Chapter 1 LSD 1

This entry is part of 16 in the series article 92

Chapter 1 LSD 1

CHAPTER 1

LSD #1

Although Nebraska March afternoons glowed with summer warmth, nights were chilly reminders of winter’s reluctance to secede. We walked the side streets of Omaha slowly, enjoying the summer-like weather; coats slung over shoulders; we were seventeen. The girl I walked beside was a new friend. “Hi! I’m Sharon,” she announced one morning before school as I stood leaning against the wall waiting for my first class. “What’s your name?” Can’t get any friendlier than that. “How long have you been blind? I’ve seen you around school this year. Do you like poetry?” Well, you can’t tell a girl who has, out of the clear blue, just walked up and touched you on the arm; that poetry isn’t where it’s at. “Sure,” I squeaked, “why not?” “Maybe I’ll bring some of my poetry I’ve written tomorrow

morning and read some to you. How’s that?” she said, her voice smiling as the bell rang.

“Sounds great,” I mumbled; knowing I’d never hear from her again. She was back that next day though and with her poetry. It was pretty good, too. Different, though; even sort of strange, but who cares. She was friendly, after all, and I could live with a little bit of poetry if it meant making a friend.

Touching her arm lightly, she guided me down the quiet side streets toward her home after school. We had known each other for just about two months. We had shared time together every day at school. We had taken walks, talked over the phone for hours, and she had read poetry. We had gone to a rock concert together, the Grateful Dead, and we had smoked marijuana. Now, as soon as we reached her home, I would take LSD for the first time.

Leading me to the living room couch she said, “I’ll clean up the house some before my mom and step dad get home. “How long will that be?” I inquired. “Oh, a couple of hours,” she guessed. “Don’t worry though.

They never stay home very long because my step dad likes to go out on Friday nights. We’ll have the house to ourselves most of the evening and then when Rick gets off work at about 10 O’clock, he’ll drive us over to Mike’s place.” “Mike’s?” Whose Mike?” “Oh, Mike’s a real neat guy with long hair. His mom leaves

for the weekend all the time and everybody goes over to Mike’s to shoot speed, drop acid, listen to music and to make love. There’s nobody to bother us all weekend.” “I’ve got to be home by midnight, is that a problem?” “Naw!” she sniffed, “my boyfriend Rick will take us home any

time we want to go. Don’t worry…” her voice fading as she walked off to begin her cleaning.

A few moments later she returned and said, “Wanna’ try some acid now?” “Sure” I said nervously. Placing a fourth of a tablet on my tongue she said, “Let it dissolve slowly. Don’t chew it.” “How long does it take,” I asked after it dissolved. “Oh, maybe thirty minutes to an hour. It varies.” Over an hour later Sharon said, “Aren’t you coming on to it yet?” “I don’t know,” I confessed. “I don’t even know what I’m supposed to expect.” “Mmmmm,” she hummed, “maybe I better give you some more. It

doesn’t look like you’re coming on to it. I’ll give you another quarter tab just in case. “Okay,” I agreed, “whatever you say.” Sharon quickly introduced me to her parents upon their

arrival and then just as quickly ushered me away to her room where we spent the next couple of hours talking. She read from current hippy magazines and we talked about our different lives. Occasionally Sharon’s myna bird squawked from the living room and whistled loudly. More than three hours had passed and I still felt no effects from the LSD she had given me. “I can’t figure it out,” she frowned, “you should be stoned by now.” “I don’t know,” I shrugged, “maybe it won’t work with me.” “Are you hungry?” she asked, tugging at my arm and leading me to the door. “Let’s go out to the kitchen and eat something.” “What about your folks,” I said hesitantly.” “Oh, they’re out in the living room eating. Besides they’ll leave shortly. The television roared from the living room; covering our

kitchen conversation. The myna screeched; His laugh remarkably similar to Sharon’s step dad’s. “Here,” Sharon said, “let me read a couple of my recent poems to you. A moment later I laughed beatifically. “What’s so funny,” she said suspiciously.

