The Deceptive Natural High: Excerpt from Chasing Dreams on a Treadmill

The dealer man was shirtless when we strolled through the door; he was a skinny bearded man, and friendly at that. I introduced myself, immediately extending my hand to show I was a friendly, "Hey man, I'm Joe." In Jersey most dealers coming face to face with someone they have never seen before would immediately put up their defenses, but the attitude was different out west and it was a welcomed change from the paranoid mentality of the east.

"What's going on man, I'm Dan and that's Chris," he said as he pointed towards a husky fellow sitting in a red chair just out of my peripheral field of vision. "So are you Dan's friend from back home?"

"Yeah, we drove in from Des Moines yesterday. It was a pretty dull ride, but we had music and weed so it was fine."

He chuckled slightly, "That always seems to make things better. So where you guys heading?"

"After we leave here we're going to San Francisco to visit some more friends who jumped the Jersey ship, and then onto Yosemite and possibly back here."

"You'll have a good time in San Fran, it's a great city, but you're looking for shrooms, right?"

I smiled and repositioned myself on the couch as I placed the bowl that we were smoking back on the table. "Yeah something around an eighth, and if you have it, we are looking to snag either a quarter or a half zip of bud for our ride to San Fran."

He got up to go grab the mushrooms, and replied as he walked towards the back room, "Right now I'm dry as far as to sell, but have Mike or Dan give me a call when you are getting ready to leave."

I turned back around, now facing Chris who didn't hesitate to keep the conversation going, "So you guys having fun in Frisco?"

"Yeah it is a lot more laid back than back home. I couldn't believe it when Mike told me he got caught with a half and only got an $80 fine."

Chris tapped the ash from the bowl, "You don't believe it at first; that is until something happens, but we can't complain."

At that moment Mike and Dan came out of the back room in a conversation themselves.

"Dude I was flying down the hill over by the post office on my way over to the apartment and I went right over my handle bars. Fucked my ribs up good, that's why I didn't show up; I came back here to lay down." said Dan.

Mike laughed with a slight stoner twang, "Man that's rough, but hey, it could've been worse."

"Yeah, I suppose so. Yo Joe here are the shrooms my friend."

Chris jutted in as I was handed the bag, "They are some good stuff. I ate an eighth last night and tripped my balls off."

"That's always good." I then turned my attention to Dan, "How much? $35?"

"Yeah that will cover it."

I handed him the money and me and Mike were back on the road after a quick goodbye bong pack. But the ride this time left me with another dangerous element sitting in my jean pocket. The booze had leveled out and my head was clear as I kept the speedometer directly on the required speed. My driving was sure to please any driving instructor as I obeyed every law of the road--with the exception of one--and returned safely to Scanny's apartment. There were two new faces when I got back, but I grabbed a Tommy Knocker Maple Nut Brown Ale and began chewing on the mushrooms as conversations bounced around the room. I looked up from my small Ziploc bag that was home to a little more than an eighth and saw Mark staring me down. "You gonna' eat all that?" asked Mark.

"Well I plan on it, but do you want a little?" I said holding the bag towards Mark.

Pat chimed in from the side, "Hey if you are giving them out you mind if I grab a pinch?"

I had already swallowed a gram or so, and was beginning to feel the changes taking place so I reached into my bag and grabbed a decent sized pinch for myself. As I shoved the shrooms in my mouth like a pitcher positioning a wad of dip, I simultaneously handed the remaining amount to Mark and Pat who quickly forced them down. Another one of Scanny's roomies, Chet, grabbed my attention.

"Yo dude you feeling those yet?" Chet said.

"Well I was feeling the beer and weed before, but I feel different now. Things are beginning to look like ovals, in fact, I feel like I am sitting in a round room. So yes I am feeling them."

Chet laughed encouragingly, "Hell yea dude."

Mike began talking to me, and while I had a reply to everything he said, the room started to swirl. I found myself lying down on the floor, chatting briefly with people as I observed the environment that was seemingly spinning around me. Everyone had a smile on their face, a beer in their hand, and there was a thick white fog that floated around the apartment. Overwhelmed by the general good vibes I broke out in manic laughter that spread throughout the room as everyone turned their attention in my direction. With no end in sight to my outburst of breath taking laughter I tried to speak, but an incoherent garble of misplaced words came out.

"I....it's like....my face is frozen...but it feels good...ah good...indeed"

"Let it out dude, let it out" said Chet.

Finally after 5 minutes of fierce laughter I regained control and relocated to the couch where a spot had recently opened up. Mark looked at me with a smile on his face and chuckled before saying, "So how do you do it? Every time I eat shrooms I get bugged out" he said.

"Sometimes you have to talk yourself down. Remind yourself it's the drugs, think positive" I said.

