I was in the habit of searching the streets and parks for spliff ends and taking the dope out and smoking it in my pipe. Since I hadn’t smoked any in years so I fancied for another go. Just a tiny pinch of green left.
When I smoked it I knew I had done a bad thing. Instantly I started to have a panic attack and was convinced I was Satan and that I had to die straight away, there and then. I thought this idea even though my mind felt so weak. I knew I was going to die.
Then it got really strange. I wasn’t in my flat anymore. I was in a world of coloured static. What I was seeing was thoughts. I sensed other people there in that place. They were examining something in this world of thought: the pattern of reality.
I was part of that pattern and when they got around to my bit they accused me of being Satan and that my pattern was ruining the whole of reality
I knew if I agreed then I would die there and then, so I just ignored them. But the same thing kept happening over and over. I was fighting for my life in a living nightmare. They were the gods of reality and I was the devil god.
Eventually it ended. I do not know much of what happened after and had been sick down my shirt.
I told some people on the web about this and they mentioned Spice. Some of the experiences I’ve read match mine in some ways. The Static, the repetition of sounds or thoughts.
Never again. Even though that place I went to felt like heaven, it also felt like hell.