“I don’t know,” I said grinning. “I just felt like it I guess.” “Are you sure you aren’t coming on to the stuff?” “I don’t think so,” I said with a sudden burst of laughter. “Oh, you’re coming on to it all right,” she said with a vaticinal grin. “Oh, really,” I laughed, “how can you tell?” “Well, beside that silly laughing you’re doing, you’ve got a smile ten miles wide on your face!” We laughed harmoniously. The rocket stood hissing on its pad; the count down echoing

metallically across the acres of concrete through the loud speakers. Vapors billowed voluminously from beneath the powerful craft. The morning air was crystal; the sky purple haze. the seconds ticked one-by-one. Suddenly it belched huge plumes of thick milky clouds high into the air and began to shutter. Slowly at first, almost imperceptibly, but rising inch-by-inch it moved, as though some colossal hand was lifting, straining, pushing. Multi-colored sparks began showering the ground from about the base of the metallic monster, throwing up a curtain of brilliant rainbow electrified colors, as though some demented blacksmith’s hammer had begun striking super heated iron. The cacophony of sound grew deafening. Suddenly the machine spat brilliant orange, red and blue flames, carving a crater in the earth, as it catapulted from its launching pad; throwing the machine gone wild screaming into the sky. The rocket tilted slightly in its projectry to the stars and flashed as lightning in the darkened blue sky. Reaching zenith, the rocket burst into brilliant Colors – yellows, greens, golds, blues, whites, violets – expanding…expanding…expanding. The rainbow whirled into metallic bands encircling my thoughts.

I heard a horse laugh on television in the living room. Green water foamed from the set and floated like jello into the room. I giggled! “You are stoned!” she announced confidently. “I think so,” I snickered through multi-colored luminous

bubbles of laughter. “If this is what you mean by being stoned, I guess I must be. I know one thing,” I said. “What?” “I’m high!” The voices in the living room faded as though sucked slowly

from the house by a silent vacuum sweeper. “There gone!” Sharon announced as she turned up the radio. “Listen to this.” Musical notes painted every color in the rainbow tumbled head-over-heels from the speakers into the room. I bumped into them as I snatched Sharon’s dog up and hugged him. I was swimming in translucent ink. Music – music – music. I could touch it; I could feel it; I could taste it. I patted one of the musical notes on the head, “Be a good boy, now,” I giggled. He nodded obediently and danced away.
“Hey, see that guy over there on the couch?” he pointed excitedly. They all nodded enthusiastically. “This is his first acid trip.” Their little eyes flashed brightly. “Let’s show him a good time. What-da-ya’ say?” They all bounced up-and-down laughing uncontrollably bursting into tiny points of multi-colored Christmas tree lights.

“Hey,” Sharon said turning the radio down. “What’s it like?”

“I can’t really say,” I laughed. “It’s all lights and colors and sound. It’s like I just dived into a kaleidoscope and I’m one of the colors. Hey,” I said, “why are you turning the radio off?” “I’m not!” I heard the dialing of the telephone. “What are you doing? Tell me,” although I really didn’t care. “I’m calling the FM radio station we’re listening to.” “What?” “I’m calling the radio station.” “Why? What for?” “You’ll see…Hi, my name’s Sharon and I have a blind friend

here setting on my couch. He’s on his first acid trip. Can you play something for him? Great! Do it!”

“I don’t believe it!” I said laughing uncontrollably. She sprang for the stereo, twisting the volume full on, just as the last song died away.

“Someone just called in,” the announcer said, “with a special request. Here it is, then. Jimmy Hindrix.”

A paper thin ribbon began to flow from the speaker of Sharon’s stereo. It looked like the sound of a guitar. It shot to the ceiling, striking it dead center and exploding into a shower of red sparks. Music rushed out of the speakers and flowed over my mind. I became music. Shining colors overcame and sucked me into the vortex. I breathed the music and the sound. The music became me. I soared into the night, bursting above the atmosphere into dazzling starlight. Tiny beams of light traversed the universe ricocheting off my brain waves. The shining lunar orb smiled. “Enjoying yourself?” I laughed. gold and blue fog escaping my lips like chilled breath on a cold morning. I ran…my feet touched stars which became tiny explosions of electric energy. I flew faster and faster. Space dust clinging to my skin. spreading my arms and legs, I became a four-point star whirling end-over end, passing brightly through the darkened blue void, weightless, free, uninhibited.

