Some thirty years ago, 12th April 1985, my stint at Ohio State came to an abrupt end. I was enrolled for five quarters. Of the classes i took, I remember little. As I look back at that year, I think of anything but academic interaction. College was for me, as Fagan and Becker wrote in “Reelin’ In the Years”, a brief weekend.
“The weekend at the college – Didn’t turn out like you planned “
Weekend turned to weekday which turned again back to weekends. Essentially we lived the same everyday. This Friday promised much. Most of the fraternities up and down 15th Avenue were hosting parties. 15th Avenue was to be swarming with people. We tapped the kegs as soon as they were wheeled off the truck. Burgers, brats, and dogs began cooking on the grill. The scents of spring mingled with smoke from grill. The feel was full and earthy. Drinking, dates, parties, golf, and bars, we thought it was the life.
Fraternity Row was bursting with life. Thousands of people were wandering up and down 15th Avenue, stopping here and there to grab a beer or bite. Late afternoon faded to twilight and we were standing around the house porch. A friend came out, grabbed a beer, and sat down. I learned that a large number of the people walking around the campus and 15th avenue had taken lysergic acid diethylamide. I have heard of lsd, but I had never seen it. I was hesitant. We often hesitate when venturing into the unknown. Calling it a trip began to make sense. A trip is like a vacation, a new experience for the mind. Just as a trip or vacation takes our bodies to a new place, lsd take the mind to a new place. Hayward’s “The Other Side of Life” fits the atmosphere preceding the nights activity.
Baby, baby, baby, let’s investigate –The other side of life tonight – The lovers and the fighters – And the risks they take – Are on the other side of life tonight – Let’s loose our way – Go completely astray – And find ourselves again – You know the only way to get there – Is to take that step – To the other side of life tonight”
Back to the porch, I was talking to a couple girls and began to feel sticky. The interpretation that of caterpillars, with their little suction cups, crawling up and down. It was not pleasant. Luckily, It passed quickly. Then I felt wetness. I started thinking somehow I had peed my pants. I was thoroughly embarrassed. Quickly, I decided to pour some of my beer on my pants, an awkward attempt to cover my socially unacceptable behavior. As I began to pour the beer I jumped up. I realized my pants were dry, except where I spilt the beer. I was experiencing hallucinations. I excused myself and walked off to change.
About 30 minutes later I found myself walking around campus, visiting various parties. Then I found myself looking at a porch light for about half an hour, before returning to our house party. When I got back, I filled my beer and joined a group of people drinking beer in the house library.
The library left a mark on me. The room felt old fashion, it always made me think of the industrial revolution. The shadows on the walls had hard edges. Slowly the shadows began to move like the machinery of the industrial age. As I sat there, looking at those shadowy industrial gears, everything fit together. Like the gears on the map of the trailer to the Game of Thrones, it all made sense.
As I was considering the functioning, the air became sticky. I looked around, people were loosing composure. Then all the sudden, like a slap in the face, the room was covered in sticky blood. I was covered in warm sticky blood. Every person in the room was locked into the same gore. I watched oscillating between observation and participation. The guy next to me asked if I was a dream weaver. I had no idea what he was talking about. He said, “With a strong enough will one could weave the direction of the environment
I thought of the beach….
When I left the room there was no terror, all was peaceful. They were like pacified dufflepuds out of C.S. Lewis’ Narnia. Robert Jordan’s Wheel of Time series has a place which acts in the same manner, Tel’aran’rhiod, the world of dreams. In Tel’aran’rhiod a strong will can change anything within the dream. The stronger will rules.
I went outside to walk around. Across the street, about 150 feet away, I saw a man. For some reason, I thought I knew him. We walked toward each other. Slowing for a moment, I looked at him again. Then I remembered, earlier someone had tried to introduced me to him. Something repelled me. I was repulsed by something in him. I would not shake his hand. He was a self to whom I wanted to remain unconnected. Without reason, we shifted our courses and drifted by each other.
It was time to conclude this trip and return to the frat house.
I’m getting closer to my home. Everybody, listen to me, and return me, my ship. I’m your captain, I’m your captain, though I’m feeling mighty sick. I’ve been lost now, days uncounted, and it’s months since, I’ve seen home.
