This happened to me two years ago when I tripped on LSD alone at home. Maybe you’ll enjoy the story or even relate to it:

I’ve always been a very creative person, able to visualize things clearly. I like to simulate situations, sometimes even conversations, in my head. It’s a gift but also a curse because it’s hard for me to silence my thoughts. LSD amplifies that.

During my peak, I felt a bit hungry, so I went inside the house to grab some of the meal I had prepared earlier. The music playing was a psychill set, endlessly flowing, without any clear highs or lows. It felt like a continuous cycle where you couldn’t tell where one song ended and another began. As I ate and gazed out the window, I started to daydream.

I began imagining a second version of myself, just doing normal stuff, cleaning the house, listening to the same music, also on acid, in a parallel universe. It was fun to watch myself like this, so I decided to push further, imagining a third version of me, this time outside in the garden, looking up at the sky. Normally, this is where my imagination reaches its limit, but not this time.

I kept going, trying to simulate as many versions of myself as I could, all while doing normal things, like eating my meal. One version was dancing to the music. Another was chilling on the couch. Soon, I could see all of them vividly, like watching eleven movies on eleven screens at the same time. But I wasn’t just watching, I was living each life simultaneously. In one reality, I was studying medicine and nearing the point of becoming a full doctor. In another, I had earned my master’s degree in computer science. One version of me had kids already, another had many friends, one was single, and another felt lonely because he was alone. And then there was the real me, making twelve in total—each one me, and yet, somehow, not me.

But then, things took a turn. After a while, I got so confused and lost complete contact with reality. I couldn’t tell which version of reality was mine anymore. I thought that the me who was eating was just another imagined version, or maybe I had somehow switched places with one of the other versions. I wandered through my house, looking at photos on the walls, trying to remind myself who this version of me was.

I saw my family in those pictures, my beautiful wife who has been with me since we were 18. I saw my friends, memories captured in the frames. I felt an overwhelming sense of gratitude for this version of my life. Then, I went outside and sat in the sun, my mind racing, trying to make sense of what I had just experienced. I still wasn’t sure if I was in my own reality.

But I remembered the gratitude I felt when I saw the photos of my life. And I decided that it didn’t matter. If I was here now, this reality—this life—was one of the most beautiful I could imagine for myself. It felt rich, full, and real. So, I chose to embrace it and enjoy the moment. It didn’t matter if it was just an imagination or real.

When my wife came home later, she noticed that I seemed different, lighter, somehow relieved. She asked me how my day was, and I just smiled and told her it was beautiful, that I had really enjoyed the trip. She was happy for me. For me, it was like I was seeing her for the first time in my life while also knowing her face so well.

To this day, I still don’t know if I truly changed realities or if it was all just a creation of my mind. But since then, I’ve felt a deep sense of gratitude for the life I was given, with all its ups and downs.

Thanks for reading.
Love to you all.