my ultimate truth...the story turned ramblings

[Issmortor]

This post in in NO WAY meant to encourage or educate any reader about anything posted ther-in...this is mearly a story i made up. I was going to make up a story about several months of a mans life, but then the man starts to become a religeous fantic and gets on a roll of documenting his actual thoughts, which is usually hard for hm to do. It is a very long read, but please read it, it will make you think...that is if you dont think hes totally insane...

For the sake of boredom and wanting to share my story...I decided to come back to my old buddy named eBaum’s Forum. I have a story to tell about the last few months of my life, and how the concurrent events and after effects have affected my life. I understand many of you may not be interested in reading such a long post, but I'm sure that if you do decide to read it, you will think it to be quite an interesting event and change of life.
On April 22nd, 2008, I decided to take Shrooms for the third time, I had quite a bit left from a purchase I made a few weeks prior. So a friend and I, whom I will hereafter refer to as “M”, were going to split the remaining amount, and trip out for the night. There was my first mistake, we were going to do the shrooms at night, in a third-story, one-bedroom apartment, with no sitter (aside from a guy in the bedroom who has no experience with shrooms, or any psychedelic for that matter, he’s more into amphetamines, such as cocaine). We will here forth refer to this person as “J.” With all the research, reading, Erowid scanning, experience reports, and anticipation that I built up over the prior year or so before this night, I should have known that this was a horrible setting to do this in, but for simply the only reason of “not wanting to wait another few weeks for a more suitable setting”, we partook anyway.
My dose was taken in such a fashion that suited my hate of nasty tastes in the mouth; I took some pill capsules from an old prescription that I no longer used, emptied them out, and scooped up all the “shrooms shake” into the capsules. I had about 20 or so large capsules. And M just chewed and swallowed the big pieces that remained. We each divided our amounts into three doses, the first taken around 11p, the next at 11:20p, and the third and final around 11:45p. And then we put on some Jazz from the Music Choice channels from my Comcast service, and we sat on the futon, waiting for the first signs. M didn’t know what to look/feel for, so I explained some of what I felt the previous times I had partook.
The first effects come onto me as a chilly feel, accompanied by just simple anticipation. M continued to wait and kept nay-saying about nothing is happening to him. Until eventually, he was just staring at the wall, of which I noticed and asked “There’s something different about that wall, isn’t there, M?” to which he replied “I think so, let me keep looking,” followed by a laugh. So the “come-up” continued.
After the “come-up”, I remember very little until about a month later. Let me start with the few things that happened while tripping, probably not in the correct chronological order:
*Sitting on the floor discussing with M about how nothing in the world really matters, because once you do something, time just flips back on itself and you can just start over again.
*Rolling around on the floor in a bundle of piled blankets and pillows, loving the ecstatic feeling on my skin.
*Every time M tried to go outside, I would be sure to stop him, reminding him of the road and the dangers outside in our condition.
*Going to the mirror in the bathroom (which tends to always be the brightest room in any house), and M and I looking at ourselves in the mirror, but me feeling very nervous/scared because on my face, it seemed that I only saw a skull. But M loved the bathroom facial staring.
*Walking around the [oh-so-small] apartment, looking for M, hesitant to check in the bathroom due to my fear of the “skull man” in the mirror, but eventually crawling in on my hands and knees, to make sure my head wasn’t about to see the mirror. And find M curled up in the tub, fully clothed, and smiling at the ceiling, no water running of course.
*M and I, using the best word I can think of to describe it, “playing” around in the living room, and M suggests, “Lets to in J’s room?” and I reply, “Yes, of course, why haven’t we been in there yet?!”, so we both run in (just around the corner from the living room in this small apartment). M goes for the closet and crouches in a seemingly about-to-pounce on prey stance, and I go for the bed and cover with blankets. J responds with “Come on guys, get out, leave me to my game” (which he was playing WoW).\
*(either the same time or separate from the above memory, I’m not sure) I was sitting on a chair next to J, watching him play WoW and seeing the Naga creatures, which are some type of lizard/merfolk or something, and laughing so hard until I cried at the hilarity of these creatures. And also shouting out when they would shoot purple ball attacks at him. J actually thought this was funny also, that I could get so much euphoria from these creatures, and inquired as to what I was feeling, I believe I responded with “Pure euphoric ecstasy.”
*Several times, either M or I would ask the other hesitantly if we should change the music from Jazz to another genre, in which the other would fervently disagree and give various reasons as to the importance or the Jazz music during the trip and the calming effect it had on us during times of fright.
