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Funny, when I first came here 2+ years ago, I thought it would be a great place to explore and learn more about paranormal experience, conspiracy theories and other occult subjects that are off limits with most anyone else you meet.
I won't say i've been totally disappointed, maybe somewhat disappointed though, because much of what does get talked about at this forum is just as HMW says it is, alot of W.O.O.
A couple of recent posts by timetunneler brought this point home to me.
Here, on Obama
which led to:
Here, about the georgia gorilla, where he gives an extensive timeline between events and bigfoot sightings.
timetunneler wrote: Posted: Wed Aug 20, 2008 6:53 am Post subject: Re: FBI: "spore on the grassy knoll"
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Dumbing down America for the Rich... one spook infested Hoax at a time:
"Funding for scientific investigation of the paranormal has come almost entirely from wealthy individuals. Virtually no large philanthropic organizations or government bureaucracies have provided substantial, long-term support for the research. The only exceptions are the intelligence agencies—the only section of government formally allowed to use deception. Why does the money come from these sources?"
http://www.tricksterbook.com/Intro.htm
In light of all the shenanigans surrounding the paranormal, because undoubtedly the government is up to their eyeballs in passing out the disinformation and debunking all at the same time, I'd like to try to make a case for a truthseeker in the midst of all the BS.
My theory is, we are more than they allow us to know, and most, if not all of the paths, to learn who we truely are, have been sabotaged.
That's all I'm going to say about this for now, because I spent alot of time writing out the story of the acid trip from 37 years ago, and I'm running out of steam. This story has to do with some of the experiences Beth Goobie talks about, it's why i read people like Levenda and it's why I copy books in the book forum about "the great psychological crime."
terryintacoma = Username (in case you didn't know.)
terryintacoma wrote:From my own personal experience with LSD, I would never in my wildest dreams ever consider giving acid to an alcoholic or to someone who is depressed or to a child or to whoever else they had locked up in their mental institution.
And I still wouldn't, and think anyone who advocates the use of these drugs to people they don't even know as a solution to their problems or a pathway to enlightenment is a scoundrel and a liar and a self-serving so and so. You rarely read detailed encounters of their trips, because they can only speak in cryptic sentences, as if they know something you don't.
terryintacoma wrote:The last time David Icke was in Seattle I went to see him speak. He ended his lecture talking about how "GREAT" his then recent psychedelic experience in Brazil had been. Guided by a shaman and the whole thing. idk It disappointed me, but he got another book out of it.
and I'll betcha five dollars that David can hook you up with a
spirit tour guide who will gladly sell you the same shamanic experience, so you could be as wise as David wishes he was.
Anyway, it seems that the psychedelic experiance is making it's way back via the "new-age" movement (mind-control movement). Kinda wonder if that's what brought down the hippies.
Don't worry conspiracy theory geeks, there is medication available for our condition. What does have the researchers concerned though is that our particular mental disorder is catchy.
I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I did not mean to insult any of you with that remark. I have always worn my
conspiracy theorist label proudly, and didn't realize you all were so sensitive about it.
terryintacoma wrote:I had some pretty good trips before unknowingly being fed a 4-way hit of windowpane acid at a party in Laguna Beach one night (age 17). I ended up in jail. Busted on a 4-way hit of acid.
Where to begin...
...it was back in 1971, I was 17 and drugs were easy to be had in the Cleveland suburb where I grew up. I mostly enjoyed smoking pot, but would occasionally get a hit of acid and take walks through the valley. It was pleasant. The tall trees would gently wave to me and invite me to rest near them, and although I appreciated the offer, and maybe smiled back, I would keep walking.
Oh, and there were a lot of trails too, when you were peaking. Trails like when a car drives by it becomes a long trail of cars. The material world became very fluid. Everything moved. Nothing was solid. Really did bring home the message of how drastically our perception of the world can change; a simple flip of the switch.
The worst part of acid was coming down. The material world seemed dirty, dense and disgusting, it was hard not to notice the change and it wasn't at all pleasent to be back, especially for the first hour or two.
The mescaline we had, could have just as easily been rat poison. You never really knew what you were ingesting, but it was odd because it put a design, a pattern over everything in lime green and pink. Not a paisley pattern, but it was ornate and consistant in color and style.
We're going to fast forward to the good part...ran away from home, hitchhiked to Calif, ended up in Laguna Beach, picked up by a wealthy family that lived on the hill. There was a mom, dad, two young children (ages 4 and 5) and two house guests living there. The dad was the one who found me sitting on the steps of a head shop with backpack, guitar, dog, etc, writing a letter home, and invited me to stay with them. He gave me to his male houseguest (don't ask) and i did stay with them for maybe a week before i could manage to get myself the heck out of that situation by finding a job as a live-in housekeeper/babysitter with this hispanic woman, who left me with her two young children (ages 3 & 5), only a day or two after i took the job. She said she would be gone for a week, vacationing with her boyfriend. Returned two weeks later.
