I fearfully reach out with my right hand and, afraid of what I might find, I try to resist the temptation to clench my fist. With each centimetre I stretch comes a new level of terror. I reach further and further, shivering in anticipation of what I might find. Shivering allows me to feel the clothes I’m wearing and bringing with it the frightening realisation that I’m not wearing the jeans and shirt I was last night. I’m dressed in something quite different. I bring my hand back, from its outward reach, to touch my waist: it feels like a jacket. I slide it up to my neck. I feel fabric: it’s a bowtie. I’m in a suit. I rarely wear suits. Reluctantly I force my hand to resume its search for a clue to where I am. It’s an unspeakable dread, not to know what I might find. I reach out my hand. Thud. It hits something. I hesitantly stroke the

There is a roar, like the roar of a furnace that causes my heart to quicken, my lungs to race and my mind to panic. Tiring of this torture, I just want it to end. It’s hot. My God it’s hot! I begin to perspire; the air thins and I gasp for oxygen. My feet blaze, and suddenly I realise that this is no nightmare; this is no illusion. I scream in agony. Aware of the inferno approaching my feet, I start to convulse, fitting in a futile effort to break free from my constraint. Flames rupture the coffin that restrains me, and the foul smell of burning flesh is masked by the inevitability of death.

Was this real or imagined? I can’t make sense of any of this… unless… this is some drug-induced nightmare. Oh my God! What have I done? Something strange is happening now; I feel the sensation of being lifted. I close my eyes, too afraid to scream. I open my mouth but I’m unable to speak. I try to raise my arm but it’s lead. It’s no use. I’m powerless and petrified. I’m voiceless and unable to communicate this torture. On and on it continues, until eventually I’m rested down. I’d let out a sigh of relief if I were able to, but I’m not, I’m speechless. All I can do is lie here, helpless.

What was I thinking when I took that tablet? Now I’m paying the price of my stupidity with this drug-induced nightmare. What will my parents say? It’s at times like this that I wished I believed in God. Would he be able to help me now, I wonder. If any of my friends are ever thinking about being as foolish as I have been, I’ll try to stop them; before they put themselves through this. No matter what a good “trip” is like, it can’t be worth the risk of experiencing a bad one. I cannot fathom what I was thinking.

Some topics in this essay:
Thud Increasingly, Mum Dad, PAIN It’s, Oh God, God There’s, It’s I’m, I’m I’m, drug-induced nightmare, i’m moving rocking, loud thumping music, loud thumping, i’m wearing, oh god, i’m moving, friend try, thumping music, moving rocking, it’s hot, glasses water,