I have never felt so sick, abandoned or terminally alone. A dragging sickness in my stomach grows insistent, until the nausea is worse than chemotherapy, morning sickness and food poisoning combined. Everything around me has been draped in a ghostly white sheer netting, transforming this beautiful lush tropical garden into Miss Havisham’s attic. Wherever I turn, everything is ugly, deathly and hostile. I’d always wondered what a bad psychedelic trip would be like. An hour ago I took 9g of psilocybin, and now I know.

The staff members dotted around the garden look sinister and menacing. One has turned into an eerie statue and appears to be levitating on the wall. The fellow guest lying on the lawn resembles a corpse. The only refuge I