After these various momentary flashbulb memories, the next memory I have is this: Being down on the ground below the balcony, trying to crawl toward the door of the ground level apartment. Then the next flash I have is of being carried up the steps by M and J, in a very hazardous way. The next memory after that is of J pacing back and forth as I lay on the futon saying “Man you really fucked up this time…You’ve really fucking done it now…” After that flash, I am lying on the floor of my apartment with several paramedic and police officials, it seemed very loud and I was very scared. Then I have a flash of being carried back down the steps, much more calmly and less bumpily than when I was carried up. The next and much more clear memory I have is of lying in a hospital bed, my legs hurt very badly and they had me laying on a board (I assume to keep my body flat, and I was strapped down to avoid movement). After noticing that my eyes were open, I was aware, and looking around, J walks in the room and asks “How you feeling man?” At this point I was only a bit confused, but in some way, I kind of knew where I was. I responded “Which hospital am I at?” He answered and observed “You’re real fucked up man…are you conscious and aware of what’s going on right now?” I responded, “Yeah I think I can tell something went wrong and I’m in the ER…” and I suddenly remembered M and I ask “Oh man, is M ok?” J responds, “Yes M is fine, I’ll tell him to come in” J left and M came in and seemed relatively straight-minded. I asked him “something went wrong didn’t it?” He responded “Obvious-fuckin’-ly”. I try to laugh, we say a few more words to each other, and then he goes to sit down again. Several minutes later I get taken to an MRI/CAT or something like that, and I remember telling the people who were push/pulling my gurney, “I’m sorry for making you do this” To which one responded “It’s ok, we’re doing our job, you have nothing to be sorry about” And then the other responded to the first “Well, trying to commit suicide is a pretty sorry thing. Now I do remember enough that I know I didn’t intentionally jump off that balcony for an attempt at suicide. I don’t remember the moments immediately prior to the fall, so I’m not sure what was going through my mind. Whether it was belief that I could “fly” or that time would just flip back again so it wouldn’t matter, but I know I have always thought that nothing can be better than life in itself. So I muster my energy and yell as best I can at the man “Shut up ass fucker, I fucking fell. I didn’t try to kill myself, but maybe you should!” He looked at me like he was utterly surprised that I comprehended what he said, and seemed appalled that I would even talk to him like that. This is where my memory ends; I don’t even remember getting to the MRI/CAT scan…
The final results were thus:
One severely shattered left jaw; broken left wrist; both calcanea (sp?)(The calcaneus is the biggest bone in the foot, basically making up the whole or the big lump on the back of your foot), the right of which was much more severe than the left; a minor pelvic fracture; and my 1st and 4th Lumbar spine vertebrae were basically shattered to oblivion.
They had me in a drug-induced come from 4/23/08 to 5/21/08, March 21st was the first day I can somewhat remember anything of. Both feet had cushioned boot things, my mouth was entirely wired shut, my front teeth were literally stuck inside my bottom teeth(like how the normal mouth is when its completely shut) and I couldn’t open it more than a millimeter or two(which also meant I had absolutely no space between my teeth to eat), so I had to get fed and administered my medicine through a “Percutaneous endoscopic gastrostomy tube”, which is basically just a 2-3mm diameter tube that tunneled from my intestine to about a foots length out of my left side.
My scars consist of the following as well:
On my left wrist, the bottom looks like I did try to commit suicide, and just missed that main vein by half an inch. My spine has about a one and a half foot long scar stretching from my tailbone to about halfway up my back. My inner left jaw is all misshapen and a bone pushes through my cheek, making it looks swollen at all times. I have about a 3mm circular scar where the PEG tube was located. About a seven to eight inch scar on my left hip, which is where they had to cut open, pull out my organs, laying them on the table beside me, and access my spine from the front. There is a four inch long scar on the right side of my backend pelvic region. This is where they removed a few pieces of pelvic bone to put into a small cylindrical thing that currently [tries] to act as my 4th Lumbar vertebrae. As well as a scar on the outer side of my right ankle that starts at about the Achilles Tendon, curves down along my heel, and goes about halfway along the outside of my foot. Also with my right foot, I now have what is called “drop foot”, which means I have very little muscular control over the foot, I cannot raise it at all, and have only about a centimeters worth of movement downward, so I have to wear a MAFO (modified ankle foot orthopedic), which is a plastic mold, to hold my foot upright to make it easier to walk. And the final and most noticeable is the inch diameter scar of where my tracheotomy tube was located on the front of my neck, which was used to help me breath during my induced coma, as well as about 4 days after I was awaken. They were going to leave it in for another week or so, but the nurses got pissed at me for taking it out whenever I wasn’t being watched and trying to breathe on my own, which took me about 3 days to retrain myself to do.
So I stayed in the hospital for about three and a half weeks after being woken from my coma, about seven and a half weeks total. I was then relocated to a physical therapy rehab center for another two and a half weeks or so. After the doctor and my “patient care consultant” (only God knows how she got that job/title) made a ridiculous mistake, I was able to go home to stay with my mother and uncle, who we will here forth refer to as C (mother) and A (uncle), in their one-bedroom apartment, which was even smaller than the one in which the injury took place. I spent the next month and a half or so sitting on the couch, or on the computer, all the while talking to my uncle while my mother worked. Once or twice a week or so, a physical therapist would come by and have me do exercises. We also had some interesting conversations, ranging from religion to theoretical science, and more, which I always like to have conversations about. My crazy uncle during which made irrelevant and nonsensical comments about what he thought of the subject, of which Mr. Therapist and I mostly ignored, on my advice.
