Realising that senses alone won’t help me I try to remember what I did last night. It was my birthday and I was having dinner with my family. Of all the culinary delights my mother could have made, she chose a casserole with tough, fatty meat to cook in honour of my nineteenth. I politely made my way through the meal making bogus sounds of delight such as “mmm” to maintain the deception that I was enjoying it. I did this in order that she would drop me off at the pub. I was keen to get there as my friend had something new for us to try.
The noise in the pub was unbearable. There was loud, thumping music; disco lights, as bright as pulsars which permeated my eyelids and a cloud of smoke that pervaded the place. This didn’t bother me though, as I was eager to meet my friend who had something different for us to try. I was apprehensive about trying it, but my friend assured me that he had done it before and that everything would be fine. On his instruction, I went up to the bar and ordered two glasses of water. “I hope you’re not becoming tea total on me lad; you’re responsible for half my business” I can remember the landlord saying. I felt very uneasy as I laughed with him. I returned to the table where my friend and I were sitting with the glasses of water. As I sat down he slid his hand, face down, across the table and nodded in affirmation. No sooner had I realised what he was doing, and took the tablet from him, than he had chucked it into the back of his mouth, as comfortably as one would with a paracetamol, and washed it down with a glass of water. I quickly did the same, not wanting him to know that I had reservations about doing it. My friend looked remarkably relaxed about the whole thing and said: “It’ll take about twenty minutes to half an hour to kick in”.
Oh My God! What did I do last night! I push up with my left leg but it’s obstructed. In desperation I drive up with both hands, but the barrier doesn’t budge. I panic. I feel myself panting and gasping for air. I feel my breath rebounding off the surface above my head, condensing and dripping down onto my face. The indignity forces me to raise my head and upper body in an attempt to wake from this nightmare, but nothing comes of my efforts and I’m no closer to discovering where I am.
I can remember going outside last night. I was taking refuge from the loud, thumping music and flashing lights that were a source of constant torture. In my delirious state I could make out two figures in the darkness; as they stood staring at me I felt chilled by their glare. They began to approach me, and the sight of them walking towards me filled me with fear, but as their features came into a blurred focus I realised that it was my Mum and Dad. I asked them to help, to help me stop feeling this way, but they didn’t; they didn’t even reply. They just paused for a moment, looked me in the eyes with a sense of pity and walked away, back into the darkness
Was this real or imagined? I can’t make sense of any of this… unless… this is some drug-induced nightmare. Oh my God! What have I done? Something strange is happening now; I feel the sensation of being lifted. I close my eyes, too afraid to scream. I open my mouth but I’m unable to speak. I try to raise my arm but it’s lead. It’s no use. I’m powerless and petrified. I’m voiceless and unable to communicate this torture. On and on it continues, until eventually I’m rested down. I’d let out a sigh of relief if I was able to, but I’m not, I’m speechless. All I can do is lie here, helpless.
I can remember feeling helpless last night too. I looked up, saw Mum and Dad rushing along side me; I was unable to move. The lights on the ceiling above flashed passed my eyes and I struggled to keep conscious. There was a lot of shouting and then we crashed through some doors.
Suddenly a roar of voices and disjointed phrases charge into my thoughts without invitation. Gloomy conversations and speeches cycle round my mind, pushing my sanity onto the verge of a cliff. The precipice is ripped away by the silencing of the voices and the sound of a faint tune. The tune seems vaguely familiar; it’s reminiscent of the village church. Why would I be hearing this now? I doesn’t make any sense!
What was I thinking when I took that tablet? Now I’m paying the price of my stupidity with this drug-induced nightmare. What will my parents say? It’s at times like this that I wished I believed in God. Would he be able to help me now, I wonder. If any of my friends are ever thinking about being as foolish as I have been, I’ll try to stop them; before they put themselves through this. No matter what a good “trip” is like, it can’t be worth the risk of experiencing a bad one. I cannot fathom what I was thinking.
I’m moving again. Rocking violently, my heartbeat rapidly quickens to a high-speed thump and my lungs begin to race my heart. I just want this trip to end. I never want to put myself through this nightmare again. There is a slight jolt and I’m stationary. Thank God! There’s a low hum, like the hum of machinery, and I’m moving again, but not rocking this time. This time the movement seems quite linear, and as I begin to relax…
There is a roar, like the roar of a furnace which causes my heart to quicken, my lungs to race and my mind to panic. Tiring of this torture, I just want it to end. It’s hot. My God it’s hot! I begin to perspire; the air thins and I gasp for oxygen. My feet blaze, and suddenly I realise that this is no nightmare; this is no illusion. I scream in agony. Aware of the inferno approaching my feet, I start to convulse, fitting in a futile effort to break free from my constraint. Flames rupture the coffin that restrains me, and the foul smell of burning flesh is masked by the inevitability of death.