Suddenly I was being pulled back…back…back…back. The earth loomed ahead. Its shiny blues and greens somehow comforting. The oceans shown luminescent. The polar caps glittered with silvery brightness. I was falling into a bubbling fountain of colors. I struck the waters; laughing with the impact. I drank in the geometric shapes. They bumped against each other as they tumbled into my open mind.

“He’s stoned” I heard a hexagon whisper. “Yeah, but I think he knows that,” said a winking circle. I drifted down and felt the coolness of the water shining in the night about me. Luminescent fish twinkled in the darkness. I floated slowly, nearly weightless, and free.

A turtle blinked on; His feet shining purplish and his shell glistening orange. Smoking a hash pipe. he spoke; White smoke puffed from his mouth and nostrils. “Your first trip, huhh?” I nodded with a smile. He grinned, “Not bad, kid, not bad. It looks like you’re doing pretty well, too.” “Thanks,” I said. “Who are you?” “I’d tell you but the songs almost over.” I dropped like a stone into the deep and thumped hard against

the couch where I had started. Jimmy Hindrix was fading away. The musical notes were scampering for their speakers, their little legs moving quickly. The last dozen or so notes dived into the open speakers just as the song whirled, like a tiny tornado, back into the depths of the stereo. I sighed. “Wow!” “Pretty neat?” It was a woman’s voice close to my ear. “Is that you Sharon?”I questioned. “Its me,” she confirmed. “Don’t worry. I’m not going

anywhere. In fact, I won’t trip at all tonight just to be with you on yours. I’ll make sure nothing happens. How was the music?” There was a knock at the door. “Oh that must be Rick.” She jumped to her feet and unlocked the front door.

“Phil, I want you to meet my boyfriend, Rick. He’s a senior at West. Rick, this is Phil. He’s stoned,” she announced with a tiny giggle. “Hi Phil. How’s the trip,” Rick said with a friendly laugh. “Wow!” is all I managed to say. They both laughed. “That seems to be a common word with heads,” Rick confessed,

lighting a cigarette. “You’ll find yourself saying it a lot. Don’t rush anything tonight, Phil. Don’t try and fight the trip in any way. Just flow with it.”

I plunged my arms down into two cavernous black holes, which I suddenly realized were the sleeves of my coat. The hiss of my zipper sounded like the sky ripping. We pushed into the chill night. The cold air snapped like a flapping flag in brisk wind and I sucked its freshness into my lungs. I touched the cold metal of the car.

“Hi,” the car said, its hood springing up-and-down as it annunciated. “Wanna’ go to Mike’s place?” “Yeah, Mike’s place,” I agreed and got in. The house was filling up with teenagers. LSD was exchanging

hands, needles were being brandished. Music was thundering from large speakers in the corners of the room. Marijuana and hashish smoke mingled with incense. Strobe lights blinked ominously, Bodies lay on the floor or twisted on couches and chairs. Mobiles hung from the ceiling. Beds infolded naked bodies.

“Mike this is the kid from Benson High I told you about. His name is Phil and this is his first trip!”

Good going Phil,” Mike coached. “My mom is always gone on the weekends so we have the whole place to ourselves. We’ve never been busted here so enjoy.”

“Open your mouth,” Rick said touching Mike on the shoulder. “I’ve got something for you. He dropped a tab of LSD into Mike’s open mouth. Somewhere the music was playing, now, but softer. I heard conversations all around me as I sat. Little voices,

big voices, squeaky, soft. Mice talking? The radio had a mouth. What happened to the roof? It began raining stars; tiny diamonds sprinkling down like glistening snow. A fish swam by. Her florescent scales sparkled as fins blinked off-and-on like blue florescent signs. Her eye looked back at me sparkling like a emerald. “Care for a swim?” It had Sharon’s voice. “Let me show you what water feels like when you’re stoned,” I heard the fish say speaking with Sharon’s voice. She held out a hand and I let her lead me to the kitchen. Water was turned on and my hands held under the glistening stream of liquid silver flowing from the spout. “It feels like oil doesn’t it?”