When I got back, I was invited by friend to smoke, “in order to take off the edge.” His room was a calm harbor. We were in his room for a bit when two women and photographer joined us. The woman seemed like their trade was the street. As I began to consider this impromptu visit, I turned to find one of the women had began to remove her shirt. The photographer smiled and said, “this will be one of those nights I can not remember a thing, but wake up with a roll of film.” Many concerns filled my mind. I left.
As I walked down the stairs there were three good looking girls at the bottom of the stairs. They were in some playful conversation. I felt like Hylas drawn by nymphs. I was enticed, but I walked into the night.
At this point I was seeing little life. Though the spring was full of life, my environment faded. Night was revealed in moving shadow, the movement had no reason. Silhouettes of bare branches and trunks remained. I wanted to go to my parents house, I wanted my room.
I call my parents to come get me. It was done with school, the experiment was over. Back in 1983 cell phones were not around, I had to walk to the corner of 15th and High and use the pay phone. The Long’s clock above my head marked the time with blinking bulbs. My first attempt to call my parents was unsuccessful. Finally, I was able to make the call, it was 3:13, my parents were on the way. On the dark corner, I was alone. Minutes seemed like days. Two men and a woman walked north on High Street. As they past, I noticed a symbiotic group of movements, It was surreal to observe. It was like watching some atypical communion.
As I was attempting to put this triad into perspective, I was befuddled by another. Wearing ritual robes, a group, walked by me hands in chains, chains connected to one to another. The 13 figures stopped in a line and waited for the crossing light to change. The light changed and they proceeded to the oval, toward the main library. What ritual was this? Again, minutes seemed liked hours. It was 3:31 and my parents arrived. Sammy, our Brittany spaniel was in the back seat, she was happy to be out.
My parents concern was an understandable. I called them, woke them up, and asked them to come get me. They asked what was going on. I let them know that I had not been going to class. I told them about how I had been going to parties and bars instead. I let them know I was on acid. I remember my father saying something along the lines of, some people go crazy after lsd. I thought about a friend whose brother just sat around not thinking nor interacting with others.
Then a roulette wheel began to spin.
I saw one picture after another. This was a night of choices. I felt like Faust or Charlie Daniels’ ‘Johnny’. I could choose to live any life, I wanted. I would succeed. Like red and black, there were two choices on the wheel. Successful careers began dropping off and in their place, the perception of Jesus alternating and then a bleak dismal dark existence. The wheel went on turning, it did not stop on its own. I was to decide where it would stop. By the time we got home, Christ was seen on all of one color and a deep void on the other. I had only one choice that made sense, one choice that would lead to life.
I believed in Jesus from a young age. I believed I had invited Him into my heart. This was different, eternal salvation was not the end. I was not meant to live for me, but to live for God? The question I needed to answer was, would I live for God or live for me? I think my mother asked what I was afraid of. I said, “dying apart from Christ.” I felt the need to pray a prayer of repentance. I meant the prayer with every emotion in me. Yet, I could say nothing.
Then my mother led me in prayer, one word at a time. I could not say more than one word at a time, though I meant them. Word by word I completed the prayer. I had asked Jesus to guide my life, the way He wanted. From that point, I have not doubted my position in Christ. Without delay, three things changed. I became extremely peaceful. The psychedelic effects of lsd completely ended, and I can still hear the birds that began their morning greetings. It was 4:30 am.
My dad suggested I try to sleep. In my mind, I thought “fat chance.” I was no longer tripping, but I was very much speeding. So much for that, I fell asleep in minutes. At 6:30 my father woke me. I was rested but had no time to get my uniform together. I had forgotten or didn’t care that it was my reserve weekend. While I was asleep, my dad had gotten my uniform together and shined my shoes. An egg and bacon were waiting on the table.
It was a changing point, a point that dramatically changed the direction of my life. I arrived at my reserve unit on time morning muster, a new day had begun, new in more than one way. The staff sergeant pulled me aside. I was thinking, “I am in trouble now?” I was wrong, it was the opposite. She asked me to lead training,
It was a new day, a day that continues.