Eating magic mushrooms does not enable you to walk through walls.
Sadly enough, I have seen this feat attempted. And my role in this debacle will surely damn me to an eternity in the fires of Hell.
We were at my place. My friend Mike and I had been up for a few days, and we had procured a fair amount of mushrooms. Mike declined a dose, having never done them before, but he had a girl with him, roughly in her twenties, whose name I never bothered to remember. She decided she would love a dose, so I gave it to her. Share and share alike, right? I settled into a chair, being a bit fatigued, and ended up in a bit of comedic wordplay with Mike. About an hour passed, long enough for the effects to kick in nice and strong.
I was still deep into my conversation with Mike, enjoying the delightfully geometric visuals at the same time. We pretty much were in our own world. The girl, meanwhile, was pacing along the floor, staring at one of my walls. I paid this no mind. I mean, seriously, staring at walls while tripping is apparently so cliche that it's a bit of a joke, so I didn't think there would be a problem.
Mike and I were snickering over a particularly deft riposte on his part when her voice, for the first time since we dosed, drifted over to us.
"I can walk through this wall."
The room fell silent. We just stared at her as she calmly contemplated the wall. There were no signs of mania about her whatsoever. Just calm confidence. I was still trying to decide if she had just said what I thought she had said, when Mike asked, "What?!"
"I can walk through this wall. I know I can."
It took me another moment to realize that she wasn't talking about bursting through it in the style of the Kool-Aid Man.
Mike and I glanced at each other, and a decision was silently made. I took the initiative. "I think she's right," I said, as deadpan as I could manage. Mike got the hint, and dropped right into the role of devil's advocate.
So we debated whether or not she could, while she paced back and forth, studying the wall intensely, gathering her mental energies, and occasionally running her hands along it as if to attune herself to the forces within it.
I pulled out every single half-assed metaphysical justification I could find in my addled little brain. I brought up the point that matter was mostly empty space, and that it was just a matter of aligning the molecules. Nay, matter is only energy. She obviously was of a high enough mindstate to be able to, at least momentarily, phase herself into energy long enough to do a piddling little thing like walking through a wall. No, reality was merely a construct of the mind. It's only a matter of belief, right?
Mike scoffed at every reason, just snidely enough to make anyone want to disprove him. We went back and forth for about an hour, and the whole time, the girl studied the wall and gathered her energies.
Finally, I said, "I'd do it myself, but I'm just not at that level."
She stopped pacing. She stood before the wall, hands held perfectly at her sides, and breathed.
The meditative state she had entered was perfect. I could see the singularity of purpose in her mind, a singularity of purpose that would have had the Buddha himself purple with envy. She was Samadhi, Satori, and all those other Eastern words that talk about enlightenment.
Eyes closed. Balance poised. Mind focused.
And she lunged.
She didn't step, she didn't stride, she didn't even tiptoe. She fucking *lunged*.
Right into the fucking wall.
I have never at any other moment in my life been more glad for the visual acuity that psilocybin imparts.
I watched, bemused, at the peaceful expression on her face. I watched in perfect detail as said face collided with the wall. I watched her head recoil away from the wall, and the rest of her body follow. I watched her quick step backwards, pinwheeling her arms, her mouth forming into a perfect "O" of surprise as she fell back and landed square on her ass.
And Mike and I, heaven help us, we laughed. We didn't just laugh. We hooted. We guffawed. We were on the floor, holding our sides in pure and utter hilarity.
The girl looked at us, and in that wonderfully childlike naiveity of a tripping person, said:
"I didn't walk through the wall."
It was too much. I roared with laughter until I passed out. Fortunately, the girl never thought to blame us for letting her try something so amazingly stupid.
I was an evil, evil fucker for what I did that night. But I'm an even more evil fucker, because deep in my heart, where all my darkest secrets lie, I honestly, seriously wanted her to succeed. I wanted her to walk right through that wall, and plant both feet firmly on the other side.
We were in a third story apartment.