Sharon was perched on the arm of the over stuffed chair. “How do you feel,” she asked. “Fine,” I sighed. “Are you okay?” “I’m doing just great,” I replied with a note of nonchalance. “Here,” Sharon said, “try a hamburger. A pickle burst

greenly into metallic color. “How can green taste like that?” I wondered. “Back In The U.S.S.R” drifted from a radio. Marijuana smoke hovered in the air. I began to awake from my dream.

“What did you do tonight?” Mom questioned. “you look kinda’ pail.”

“Oh, nothing much,” I said deprecatingly. “Is there anything to eat? I’m starved.”

“Didn’t you get anything to eat when you were out?” she said suspiciously while prying open a container. “Oh, I had a little hamburger I guess but nothing much.” “You look pail,” she said again. “Do you feel okay?” “I feel great,” I said crunching on a potato chip. “Just fine!” The next morning I became a psychedelic evangelist. Rolling

a sheet of paper into my typewriter, I began to write to the Reader’s Digest to tell them in great detail of my experience on LSD and recommended everyone do it for themselves soon. How could something so exciting, so thrilling, so far out be wrong? Six months later I would dramatically discover the answer to that question.

As I wrote this chapter, and reread it, I was struck by the power of deception and how easily I was misled. There is an unusual verse in the book of Hebrews that says: “But exhort one another daily, while it is called To day; lest any of you be hardened through the deceitfulness of sin” (Heb. 3:13).

Though sin is deadly and destructive, with eternal ramifications, its most corrupting characteristic is deceit. The word used by the inspired writer of Hebrews for “hardened” is translated (to render stubborn). The heart of a Believer, therefore, is made stubborn by the deceitfulness of sin; not just by the act of sin alone. How could this be true? The committing of sin by a Believer is quickly rendered forgiven upon confession of that sin (I John 1:9). The deception employed by Satan, however, is not easily defined and is often so complex and so cunningly devised that it is not easily discerned. In short, the blood of Christ is applied to sin and when applied by confession, it no longer exists. The Deceiver, however, remains active and the deceit employed is spiritually evil in nature.

The word for “deceitfulness” is apate from which we get our word (apathy). The Greek word means (delusion) and comes from a root meaning (to cheat). (apathy), according to the dictionary, means (indifference to the appeal of feelings or interest). (delusion) is defined as (a misleading of the mind). Certainly Satan uses such misleading of thoughts to trick, or otherwise fool, a Believer into committing sin; even if we know what we are doing is wrong (I.E., sin). It is the “delusion” which creates an attitude of apathy – spiritual indifference – which hardens a Believer’s heart toward God.

In my situation, I had faced a life change in reentering the public school system. I had only been blind four years but upon enrolling in the public school, I felt isolated and alone. I wanted friends; I wanted escape from the pressure of my blindness and school; I wanted freedom. The devil used this to spin a silky psychedelic web which generated apathy toward spiritual things. In other words, I was so cunningly deceived, I simply didn’t care what happened. Satan, however, never informs us of the consequences of our actions. He makes what he has to offer look exciting, fun, and thrilling. It is, of course, at first but the price is too high. Fortunately, Jesus Christ paid the price in our behalf when He gave His life upon the cross. Though we are instantly delivered from the price and penalty of sin, the power of sin’s deception still can fool even the best.

The way of avoiding such deception, and temptation, is to remove as much of the worldly influence as possible. In my day, Christian schools were few and home schooling had not yet been introduced to Christian society. Our church, school, and friends produce a protective perimeter which affords safety, and though not fail safe, it can give, coupled with the Word of God, a degree of protection otherwise not available. pick friends carefully and know the Word of God. Avoid temptation at all costs.

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