I dropped a hit of some fine, smooth LSD and curled up under my jacket on the couch to ponder the Mystery of Existence. So I went back to the couch, curled up in a ball and retraced the long and complicated process. This time I firmly burnt the information into my mind and promised I would write this important stuff down. I got up to find something to write with, got distracted again and had to start all over. After three or four times through the process I gave up, figuring that I would someday repeat the process without chemical aids.
Life has a bad habit of getting in the way.
Knowing I was there and had to come back is my worst bad trip. But knowing the pathway exists somewhere in my brain makes me hope for a flashback. What I get from the stories so far is the same as I learned for myself good people in good environments make for good trips. I had a bad trip at my favorite place in the world Burning Man. I've tripped on acid and 'shrooms more than a few times in my 27 years.