"I try, but it just doesn't work"

"I don't know. I guess I am just one of those people who were made for psychedelics. I have never had a bad trip. Even strange events are fun to me. I'm not normal"

"You can say that again" he said with a smug smile.

"So are you feeling anything from what you ate?" I asked.

"Eh a little buzz, but I didn't eat that much."

At that moment one of the new faces that had arrived while I was gone was getting up to leave. He came over to say goodbye to those on the couch, and as Mark was shaking his hand he said something that was so strange, so out of place that I went from a pleasant functional state to my previous condition, which was similar to someone who had just inhaled a large amount of laughing gas.

"That's a nice jacket you got there" said Mark.

Caught off guard by the odd statement the average looking man replied, "Ugh...thanks."

I looked over with an inquiring look on my face, "Who says that?" In a mocking tone I continued, "That's a nice jacket."

Mark's faced turned red as he shook his head left and right as he began to laugh. At this point I was already fully engulfed, struggling to breathe as I broke down in a laughing fit that again spread through the room like a Southern Californian wild fire.

After the laughter died down and the room emptied out a bit, I found myself lying on Scanny's air mattress with my iPod on. Jimi Hendrix was blasting from my headphones as I wiggled about like a pig in shit. And like a pig in shit I was happy and life was good as evidenced by the giant smile on my face. I laid alone for about 40 minutes just until I got my musical fix and immediately returned to the living room for a smoke session and a beer. It is easy to understand why one falls into a serious drug addiction. Being under the influence of any narcotic (including the legal ones such as alcohol, caffeine, sugar, gingko biloba and so on) is a spiritual and profound event regardless of whether it is pleasant or chaotic. You come out of each experience a slightly different person, for good or ill. But I never wanted to be a drug addict, which is why I refrain from using the likes of cocaine, heroin, meth, and anything else where the high isn't worth the inevitable outcome. Yet I can understand what draws people to a life that is the constant pursuit of a high regardless of the means in which it is achieved.

And after all maybe I am an addict to some degree. Everything I do is in pursuit of a high. This trip for instance was just that. I was in search of something that I knew couldn't be found anywhere near home, but I knew that it would bring me an overwhelming feeling of euphoria, and I got chills of anticipation just thinking about it. Ah the chills are back just mentioning the idea of the illusive natural high. Some people claim to know the secret to that natural rush of chemicals and maybe they do, but for the most part they are embellishing about that one time where they felt like they were floating on air, not knowing why, but not questioning it either. Once you experience a truly pure rush, free of any drug you hold onto that moment forever because you know that same feeling will never come again. Sure you might find yourself riding high again, but that first natural euphoria is a glorious sensation that will completely overhaul your perspective on life from that moment on. And that is why it is easy to understand why one becomes so afflicted by a horrible drug addiction--they don't realize that the one moment where heaven seems real will never come again until they push their habit too far and find themselves looking at the bright light off in the distance, unable to reach it.

Thankfully for myself I never moved towards that light, but simply stared at it and smiled knowing that one day I will be able to bask in it. Until then I'll take what I can get and be happy that I was there for the ride. The ride me and my pals were on was sure to bring us all smiles among many other things. The night of drinking, smoking, and shrooming at the halfway point of our trip was a good time that none of us will forget anytime soon. It wasn't until the beer was gone that everyone decided it was time for bed. Since I went back for another listening session I was in the room when the lights turned on and Mark, Pat, and Scanny looked at me, laughed and said, "JD fucking Stylez." I pulled my headphones off and suggested a bedtime bowl pack between 4 long time pals, but they were already one step ahead of me as Scanny pulled out a packed bowl from under his clammy little hand.

I sat Indian style on my sleeping bag as we formed a circle in the tiny apartment room. We reminisced about the times we spent back home when we were younger and much crazier. Things were different then. There was no fear of being arrested, no fear at all. Once you hit the ripe age of 18 you find yourself faced with a decision. And that is the decision to either give into the wishes of society or hang onto the misfit lifestyle. When it comes down to it most young kids are total outcasts running wild, which is why you often hear the reformed children or adults talk so harshly about them. Nonetheless, our actions on that chilly Colorado night would surely get a slew of negative reactions from the reformed members of society. This trip in general would not be viewed with praise by those who find comfort in the regulations of government; as in their eyes we ran through the country like drunken barbarians out to rape and pillage whatever settlement we came across.

Righty-O, we were freedom fighters pushing forward in the name of something that might die horribly in the next few decades. And with all these churlish descriptions, we came in peace knowing that the only true way to survive in this world was not to obey man's law, but to understand that those who respect the freedom of others will in turn have their own freedom secured. In other terms karma was our governing force as we passed through the turf of different tribes. We were ambassadors of fun, and that was our only real responsibility.