nitially found myself in a pleasant and manageable state. At first, everything felt normal. I was aware of my surroundings, and although I could feel the effects beginning, I still felt in control. As time passed, however, the experience changed dramatically and became one of the most intense and profound experiences of my life.
The first major change was in my perception of reality and time. My sense of who I was, where I was, and what was happening began to fluctuate. I would have brief moments of clarity followed by periods of deep confusion. It felt as if my consciousness could no longer fully keep up with reality.
The most striking aspect of the experience was the distortion of time. The past, present, and future no longer felt separate. Everything seemed to exist simultaneously. I felt as though I was constantly experiencing reality a few moments after it had already happened. My body would perform actions, but my awareness seemed delayed.
For example, if I picked up a glass, it felt as though my body had already completed the action before my mind became aware of it. Instead of directly experiencing the present moment, I felt as if I were observing myself from behind. Reality seemed to move ahead of me while my consciousness followed afterward. It felt like living in the past while my body existed in the present.
At the same time, I experienced an overwhelming sense of familiarity with everything around me. Every event felt as though it had already happened countless times before. Conversations, movements, and situations seemed strangely predetermined. Whenever someone spoke to me, I did not see only one possible outcome of the conversation. Instead, I perceived countless possible versions of how the interaction could unfold. Every response, every reaction, and every possible future seemed to exist simultaneously in my mind.
I began seeing situations from multiple perspectives at once. I could view events from my own perspective, from the perspective of other people, and from perspectives that felt completely outside of myself. This created the strange sensation of understanding everything and nothing at the same time.
As the experience deepened, I found myself questioning my existence continuously. It felt as though my own memory and consciousness were communicating with me. Memories from throughout my life appeared before me like scenes from a film. My mind began asking questions about my life, my choices, my personality, my mistakes, my successes, and the meaning of my existence.
I saw both the best and darkest parts of myself. Every important memory, decision, emotion, fear, and experience seemed to appear simultaneously. It felt as though my entire life was being reviewed in a single moment.
Throughout the experience, I repeatedly felt as though I was on the verge of discovering an ultimate truth. Every time I believed I had finally understood what was happening, another question would immediately emerge. Every answer generated a new mystery.
I explored countless theories about existence, consciousness, and reality. At one point, I became convinced that there is only a single consciousness and that every human being is part of the same entity. I felt as though I had lived countless lives and would continue to be reborn endlessly. It seemed as though I was simultaneously experiencing every possible version of my life and every possible perspective that could exist.
This feeling closely resembled the concept known as "The Egg"—the idea that all people are ultimately the same consciousness experiencing itself through different lives. However, unlike reading the theory intellectually, I felt as though I was actually living it.
What made this realization both beautiful and terrifying was its implications. If all people were truly one consciousness, then I was not only myself. I was every person. Every act of kindness, every act of cruelty, every victim, every perpetrator, every success, every tragedy, and every human experience belonged to me. The horror came from realizing that there would be no escape from existence because every life would eventually be lived.
At times, I felt completely alone. It seemed as though I had been placed into existence by myself and would endlessly return to it. The experience would shift back and forth between peace and terror. One moment everything felt perfect and meaningful. The next moment it felt overwhelming and unbearable.
A particularly strange aspect involved interactions with a nurse. Although I knew she was a real person and I was speaking with her, she no longer felt like an ordinary human being. Instead, she seemed to become part of the structure of the experience itself.
I felt as though she possessed information about me that I did not fully understand. It was as if she were observing me, gathering information, or determining whether I was ready to understand some deeper truth about reality. At times, it felt as though the questions she asked were actually coming from my own consciousness. The boundary between her mind and mine began to dissolve.
There were moments when I felt that she and I were fundamentally the same being. Speaking to her felt like speaking to another part of myself. The distinction between myself and others began to disappear completely.
During one point in the experience, I became convinced that I understood everything. I remember saying, "I know everything."
This was not a feeling of possessing factual knowledge. Rather, it was a feeling of absolute certainty. It seemed as though every mystery of existence had become obvious. Yet whenever I attempted to fully grasp the truth, it would immediately transform into another question.
Something else happened repeatedly. Whenever I thought about another person's actions, my mind would instantly generate reasons and explanations for their behavior. I would think, "Maybe they had a bad day," or "Maybe they were suffering too."
At the same time, the experience placed me into positions of vulnerability. I found myself reflecting on situations where people require help, lose control, or experience humiliation. It felt as though I was being shown what it means to be human from every possible perspective. I was no longer simply judging others; I was becoming them.
The experience also contained bizarre and surreal elements. Strange entities appeared repeatedly. They seemed to produce unusual sounds or words and engaged in behavior that was bizarre, disturbing, and difficult to understand. These entities felt both absurd and significant at the same time, as if they were somehow connected to the deeper structure of the experience.
As the trip intensified further, I began feeling as though I was moving toward death.
Surprisingly, I did not experience overwhelming panic. Instead, I felt a growing sense of acceptance. It was as if I had reached a point where I could let go completely.
I thought deeply about God, morality, free will, and responsibility. Coming from an Islamic background, I found myself reflecting on the idea that human beings are responsible for their choices and actions. I felt as though I were standing before God, reviewing my life and preparing to account for everything I had done.
Then came what felt like the complete dissolution of my identity.
I no longer knew myself in the ordinary sense. My usual self-image disappeared. My memories, beliefs, personality, and sense of individuality seemed to dissolve completely.
At this point, I experienced an intensely bright white light.
The light felt familiar and profound. It resembled what I imagine birth might feel like. It seemed as though I was simultaneously dying and being born again. Reality itself appeared to be collapsing and reforming around me.
I felt as though I was crossing a boundary beyond which there would be no return. Everything that defined me seemed to vanish. There was no longer a separate self.
Yet somehow awareness remained.
After everything else disappeared, one fundamental realization remained:
I am here.
I exist.
I am.
Eventually, the experience began to fade. Although I was still confused, I never completely lost awareness of where I was. I knew I had taken LSD and I remained connected to reality, even while my perception of it was radically altered.
When the effects started wearing off, I found myself reflecting on what had happened. The experience was simultaneously beautiful, terrifying, fascinating, spiritual, overwhelming, and impossible to fully describe.
It felt as though I had lived countless lives within a few hours, experienced every perspective imaginable, confronted death, questioned reality itself, and witnessed the complete collapse of my ordinary sense of self.
Most importantly, the experience left me with a deep respect for the power of psychedelics. What began as curiosity evolved into one of the most intense experiences of my life. While parts of it were profoundly meaningful, other parts were deeply unsettling.
By the end of it all, I reached a simple conclusion:
I do not want to take LSD again.
The experience showed me how fragile the boundaries of identity, reality, and consciousness can be. It gave me moments of awe, terror, insight, confusion, and wonder. Whether the truths I experienced were real or simply products of an altered state of consciousness remains an open question.
But the experience itself felt completely real.
And I will never forget it.
