At this point in our narrative it seems to me to be of the utmost importance to make it clear that although ketamine has played an important role in our ever-deepening relationship, it was not the factor which brought us together or which has held us together. Our real concern with the therapeutic uses of this substance came only after our marriage. Our ketamine capers were not so much an impetus toward our union as a reward for the hard work and faith that had brought us to this place in our lives.
Our first joint ketamine session took place in a spacious upstairs room of the house in "Sherwood Forest." As Howard made the preparations I took the phone off the hook and lay against the bed pillows, wondering where in the universe I would go this time. Since I had neglected to take note of the dose received at Jane's house a year and a half earlier, Howard suggested that we start off with fifty milligrams. Compared with the massive quantities administered for anesthetic purposes this did not seem an excessive amount. However, we were soon to discover that it was enough to send the mind rocketing into an orbit where it becomes temporarily incommunicado. Since that time we have gradually reduced our dosages seldom going above twenty-five milligrams.
Howard was thoroughly professional in his preliminary examination, taking my pulse and blood pressure and swabbing my arm with an alcohol pad after injecting the needle painlessly into the muscle of my upper right arm. He explained that one of the reasons ketamine is used mainly with children is because it raises the blood pressure; hence it is contraindicated in cases of hypertension. Remembering the whirling hurricane of the mind through which I had previously hurtled the caution seemed justified.
Now, for the sake of consistency in describing this and subsequent ketamine trips, we will try to describe each session as it happened and then append more detailed commentaries.
Session 2
Approximately one minute after the injection I became aware of a tingling warmth and a sense of relaxed well being. Next came the puttering, racheting whir of rising vibrations as though soft wood were being cut by a revolving saw blade. Like a feather in a wind tunnel my mind was propelled back into that same spinning humming matrix of creation that I had known before. There was one quick thought of a gyrating serpent undulating sinuously with his tail in his mouth. Then this fleeting image was swallowed up in the infinitely strange, yet infinitely familiar realm of pure being that remains as it has ever been, yet constitutes the essence of all change.
"Home again!" I recall saying over and over. "I'm home again." Then there was only the letting go, the uncoupling of a myriad of thread-like fastenings, the snapping of clinging masses of attachments, and the forcible yet merciful relinquishing of all conceivable hopes, demands, ideals, or expectations. As my consciousness continued to spiral out through this wordless realm it became impossible, as well as pointless, to speak. The feelings were too deep to communicate, even to myself.
In this and subsequent ketamine voyages my impression was one of making the circuit of a vast multidimensional wheel. Each time as I started the return journey back to normal bodily awareness something in me would reach out to Howard.
"Howard." I repeated the name and the syllables shone forth in space like a glowing crown of light.
"Howard." Now the crown flared into a sunburst of radiating golden streamers. There was an absolutely perfect coincidence of name and form. Later I realized that this cross-connection between sound and sight was an example of synesthesia-the subjective sensation of the unity of auditory and visual stimuli. Never before had I possessed this gift.
"Howard, flower, power." I kept on chanting the words, watching the equivalent images blossom forth. It was like being the virtuoso of a color organ of concomitant vibratory frequencies, shapes, and feelings.
"Howard, flower." Now the spell was raying forth in a multi-hued canticle, a garland of love woven with bands of light. Drifting off again I saw Howard's face looking down at me and thought that he was God. Not just a mundane plane manifestation of the divine spirit in the Vedantic sense but the Lord God Himself as He might have stepped forth from the Old Testament. Dimly I began to realize that Howard was really a man I had met somewhere, but it still seemed as though this was how God ought to look-bearded, somewhat austere, with eyes of love and understanding.
This association seemed intensely meaningful because I had long been bothered by the fact that I really wasn't especially fond of God. Not only did I find it hard to love Him, in view of the apparent imperfections of His universe I wasn't even sure that I liked Him very much. Yet the scriptures proclaimed that we were supposed to pay homage to that stranger in the sky.
Up to this point I had virtually abdicated from the word "God," preferring terms like "Creative Intelligence" and "Supreme Being." But now, seeing how nice He looked in human form, I felt with relief that we might become great lovers after all. For the first time I understood why Hindu women are enjoined to worship their husbands. If they could see them in this guise it might not be so bad…
The next ten minutes or so, during which I drifted back to the "I" and "thou" duality of the terrene world were the most emotionally intense part of the experience. During this interlude I had the unquestioning conviction that every one of the three trillion or so cells of my body was being melted down and reminted with Howard's initials upon it. My flesh felt like soft wax being prepared for a stamp, after which it would become marble again, etched with a new monogram-ma tic seal. I felt entirely convinced that some fundamental genetic transformation was occurring, not just symbolically but in the actual structure of my physical being.
"Every cell is a bell, and every bell is ringing 'Howard.' " Echoing this affirmation the cell bells pealed joyously and the thought came to mind that this was our nuptual cell-ebration. (For some reason plays on words seem to be a common feature of the ketamine experience.) Images, sounds, and ideas fused in a medley of chimes accompanying the stamping of each cell with his name.
"It doesn't really matter whether the world knows we are married," I thought returning reluctantly to the room in "Sherwood Forest." "From this day on that imprint will remain in every cell of my flesh, blood, brain, and bones. Where will it all lead?"
As I was now realizing, the most exalted stage of a ketamine excursion comes just prior to re-emergence into the world of ordinary realities. This is also the most frustrating phase because with the closing of the gates leading back to the world of the senses it becomes evident that only a minuscule portion of the experience can be remembered, much less conveyed to others. At the same time, however, a fresh flow of emotion can be released. To feel this closeness to Howard, who was now sitting beside me holding my hand was surely the epitome of all joy. That shining love-moment would have to pass, yet I knew that in days to come some of this lightness of spirit would carry over. Moreover, I felt distinctly rejuvenated. Had we serendipitously stumbled on a pharmacological fountain of youth? Well, time would tell.
Only one small dissonant note crept into the experience and even this was fortunate inasmuch as it conveyed an important lesson. At one point when I was almost back Howard, assuming that all was well, went downstairs for a few minutes. Opening my eyes and not seeing him I felt devastated, even knowing where he was and that he would soon return. On the basis of all my personal knowledge of the effects of ketamine I strongly believe that at least for the first few sessions the subject should never be left alone until normal consciousness has been thoroughly well established. Physically he may be quite aware of where he is and able to speak coherently about whatever has transpired. Psychologically, however, there is almost certain to be a need for some intimate personal communication with a sympathetic, supportive and genuinely concerned human being who has been through the same experience.