Shared Experiences

Shared Experiences

Welcome! This page is for sharing personal experiences with psychoactive substances. Please be respectful, honest, and avoid personally identifying information about others.

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== Short Title For Your Experience ==

; Substance:
; Dose:
; Setting:
; Summary:
; Story:
Write your full story here in normal paragraphs.

---

Stories

Below are shared experiences. Each new story will appear as its own section at the bottom of this page.

Late November

Substance

Nutmeg

Dose

1/8 tsp

Setting

My apartment, on a cool foggy night. Ambient.

Summary

Nothing special. But nothing unspecial.

Story:

An evening of a long day that seemingly dragged on and on and on, the day after discovering the wonderful PsychoactiveWiki.org, I was thrilled at the idea of coming home to the satiation I knew I could attain with a glass of eggnog sprinkled with nutmeg. No intention of mine was to seek a psychedelic thrill...

And none was experienced either. The glass was excellent, the flavor and aroma magnificent, and I was left with a thirst for more. After all, nutmeg isn't noticeably psychoactive in such small doses. Only when it gets toxic and borderline deadly do you really feel anything. At least so I've heard. I wouldn't even consider facing the delirium it could induce...

I do wonder if people have been drawn to nutmeg for more than its flavor alone. Or perhaps the pumpkin spice & cold weather really did keep it propped up.

Substance

LSD

Dose

~50μg

Setting

Christmas Lights in a forest

Summary

Cold night with a psychedelic orgy of color

Story:

I arrived at the arboretum under false pretenses, believing it to be a quiet stroll through tasteful holiday lights. A harmless civic event. Families. Cocoa. Maybe a deer or two politely illuminated in soft green LEDs.

This was a lie.

The parking lot alone was an active war zone of minivans and Subarus circling like anxious sharks, their drivers dead-eyed with the seasonal panic of people who have promised “a magical night” to small children who negotiate with terrorists.

Inside, the trees were on drugs.

Every branch radiated neon madness — electric blue, radioactive red, colors that did not exist in nature before the invention of the microwave oven. The woods pulsed like a casino floor for woodland creatures. Somewhere, a thousand LEDs flickered in patterns that suggested hidden messages from a deranged snowman cult.

Children ran past me in packs, shrieking with joy, faces glowing like cherubs sponsored by the power company. Parents followed behind with the hollow gait of soldiers who had lost the war but continued marching out of habit.

I was handed a cup of hot chocolate by a volunteer wearing antlers. It tasted vaguely like sugar, regret, and something industrial. The steam rose into my eyes and I hallucinated the moon wearing a Santa hat.

Ahead, the path of lights — a long, throbbing corridor of glittering insanity — swallowed tourists whole. Inside it, time ceased to function properly. People aged in reverse. Toddlers became monarchs. Grandparents turned feral. A man in a light-up sweater wept openly while filming a glowing reindeer that slowly changed colors like a mood ring.

Somewhere deep in the arboretum, I found a tree wrapped entirely in white lights, glowing so brightly it appeared to be holy. A woman knelt before it with an iPhone raised, whispering, “This one’s going on the card.”

I escaped at last, blinking into the ordinary darkness of the parking lot, ears ringing with distant carols vibrating at unsafe frequencies. The forest behind me continued glowing like a radioactive Eden, humming with electricity and seasonal madness.

And it is beautiful — in the same way a thunderstorm is beautiful when you’re running from it.