I'd like to try to describe the panic attack in a bit more detail... because it was a pretty interesting experience, definitely a drug induced moment that felt like psychosis for a split moment. Luckily there's nothing lingering from it.
Standing there washing dishes with Lindsey, prolly about midnight or so, and Lindsey is telling me about how her mom leaves so many cups out on the counter. I am feeling fuzzy, my brain fried from the dxm trip/in the comedown I feel sizzling, and my slow response is "she leaves coffee in some of the cups, about halfway..." and then I realize something is off with my response. At first I felt like it was genuinely a proper response. There was a song repeating in my mind at this time, something that felt like it was perfectly fitting for the mood,
Welcome to the Machine by Pink Floyd.
The rest of the panic attack can be described like being on a conveyor belt towards a pit in hell, heading towards what felt like "death", and on either side of the conveyor belt, were like "things" calling out behind prison bars. Imagine walking through a prison corridor with hands reaching out, telling you, "WELCOME" but in the most sick and twisted and at the same time depressed and tormented way. Beckoning my into the depths of hell.
The song continuied to repeat in my head, and it clicked that "Welcome to the machine" was, in my mind, a metaphor for being pulled into death. I looked around me, and everything was hollow. There was a certain disconnect, like I had floated out of my body, my "self" had poured out of my face, it really looked like my vision had fallen and was just sinking. There was no sense of self, I really did feel dead, but in such a cold, silent way, that was utterly terrifying.
Luckily it didn't last long, afterwards I was horribly shaken, apparently I'd been shaking and just looked really terrified.
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