the Rock Band drum set turn into the very sinister being I had imagined earlier on in the room with the drum kit. Enter Mothership, the most vile, evil, and dangerous being that ever existed. My friend's face was in the center of it's eye. It was talking to me in nonsensical jargon. Maybe there was different languages in Dimension X? Anyway I did not understand what this alien being was saying. It looked like a piece of the moon had broken off and met some extraterrestrial parasite that controlled it's moon craters with it's orange eyes. It fired missiles, missiles that were made out of me. I had become the missiles, I was a weapon of mass destruction. I was a play toy, controlled by the Mothership. I was a peasant, my master the Mothership. I was a slave to Dimension X. Paul was dead. It was at this time that my friend had done the right thing and got me sitting straight up on the couch.
Canyon. I tried to recollect my spilled thoughts and memories, and I had made another mistake of looking at my friend's face. He was comfortably cradled in an armchair. Instead of sitting normally, he sat like one would sit in a hammock, in the armchair. His body became a canyon, in the armchair. His face reminded me of a wolf, his eyes became purely black. His mouth, black. Since Dimension X really loved torturing me, it convinced me that my friend's eyebrows were a lot bigger in proportion to his dark eyes. He had jagged, killing teeth in the same size as a human's mouth. My friend's face was the side of a canyon. God, it frightened me so much that I just kept rambling on and on about it in gibberish. My words turned into incoherent, boring, and slurred garbage.
Passion. I rose from my seat, and went back into the room with the drum kit. I ignored the drums, but took my guitar and started playing. Coincidentally, I played quite proficiently because everything had slowed down by a mile, and my coordination in slow motion had increased in real time and this translated into very very fast playing with a busy picking hand. Another one of my friends had stepped into the same room I was in and asked me about how long I had been playing for. I answered honestly, only 2 years. I admired her knowledge of music, especially when she played Fur Elise on a nearby piano. I started playing Sunshine Of Your Love by Cream, at least the main rhythm. One of my favorite guitar riffs of all time, and it sounded way better since I was stoned off the planet. I started the guitar riff and kept it playing after a few bars, then I moved into D minor pentatonic scale and improvised as much as I could. I played with such passion I never felt before. When I was done soloing, I moved back into the main riff and ended the half-song. She said I was very good, and I got very giddy and happy that someone acknowledged my ability. It was a great feeling knowing someone at least thought I was decent on guitar. As soon as this registered in my mind, I began the march.
Turkish March. Actually ca
