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Is There Life After Death?

by It's All Golden

I use to be normal, I swear. I was a good kid, got good grades, excelled at a few things, had friends, the whole lot. I smoked pot and opened myself to a whole new side of life, or so I thought. I never imagined it would get much more scary or crazier, funnier, or more fun (period) than being stoned. Then I took acid, and I got sent into a world filled with a whole different set of laws, thoughts, and experiences. I can't describe in full effect how it's changed my brain, or really what it's even done to me. But I know I'm different because of it. I've often thought maybe it was just the experiences and how I reacted to those experiences that changed me, but I can't say that. It was the acid.

One such event happened when I was about 19 and ½. Three dudes (Ronnie, Matt and Dougie) that I grew up with showed up at my apartment one night. Ronnie and Matt had dated two of my best friends in high school, so I had been close friends with them. Plus we all grew up in the same small rural community. Earlier in the night I had eaten 15 hits of blotter. I had a habit of eating a lot of acid at the time. I was living with my boyfriend and a couple that had taken us in. The guy, Bill, was tripping with my boyfriend and myself (his "old lady" wasn't into doing anything except the occasional toke off a doobie or couple of drinks). We had all settled in for a fun night at home; the "old lady" was at work, so we could have fun freely and run about the house until she got home after working third shift at the gas station. About 20 minutes before the infamous knock on the door, I had eaten ten more hits.

The three of us were sitting in the living room watching The Wall when the knocking started. We all just looked at each other, waiting for one of the others to answer the door. Finally I was asked to answer it. I find Ronnie standing there. After a short chit-chat session (standing in the doorway, I was being paranoid and didn't want him in the apartment) he asks, "Wanna go burn one? Matt and Doug are outside." I thought cool, sure. I figured I'd go burn one with a few old friends, no harm done. I asked my boyfriend if he was coming along, he replied that no he wouldn't be joining us. I followed Ronnie out into the starry night, across the lawn, and finally into the car. It seemed like miles before we were sitting amongst the other two guys.

After catching up with Matt and Dougie, I asked them to "fire it up." All three looked at me with these huge grins and Ronnie replied, "We get high in a new way now." At that point they all pulled these very large, silver crucifix necklaces out from underneath their shirts. Matt quickly pulled a bible out of the console of the car and laid it in his lap. I stared blankly, mouth gapping, mind spinning at what was before my eyes.

They proceed to tell me that they had been saved. I told them I was tripping and to stop fucking with me (they had a habit of doing that in high school when I was high, messing with my head, especially when a black light was involved). Then I got a grip and realized that they were serious, as they were telling me how they "loved" me and didn't want my soul to be tortured for eternity. I still didn't believe this; the three biggest partiers I grew up with telling me how it would all be okay as soon as I asked for forgiveness and gave my life and soul over to the protection of Jesus Christ. It was like they were trying to do an exorcism or something (that was the level of total freakiness).

I asked to be let out of the car, to no avail. A blur went by and I realized we were moving. I tried my hardest to get the door open and jump out, but I couldn't as it was a two-door sedan and I was in the back seat. Next thing I know, we are at Ronnie's uncle's house in my hometown; he's a Pentecostal preacher. The said uncle was not home, but his wife was there. By the time we pulled in their driveway, I had been exhausted with the talk they were spewing at me. I thought anything would be better than being in that car. I was in a brainwashed state and followed them right inside the house. They sat down in the living room while I sat, knees to my chest and rocking, in the corner, as they held a bible study. They attempted to talk to me, or at me, but I was just completely drained. I don't know how long we were at that house, but I eventually came to my senses (sort of, how clear can one think on 25 hits really). So I decided I'd walk home. I then spent 3 hours walking on the railroad tracks to get home, and that was very scary. Luckily I had spent many hours walking along those same tracks, night and day, and knew them very well. The prospect of getting hit by a train seemed trivial compared to what I was being subjected to with this lot of freaks.

I finally made it home, walked straight through the living room (bypassing Bill and my boyfriend) without saying a word. I went to our bedroom, sat on the bed and reached into the nightstand and pulled out the bible. I was just opening it when my boyfriend entered and started asking me questions. Where had I been, what the hell happened, etc. All I replied was, "I have to read the bible, and you should read it too." To wit he responded, "I've read the bible, what the fuck happened to you tonight." I continued to search the biblical words for salvation as he exasperatedly fled the room. Not too many moments passed and he was back stating, "Where is my girlfriend, and what have YOU done to her?" - as if I were a pod person, not in any way the same young woman that had left him sitting in the living room some many hours prior. That was the point when he realized I'd been through hell; it may have been the terrified expression I could feel on my face, the crazed look in my eyes, or the utter helplessness I felt throughout every living cell, but either way he talked me through the ending of the worst night I'd ever had in my life, up to that point in time. Little did I know that about a week later I'd end up dead and stuck in purgatory, which still stands as the most horrific night of my life.

After the night of what I refer to as "the kidnapping," I had nightmares for a few years and the horrible threesome hounded me to go to church. About two years after the incident, curiosity got the better of me and I went (after they promised to take me to lunch, anywhere I wanted to go). I thought maybe I could forgive and forget and by giving what I thought to be a huge gesture of my forgiveness, I went. I had to leave the church service about half way through. I sat outside through the remainder. Then we went to Taco Bell. I had the taste of tacos and tried my hardest to drown all my memories, of what they had put me through, in the refried beans and sour cream.