During this time, my brother J, the same one from the night of the injury had moved his family in from another state to live with him, his ex-wife was having a hard time, so she brought their two children as well as her other son from a previous relationship, so then, and still now, there are five people living in that tell-tale and fateful one-bedroom apartment. So I had to make a decision as to where I was going to stay once I eventually got my life back on track, started working again, and continued to try to adapt to my new lifestyle. C, A and I eventually moved into a much larger and nicer two-bedroom apartment in the same complex we were in before. I have my own bedroom, as does my mom, where uncle A sleeps in a recliner in the living room due to his own bodily injury impairments.
So, around early to mid August, I decided I needed to start on the road to try to get back to work, I contacted my HR department, and they said to just mail them a note from the doctor saying I’m fit to go back, and I could start whenever I was able. So I had my doctor do just that, wrote a note saying I could return to work with full job responsibilities…which consists of sitting in a desk answering phones all day and helping customers with technical issues with certain multimedia equipment. Anyway, so this is how my current situation is: I am living about 40 minutes away from my workplace, I don’t have a car, I have about $1,400 in the bank from the last few months short-term disability checks I had been receiving. So after much dilemma and budget estimating, and planning a very secure and tight layout of my next for financial months, I bought a car from a very friendly guy, whom we will refer to as L, off the side of the road. A nice, dark red, ’91 Oldsmobile Cutlass Sierra with only 91.7k miles on it, which ran very nicely, for $1000. I then had to, with my remaining monies, transfer the title, and get it registered, and inspect it, also keeping in mind that I need gas money to get to work and back for at least two weeks before my first paycheck. After again much deliberation and upset nights trying to figure out a budget, I figured it out. I won’t go into more detail about that, because at this point you’re already probably getting bored reading about this.
But somehow, by God’s good graces, I made It through, started working and have been doing good at work the past few weeks, I get my second check in a few days, which will go more toward hospital bills and other monthly expenses, but at least I’m back on track and have no more major worries about what’s going to happen in the next few weeks financially.
I also want to let you know about the several “dreams” that I had while I was in my induced coma state:
*One was that me and several other people were on a speeding train, we were all friends and happy and talking. Then one guy comes back from walking down the cars of the train and tells us that the engine train is filled with piles and piles of cocaine. We all rush to the front and see it all, and then we all start fighting, but we can’t die. There is a gun that people would shoot and someone would just grow back the body part and continue fighting, the only way to get rid of someone is to kick them off the train, and at the end it was just a woman and me left on the train fighting and trying to get each other off, but neither of us were making any leeway on the other.
*Another was very disturbing to me in my coma state. It seemed like a similar setting to the movie Cube (and its sequels). But I would be tossed around a room, running from someone or something, but then it would always catch me, and pin me up on the ceiling with millions or little pin-needle things, and then all the pins would spread out and my body would be ripped into basically a mashed, mush pile of blood and skin, but all the pieces were just these minute particles of sand and tiny bits.
*This one also disturbed me a lot. I was going to this farm type of area, but when I got to the farm, it was actually a factory, and there was like a good side and a bad side, and they were warring against each other, but I didn’t know which was which. So I would go back and forth between the two, trying to figure out what each ones plans were if they won the war. One side was like the dark side scenes of Silent Hill, hundreds of alien-like creatures, monsters, beasts, as well as humanoids, and we had these massive piles of junk and rubble, which we had to find random parts and create weapons with the junk, anything ranging from a slingshot to sophisticated weaponry. And sometimes when I would leave to go back to the other side, an old woman, very dirty and wretched, like someone from The Hills Have Eyes, would stop me and threaten to kill me with her super powerful newly compiled weapon if I deserted my post, but somehow I always was able to get away. The other side was a different type of factory which was trying to create some sort of packages, like slaughterhouse mixed with Santa’s toy-workshop. All the materials would come in through this gate and then hooks would pike up the blocks of goo-like stuff and it would be sorted into different categories, I didn’t know what the goo was, but it wasn’t pleasant, like some sort of mucus-puss-puke-carcasses and other random biological material made into cubes(similar as to how scrap metal is crushed and formed into giant blocks), and every time I went I would get grabbed by one of the hooks and the first few times I was sorted through the bad, wasteful categories, but then I learned that I needed to try to move to the good category, which would be used and be able to be created into something good and not wasted, so I would be grabbed by a hook and it would start pulling me toward the negative lines, but I would just mind-power will myself and the hook to move to the good lines, and after several passes through the horrible negative torturous bad lines, I eventually learned how to make myself go to the good lines, and once I got to the top, it was a cheerful and happy candy wonderland type environment where everything was happy.
