LSD SESSION - Trip Report 1, IFAS-102
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Those who are privileged to undergo LSD are in some measure 20th century lotus eaters, or perhaps, inhabitants of Nirvana since within the experience there is no time.  Therefore, the chronology of these impressions is the result of hindsight and but a poor vehicle this is at best.

I approached the Institute with all the trepidation of an early Christian, who knowing that he walked only to the amphitheatre and certain physical doom yet was compelled.  I comforted myself with the reflection that even this day must pass, only so many hours to endure and then finis.  So, like a lamb to the slaughter went I.

I entered and was warmly received by these my good friends in whose company would I journey, Myron, Paul, Goldie, Dr. Sherwood, and Pamela all were there.  We talked of this and that, in that delightful room, and I was surprised to learn that Pamela knew my home town in England quite well.  The drug was brought in, in a handsome silver flagon, set with some semi-precious stones.  A draft of clear water or so it appeared, and I took up the cup and drained it.  "What happens now?" I thought, as the conversation continued.  Quite soon thereafter I began to notice several things happening.  I could not easily encompass the whole group within my attention, it required an effort of will to participate lucidly in the general conversation.  My peripheral vision was becoming restricted.  If I looked at Paul the others present lost all focus and outline definition.  I was able to read from the "Imitation of Christ" during this period and the beautiful words of Thomas A Kempis seemed to soothe my fears; I felt that I must declaim them faultlessly, to do less would be a profanation!  So I tried, and shortly thereafter, having advised my friends that I was becoming affected by the drug, I was able to lie down.

"We have music to help you" said Paul and placed a headset over my ears, while Myron adjusted a black velvet cloth over my eyes.  My eyelids closed, and I surrendered myself to the enchanting melody, a river of sound such as defies description.  I knew that it was created by Fred Waring and the Pennsylvanians, yet I thought "How delightful that they have brought a symphony orchestra and a choir of angels into the room just for me," and I laughed aloud just for the joy of it.  Soon the laughter changed to tears, not of sorrow, but of sheer emotion that such beauty was captured within the melody, and was mine to enjoy.  Never have I experienced such tonal depth, such that every fibre of my being vibrated in ecstasy.  Such emotion could not be contained within me tightly girded so I loosened by belt. It seems now that the closing of the selection was patriotic, and I felt humble to discover that all this was America and I was part of it, I was so moved by gratitude that I