So the thing I'm trying to answer is, I've had five major surgeries in my life. The first four, morphine was the primary stuff that made me not feel pain, or whatever. But this last surgery, they used fentanyl. And the only difference between morphine and fentanyl was that when I woke up, I had new false memories implanted in my brain. Therefore, my recovery, which was very difficult, was not about the physical stuff that happened, but about convincing myself that the false memories that fentanyl had planted in my head were not real, and removing them from my memory, my reality.
I can handle I got in a car accident. I can handle I broke my leg playing soccer. What I cannot handle is, oh, you had a little hangnail, you broke a toe, you got an infection, we're going to have to do surgery. And now you are a part of Voltron. Not a question mark—you are part of Voltron. How do I deal with that?
You know, I can handle, you know, whatever, you got a car accident or you ain't taking care of your diabetes so you got an infection so we had to cut your left hand and your left foot off. Fine. Because I remember the car crash and I remember making bad decisions that caused my amputation. Okay. But how do you forget that you were part of an elite human team that saved the world? And this is not a delusion. Okay. It is a memory implanted in your brain by fentanyl.
So I think the difference between morphine and fentanyl, which is the most addictive stuff ever that is out there on the street, is that morphine will, yeah, it numbs the pain and whatever. But fentanyl will tap into your memories and make, you know, Voltron or G.I. Joe or whatever you listened to or watched as a kid. I mean, like, for me, it was Voltron, G.I. Joe, specifically Voltron. Any of that, and it will put you in that like it was reality. That is what the danger is.
It's not because it feels good. It's because it somehow can tap into your molecular stuff in your brain and mess you up because it will take—okay, this little kid, he likes Voltron. And it will mess you up with that story.
There are three distinct experiences I had in this story. The first hallucination was I kind of woke up in a 1960s or 70s hospital where I was born, which is no longer there. It is actually now an engineering school, computer-aided drafting school. But all the nurses were women that had the little hat, and they're just like, "Calm down. You okay?" I think those were actual, either male or female nurses, but not my fantasy. Not my fentanyl state. "Tell me you good, just chill. You good?" But for some reason, I'm in the 1970s with all these women, some mostly white, one black. And they say chill. But I couldn't breathe good. But for some reason, I can see my face from the outside, and I had a tube in my mouth that was translucent purple, and a thing, like I don't know how to say it, like a stopper over the tube between my mouth and the stuff that went down my throat, and it was translucent purple and it said Pepsi Cola, like they did back in the 70s and 60s. Now that one is just funny and stupid, but that is my memory that fentanyl is tapping into.
So the next one is like I'm in a movie slash Japanese anime where I'm in a Mustang, a 1966 Mustang with my cousin Michael and his cousin. I'm not related to him. His cousin's name is Andy. Michael is my first cousin. Andy is Michael's first cousin, but me and Andy aren't related. Okay? But Andy is a skeleton-looking dude. He looks like Clint Eastwood at 80 years old. He was born looking like Clint Eastwood at 80, 80 years old. Good looking guy, but scary looking from the start.
The premise is we're sitting in this 1966 Mustang. Andy is driving, but we're parked. I'm in the passenger seat. My cousin Michael is in the back, and we got a job. We gotta kill some guys, whatever, in the middle of the day, in broad daylight. It was somewhere in the Utah desert between Salt Lake City and Nevada. Wendover. Yeah. Now that was a funny one. It was fun. But the thing that disturbed me was it wasn't like it was a dream or a fantasy or some fun stuff. It burned into my brain like it really happened, and it never did. But Michael, Andy, and I are like, you know, Jules and Vincent in Pulp Fiction. We got to take care of some business, you know, in the roadhouse off of a desert highway between Salt Lake City and Wendover. And that's it. But this is just an official dream or something is funny. But I woke up like this actually happened. Okay. Because the nurses and the Pepsi Cola stuff, yeah, that could be brushed aside as a dream. But Michael and Andy and the 1966 Mustang are real things in my life. Michael is my first cousin. Andy is his first cousin, I know Andy. And we all used to go out hunting with Winchester, you know, .22 caliber rifles. But in this scenario, we all got .38, .45 caliber revolvers, we assassins. And we going to kill some guys. So I wake up thinking that stuff actually happened.
So the thing that really messes with me is I loved, loved, loved Voltron as a kid. You know, these 5, you know, people jump into 5 different robot cats like robot tigers, and then they fought evil. But when evil became too much, they could join into 1 called Voltron and mess everything up. Okay?
My thing was I was in training in an underground bunker that was dug out in rock like Bajorans in Star Trek Deep Space 9, just training. Okay? But it was so real to me. So when I woke up, I thought I was ready to rock. I thought I was a cat, but I wasn't. It was fentanyl. How did it tap into my brain to make me believe I actually went through training? How did I wake up and think that I was a trained, you know, soldier, and you know, from basic training to basically Navy SEAL training to Delta training, beyond that could handle being a Voltron soldier?
You know, I saw a pornstar on Instagram who said, "I did every drug ever since I was 14." And fentanyl was the one who finally made her go to rehab. Not jail, rehab. Because it feels good, like heroin. But the problem is not that it makes you feel good. It's that it puts something in your brain that you didn't do. Like be part of Voltron, or graduate from high school, or never did porn. It made her think she never did porn, went to therapy, came to terms with that she was abused and didn't turn to porn, got help, went to college and all that stuff.
It implants memories that are so false that it kinda digs you out of your grave of addiction with memories of stuff you didn't do. Stuff maybe you should do, but you never did. That's where fentanyl is dangerous. Beyond any measure, any calculation, any theoretical stuff.
So at the end of the day, the physical stuff, you can heal from. You get cut, you heal, you move on. But there is no simple rehab for a hijacked reality. Fentanyl doesn't just numb the pain; it chemically overrides your truth and locks you in an imaginarium of stuff you never did. Having to fight your own human brain to delete those false memories and take your life back? That's the real nightmare. And that’s exactly why this stuff is the most dangerous thing out there.
Top comments (0)