Touching Reality

Have you ever seriously asked yourself whether what’s happening around you is real—questioned the very reality you see? I have.

As you already know, I’m living completely sober now: two months without alcohol, and I don’t use drugs. Over the years I’ve experimented with many things, but one curiosity remained unchecked—a mushroom trip. And I decided there was no better place for it than Burning Man.

I took a dose large enough to make sure I’d get the experience I wanted on the first try. About twenty minutes later it hit. I wanted to lie down; even standing up, let alone walking, felt impossible. I told my friend I needed to rest and zipped myself into my tent.

It began with vivid images whenever I closed my eyes, and then the colors spilled into the world itself—like watching a cartoon layered over reality.

The feeling that I had been here before wouldn’t let me go, a relentless déjà vu. I’d shut my eyes and the same scenes would replay, again and again. It started to drive me mad. I fixated on time, deciding it was the only thing that might still be real. But it crawled—twenty minutes felt like an hour. Soon I couldn’t even keep track of that. I was lost.

My friend kept checking on me (I’d asked him to). About half an hour in, when he asked if I was okay, I said no. I wanted it to end.

He climbed into the tent and stayed with me for the rest of the trip. I kept touching him, as if I could anchor myself to something solid. He talked to me, but it all felt like it was happening outside reality. I could barely squeeze out a couple of words; speaking at all felt impossible.

Lying there, waiting for the trip to pass, my thoughts started spinning through my life. I couldn’t remember who I was, where I lived, where I worked. I kept asking myself whether my memories were real—or just frames from some film. It was so strange.

I tried to hold out until it ended so I could go to the bathroom, but it wouldn’t stop. I finally forced out a few words to ask my friend to walk me.

When we stepped out of the tent, I was completely disoriented. Night had fallen. All those multicolored lights on people, on bikes, on tents—so bright, so saturated. I immediately thought of a circus—not just any circus, but the one from a horror novel, The Pilo Family Circus. In that book the guy can’t escape the circus, and I couldn’t escape this hallucinogenic nightmare.

I touched everything around me just to make sure it was real. I wanted to break back into reality, to think clearly again.

When I finally came to my senses a bit, I asked how long it had been. The trip lasted only three hours, but it felt like an entire night.

I understand what kind of people like drugs. It’s simple: those who want to run from reality. I don’t, and I didn’t like it. The best state is sobriety and a clear mind. I’m glad I closed this last curiosity connected with intoxication. It was an interesting experience.