Rants ‘n Raves by a Nuyorican Who Calls Herself Bennie

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The Night I Took LSD: The Memory A Little Illusive

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The night I took LSD
By Benilda Pacheco Beretta

I was ripe and eager to leave my body.
After all I was seventeen and did not fear my mortality or consequences of my actions. I took the dive in the summer of 1969. I was not alone. We chose not to be alone. Call it our own experiment…our own journey to whatever. I was not afraid when I was handed a small piece of paper no bigger then the tip of my pinky finger. We all looked at each other, nodded and slipped the piece of paper onto our tongues. And we waited what seemed to be forever. It was a slow start. I began noticing my friend’s red sweater. The red seemed to change into pink and then fuschia and then back to crimson red. We looked at each other and began an uncontrollable laughter, but we did not know why. The others were oblivious to one another just staring into space, smiling and making inaudible sounds. The colors were intense and melding into each other. We decided to go outside and walk, just to experience our surroundings with each other. It was dark when we came to the woods, but that did not stop us from stepping into this dark unknown. Our senses were acute because we could hear the crickets as if they were ten feet tall. Scared? Perhaps, but we were together and we wanted to go on…..
We walked and walked soaking in our surroundings. Feeling with our whole being in a constant state of flux. We gazed at the stars as they winked their iridescent response of delight. The climax of our trip brought us to the tennis courts. We began to volley back and forth with the green tennis balls moving slowly through the air leaving trails of colorful shoots of psychedelic wonder. The trees around us were bursting with life as the wind brushed against the leaves. I just sat down and watched my friends as they played the game. The colors were never the same and that was the beauty of this wonderful adventure. We were beginning to feel the end of our journey. We walked back to campus and had breakfast in the cafeteria. We ate without saying a word. We knew that we came out of this trip unscathed, and we were lucky. I went to my room and slept for about fourteen hours. The journey left me drained. The following week there was a rumor that a young girl fell to her death. A trip gone bad. We never spoke of that night again even though we shared an experience that would become part of our memory of the
60s.

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Written by Benilda Pacheco Beretta

January 31, 2011 at 11:07 am

Posted in Uncategorized

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