“How many of these drops must I take just to help me sleep a bit better?” I ask the mert.
“Three to five drops only.”
“Thanks.” I say and put the cannabis oil in my bag.
After going up to 8 drops with no effect, I started getting suspicious. “That crook! There’s probably no zol in those drops! For all I know she is selling me Borstol Lewensessens drops.” I do some research on internet and see I have been taking them wrongly. You are not supposed to put the drops in your loopdop, but put the drops under your tongue and hold it down for a minute. Many benefits, including helping with slepp problems, anxiety and pain, have been reported.
I open my mouth, but as I can’t see how many drops are coming out, I simply shake the bottle a few times, hold my tongue down and swallow.
I wake up 2 hours later on the floor in the toilet, staring intently at the ceiling.
“How did I get here? Why is everything green? And sparkly?”
I can feel my heart beating irregularly. I can hear myself breathing.
“Am I dead? We are in the matrix, I knew it!”
As a noise from real life interrupts the odd universe of the hallucinogenic you can temporarily take a gulp of reality before the drug takes you back in.
“Why can I not move? I am totally paralysed. I must have had a stroke.”
By careful deduction and interrogating the 3 others of me who had now joined in the passage. I concluded it must have been the dagga.
“How much lewensessens did I take?” I start laughing at my folly. If I am on a trip I might as well enjoy it. I look at the patterns in the sky. Some horses made of stars dance in a carousel configuration. There is a dark forest and I become aware of the rain.
It takes me 20 minutes to turn around like a tortoise, sit on my haunches with my arms in front of me. At some stage, my pants came off for a while. I cannot deal with that now. I put my arms on the floor, like when you pray for Allah and slowly shuffle forward. on the and slowly shuffling forwards, kaalgat pointing to poor Jesus, looking up every now and again so you don’t bump into a wall. Getting up is impossible and anything requiring muscle strength you can forget about. At some stage my pants come off and park just above the knee. I can’t worry about that now. I am dying of thirst. I see a sparkly blue bottle of water on the table 4 metres away and become bloodthirsty. A wave of tremors come over my body, I start sweating profusely and my heart palpitates. Then it’s gone and a great warmth comes across me. I set out for the water bottle and reach my destination an hour later. Alas, I cannot reach the top of the table because I am basically paralatyc. I head out for the cat’s bowl. “Fokof Grysiet’ say to the cat and drink thirstily. Crumbs of cat food and dead flies are the least of your worries when giant dinosaurs are galloping on hallucinogenic stage.
Ghoefed, I flopped again the wall and watched the show. It basically feels like you are dreaming while you are awake. Time is not linear. The pictures don’t necessarily tell a story. Many people experience euphoric feelings. I did not. To be honest, I was bored. I thought they could have done more with the art direction. I would’ve put more colour. And frankly, those dancing horses. It was clear they were just lights on a giant stage, not actual star horses. I didn’t feel like one with the universe. I was looking in. And the show the universe was putting on was silly.
Other people say they face their demons or find that an important message or lesson awaits you if you look at it. I tried. I looked at the images again to find a message. I even re-arranged some visions to see if there was a message, but all I got was gibberish. I was three feet higher than God at that stage, but felt so low.
Maybe my demons will come and face me and at least I would have achieved something with the trip, ‘Bring my demons!’
Some rienkie-plienk piano music, the kind in kiddies horror movies, come from the toilet and my ‘demons’ come out. They look like those hairy things in the kiddies books ‘Wildlings’. ‘Hahaha!” laughs the silly demon and a row of them float across the passage laughing at me. Can you believe it, even in my altered state, my demons mock me. Bastards.
All of this happens in about 10 hours. I wanted to opt out of the show and change the channel, but you can’t. You simply have to sit it out.
Twelve hours later, I learn how to walk again. I hold on to walls and stick to small amounts of steps at a time. I look at my garden, grateful to see it. The brightness of the bougainvillea blinds me, in a pleasant way. The grass prickles my feet and the wet dog poo rises flagrantly from lawn.
It bothers me that I did not ‘see the light.” I wonder If I took the wrong dosage. Well, I took the wrong dosage for what I was supposed to. They say one must take a ‘committed’ dose. I would think leopard-crawling along the floor to drink the cat’s water is pretty committed.
MORAL OF THE STORY
Hmmmm, I’m not going to call it a ‘lesson’ but I take this with me:
I doubt that I’ll be curious to take another hallucinogen again. My realiity and all the ideas fighting for place inside my head on a daily basis is a lot more colourful and interesting than where the cannabis took me.
(Apologies for the poor writing. I am still a bit shaky and coming down.)