The thing about these dreams was that they weren’t like normal dreams. I welcome any and all dreams any night of the year, either a happy dream or a horrid nightmare, because eventually I wake up and think, wow that was like an awesome interactive movie or something. But these come-dreams felt like more real than the normal REM sleep dreams, it seemed more real and more never-ending than normal dreams. Maybe it was due to the fact that I didn’t wake up right after the dream, but just kept sleeping and my mind was kept in a sub-active state. I’m not sure exactly what the difference was, but I know that none of the dreams were pleasant for long; mostly they were a long period of horror, maybe a few moments of wellbeing, then back to horror and negativity.
I would also like to note my new outlook on life in general, spawning from certain feelings that I had during the trip (before the injury). I used to have these theoretical thoughts about infinite multi-universes, where every action you made created a different universe, every instance of a moment, created another universe, were you could either do action A or action B, every moment of existence, you either look left or you look right, and when you look left, there was another universe spawned into existence where you looked right instead…now one of my new thoughts, sort of continuing off this theory, as well as taking some ideals from Taoism and any religion that believes every living thing is connected to all other living things, through some sort of ideal commonly referred to as the “soul”. What if this life that I am now living is actually just a manifestation of my comatose mind, and in my previous “universe” I’m still just lying in a hospital bed, in a real coma, and the people around me are mourning for my state of being, but this life that I am existing in now is manifested as if I really did wake up per what I know of to have happened in this universe that I am currently existing. But what if I wake up one day when I am 70 years old(in this universe) and I wake up in the hospital, only a few years, or maybe months, days, even hours, minutes, seconds after I arrived at the hospital, or possibly I “wake up” and then SPLAT! I hit the ground…is that what people refer to as “seeing their life flash before their eyes, right before a near death experience? But therein I wonder, if that were to happen, other than a faint memory, similar to the memory of a faint dream, the feeling that you get when you wake up and you know, positively know that you had a dream that night, but you can’t remember a single thing about it, would I “wake up” and know I just “existed” for 50 years in another parallel universe in my own mind? Therein lies the moreover following question of “Does it really even matter?” because whether you remember it, or believe it, or just think your continuing you same existence that you’ve been in, it CANT matter at all, because you CANT change it, you have to accept the universe that you’re consciously existing in as the only one you can consciously exist in...Ongoing from the manifested existence as if I were continuing to lay in a coma from my previous existence, you might ask, then how do I know what the people would be doing of whom I never met before? I answer this with the Taoism reference, everyone is just in a cycle of existence and an every recurring cycle of existence universes and no one is real and nothing is separate, all life is different, in the other universes, everything is different, similar to the matrix, physics don’t have to be rules, they can be bent and changed, but you won’t know your bending them from a actuality, because you KNOW that you’re living in the only reality in which is your own existence…
The previous paragraph, whether you understood it or not, is the ultimate true beauty of the mushrooms, I think anyone who has a true spiritual/physiological experience, as was meant for them to have been used since their creation(whether it have been your own manifestation or not) just knowing that you may be one of the select few that a willing to try to understand this ultimate truth and that everyone else around them just accepts what they [think they] “KNOW” about their existence…the matrix had it down quite well…but instead of us manifesting our own existences, the machines manifested them for us, and make the rules for us, but once you take the right colored pill(which I think was filled with psilocybin, or whatever it may be that opens the mind to the ultimate truth) lets those select few know the ultimate truth of life, or rather, what we think we are existing as life…
And it all lead back to people wanting to create their own reasons for life, religion, spirituality, etc… people need a reason to live, other than to just procreate, but with my newfound ultimate truth, there is no reason to live, because nothing is real, but don’t get me wrong, these are not suicidal thoughts, like I told you before when the gurney pusher said I tried to kill myself, I love life…or rather, I love this existence that I think is real, and I can’t wait until I reach my next phase of whatever life may be, the believers in reincarnation have it close, but they rationalize it as to having the limits of what they know in this existence as the “one true” universe known as earth, sun, universe, etc, but rather when we die, our minds just change to a new existence in an entirely different, or maybe similar if that is what the ultimate truth leads to, existence, forever ongoing and forever cycling,
Just as I learned from my shrooms trip, I went downward into a cycle of rewinding my existence and I almost reached that ultimate beginning, I felt as though I could go a few more steps and then I would be at the beginning, but my fear of that MORESO ultimate than I’m speaking of now…what is even before the beginning of my theories in this writing? Just like people say, if God created us, who created god…it all goes back to what is life…I now know what I believe, and as obscure and strange and irrelevant It may seem, it is no more obscure or irrelevant as any other religion, beliefs are what you want them to be, and you make life what you want it to be, you think you are contained by the boundaries of what you [so thought to] ‘KNOW” but everything is irrelevant and everything is ever-changing…
I got exactly what I was looking for in my shrooms trip, my realization of my rationalization of the ultimate truth.