Anyway, I and my girlfriend were invited to a party at the house of those wealthy people on the hill. (She was their babysitter which is how I came to meet her, and she was also the person who helped me to find a job.) The first thing that happens when we walk through the door, one of them slips a tiny something into our mouths and laughs, and tells us that it was a 4-way hit of windowpane acid.
I wasn't overly concerned about this and settled in for what i thought would be an interesting/fun trip. Sitting on the floor as the drug started to take effect, Kathy E. (the mother) was chatting to me as her two children played near us. She said about her children, "They could be such
monsters." and as soon as she said that, both of her kids turned into robot-like automatons and stared at me with expressionless faces, while marching into me, over me, and I'll tell you right now, it wasn't the acid at that point. I told her to call her kids off, and she did so. The kids ran off and i didn't see them the rest of the night.
Looking back on it now, many years later, i have come to realize they were trying to freak us out on purpose. You see, i had no idea people would actually do something like that, then.
Anyway, I started coming on to the acid pretty strong, panicking, and for some reason searching for the other house guest, who was this absolutely gorgeous blond with the mind of a child. (She must have been what remained of a previous visitor to this house.) I'm going down a hallway which is way long and distorted, trying to make it to the door at the end where I thought she would be, but whenever I would go near the door, it felt like I was about to burst into flames. Then I thought the house was about to burst into flames, and told them I had to get out of there. My girlfriend was sitting on the couch crying, they surrounded her and acted as if they were only trying to help her as they phoned every boyfriend she had ever broken up with. Maybe they were too busy to deal with me, so the other house guest puts me in his car and starts to drive me around.
Can't see much of anything I was tripping so hard, but I could see him driving the car, and out of the corner of my eye he would transform into a hideous demonic being, and he would put his left hand down beside him out of sight and I would feel it coming up under me and I'd freak out, look at him straight on and he would change back into the lowlife human he was, and look so worried and oh so concerned. I would look forward again and the same scene would happen out the corner of my eye. After that kept happening, 3 or 4 times, I insisted to be let out of the car. He stops the car, I and my dog Oscar get out of the car, and I can't see anything except for my dog's back-end. I figured I'd follow my dog's butt home, and I was doing pretty good until this police car pulled up beside me and I laughed at them.
They throw me into the back of the police car and take me to the County Jail. They were having their fun with me too, instead of taking me inside they're walking a little ahead of me coaxing me to "come on" motioning with their hands, being weirdos and up the stairs near the door I said "fuck this" and grabbed onto this pole and started yelling for help. They tugged at me, yanked me off the pole, tossed me through the door, and this other cop behind a window screen says, "What's going on here?" and I said "They're trying to kill me."
Well, after throwing up and pissing myself, they put me into a cell, and I remember seeing my dog was on the other side of the bars growling at the people in the doorway who were trying to calm Oscar and coax him out of there. I was sitting on the floor petting him through the bars, but realized the futility of our situation and asked Oscar to go with them. So he did.
I hung onto the bars there tripping my ass off. Whenever I would close my eyes I'd start racing through space and these voices are ahead of me encouraging me to follow them and we'd be zooming faster and faster and faster and I would have to open my eyes to stop. and they would say "awwww, come on, let's go, follow us" and when I would close my eyes we'd take off again and this would make them happy. But, while I was ripping through space at the speed of acid, I looked back at my body and it was dead and it was laying on the tiled floor of a gas station washroom, badly beaten, and the voices would assure me that this was ok.. I said "this ain't right, why do you have to leave me like that? What would my mother say when she reads that in the paper?" They insisted it wasn't important, "don't worry about it," “follow us.” and I said "No, I'm going back" which made them irritated with me.
I returned to my dead/dying body and started to re-enter at the base of the skull. I could feel the smashed jaw, taste the blood and worked to put my jaw back into place, and my lifeless limbs back into socket. It took a long time to pull my broken self back together.
I started to come down from the acid, found myself in that jail cell and said "shit, this is the afterlife?" (they never mentioned this in catechism class.) I took off my patched blue jeans, fringed leather jacket and the rest of my clothes, wrapped a blanket around me and sat up on the top bunk looking down at the pile of soiled clothes.
That was me.
In the meantime, the cops brought someone in and locked them in a cell down the way. I couldn't see the them or her, but after the cops went back out, lol, she started ohming.
Ooohmmmmmmmm...
I said "Hey. Hey, where are we?"
She stops ohming and says, "You don't know where you are?"
"No, tell me. Where are we?"
"Girl, you in jail."
And I said, "Oh, THANK GOD!"
Here's another weird part to this story. For at least a month or two after this event, no one would have ever been able to convince me that I didn't hold the choice of the outcome in my hands. I knew that I had chosen between two moments in time, like time stood still.
After that episode I couldn't take psychedelics without having the voices, now menacing, return. I tried a couple of times, then said, no more.
the end
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by terryintacoma » Sat Sep 23, 2006 7:09 am 