Reputation Comments on this post:

Thanks for sharing this.

[yaba]

Sorry not enough time to read the whole story, but please read the rules... Nobody here talks about themselvs !

[MrG]

Yaba, he did say it was a made up story.

So, if I have read it right, the condensed version of that is this:

Guy takes shrooms,
trips his balls off,
Jumps/Falls from balcony,
Is badly injured,
Has mad dreams during coma,
Recovering slowly from injuries,
Believes mad dreams mean something, (They don't by the way)
Is reading *way* too much into his trip.

That sound about right?

[chillinwill]

good story and thanks for writing it; however, please only post it once instead of in multiple sections of the forum

[yaba]

Originally Posted by MrG

Yaba, he did say it was a made up story.

So, if I have read it right, the condensed version of that is this:

Guy takes shrooms,
trips his balls off,
Jumps/Falls from balcony,
Is badly injured,
Has mad dreams during coma,
Recovering slowly from injuries,
Believes mad dreams mean something, (They don't by the way)
Is reading *way* too much into his trip.

That sound about right?

Sorry your right, just had a quick look read a little.. And your version is easy to read!!

[Expat98]

I think the character in this imaginary story is displaying a remarkably positive outlook after his traumatic experience, while reflecting on fundamental questions of consciousness, life, and reality, and wisely trying to draw whatever personally meaningful insights he can from all of this.

Thanks for posting this story.