The Minnesota State Fair on Acid - What Could Go Wrong?

Overview: Steve Elfrink, a psychedelic somatic interactional therapist and subject matter expert at Webdelics, recounts a harrowing LSD experience at the Minnesota State Fair. The intense trip unveiled buried trauma, emphasizing the need for careful use of psychedelics, particularly in those with a history of trauma. Despite the potential for transformation, Elfrink advocates for cautious, trauma-informed approaches in psychedelic therapy to ensure safety and effective healing.

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The Minnesota State Fair on Acid - What Could Go Wrong?

As I was growing up in Rochester, Minnesota music was a huge part of my life. It was the 70’s and the theme of sex, drugs and rock-n-roll was ever present. Well, for me, mainly it was drugs and rock-n-roll. Music was an obsession and a solace for me. Live concerts were always a favorite event, mainly a reason for excessive amounts of drugs and alcohol to fuel that rock-n roll passion. Rock on!!!

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In this spirit, four of us, all around the age of 16, headed north to St. Paul in my friend's 67 Pontiac Firebird to attend a Styx concert at the Minnesota State Fair. We were loaded with weed, Jack Daniels and LSD for the adventure. The LSD was reserved for the moment we entered the stadium. I still remember the Big Moment of taking that tab of “Red Dragon” blotter acid and nobly stumbling into the vast stadium. 

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We settled into our seats, passing back and forth a flask of smuggled-in Jack Daniels. Our timing was nearly perfect. The LSD was just starting to kick in as the band took the stage. And, right away I knew something was wrong. The LSD was coming on very strong and very fast. Quality control on dosing back then was never an exact science. I braced myself into my seat as the waves of the LSD grew in strength along with my internal disorientation.

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Somehow, I instantly entered the full-on LSD space but then lost sight of the fact that I had taken it. In my mind, I was on stage jamming with the band — well, not really, but it felt exactly like I was up there, rocking out. I was a rock-n-roll God shredding the cosmos with my guitar!

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So, I kept ripping out tasty licks on my guitar with the band to the cheers of the audience and then suddenly “boom” I was back in my seat in the stadium.

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I was totally disoriented on how I made it back from the stage to this hard seat surrounded by people. I still had no awareness that I had taken LSD. Everything was weird, the music was all distorted, all the movement of the people was strange and demonic. Nothing seemed real. I didn’t seem real. And then worst of all — it felt like I had shit my pants. I thought I got so excited being on stage jamming with the band that I must have accidentally shit myself. Panic set in. Could people smell it? How am I going to clean up? 

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I slowly got up and wandered terrified and aimlessly until I made it to the bathroom. Nothing made sense. I thought I was losing my mind. Everyone’s face was distorted and changing, voices were slow, deep and demonic. Everyone was staring at me and everyone knew what happened, or so I thought. I felt so much shame that was also amplified by the LSD. An awful feeling compounded by terror and panic.

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In the bathroom I found a stall and quickly pulled down my  pants to assess the damage, and there was nothing. That made no sense — I knew I shit my pants, I could feel it. What’s happening? I left the bathroom and as soon as I got out I thought, “oh, no! This time I REALLY did shit my pants.” I hobbled back into the bathroom feeling the mess with each step. Back into the stall, pulled down my pants, and… nothing. More strangeness and disorientation followed. I didn't really know where I was. There was just lots of noise and people and everything was wrong — I had to escape! This place was not safe and these people were out to harm me. Extreme paranoia set in and an overwhelming fear and terror of feeling unsafe. 

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I continued wandering aimlessly through the back half of the stadium trying to get away from these demons and strange noises. Somehow I managed to get out of the stadium but now I was in the main midway of the state fair that was in full swing. More people, strange objects, strange things, inexplicable movements and colors never before seen. I had no idea where I was. It felt like a giant freak show. Everything was moving, pulsating, and strange. I did find some solace in a mural on a wall of a Mexican mariachi band. Although it wasn’t a mural because all the guys were moving, swirling about and I could hear them playing their instruments. I stood for a long time transfixed by this display of transformational music. 

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I was pulled away from my Mariachi concert as I noticed the sky was suddenly filled with large, strange, scary explosions of colors in the sky and distorted sound. It was coming from a large “thing” in the distance. There was a slow recognition that “I’m supposed to be in there.” I slowly and carefully navigated the sea of people in this strange place and made it back to the stadium. 

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I walked up to a gate where a demonic person said, “Ticket?” I had no concept of what he was saying or what he wanted from me. I just stared at him with dilated pupils in panic. He looked around, grabbed me. and pulled me into the stadium. He must have “known.”

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The loud explosions were still happening with light filling the sky. These were fireworks but to me they were awful, bad things happening that I did not understand. I had no idea where I was supposed to go. I wandered as far as I could and found a steel railing to hold on. It seemed like my only mission was to hold on to that rail and hopefully something would happen that would rescue me. I still had no idea of where I was or that I had taken LSD. I remember thinking if I could only find a gun I could shoot myself and end this. It was awful. 

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I didn’t know I had friends in this strange place, but suddenly I heard a “STEVE!!!” and saw a strange person rush towards me. He seemed to know me and said, “We’ve been looking all over for you! Where the fuck have you been? You missed the whole concert!” I can’t talk — I just stare at him and these other people, things that are now with him. I have no idea what’s going on. My friend states, “fuck dude, we got get you out of here.” I don’t want to let go of the railing; it feels like my only anchor of safety. My friends start to peel my hands off the railing, now trying to reassure me, “that it’s going to be OK, we’ll get you out of here…” I hesitantly begin to follow — if they can get me out of here it would be huge. 

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They got me to the car and coaxed me inside. My friend grabbed a quart of Jack Daniels that we brought for the ride home. I was directed to drink half the bottle to save myself,  so I chugged it down. Oddly, it did help — it cut through the high of the LSD enough to slowly pull me back into reality. I was still shaky and disoriented but I had slowly regained the knowledge that I was Steve.

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The rest of the odyssey was a clusterfluff of 4 people drunk and high on acid trying to navigate home. A drive of 2 hours took us 6-7 hours. We were lost in the railyard of the St. Paul cattle loading megaplex. We sat on the railroad tracks totally bewildered as to where we were and how we even got here. We stumbled into a diner with 4 policemen having a midnight snack. We ate corn out of a field — it made sense at the time. And, we eventually made it home. Safe.

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Once I was back on Earth I swore that I would never do LSD again. That lasted a week. The following weekend there was a local outdoor music festival and another hit of Red Dragon as I stumbled into the venue to the strains of “Along the Watchtower” blasting through the PA system — heaven. 

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It would take me 43 years to understand the meaning of what happened and what created this “bad trip.” My greatest insight to what happened that night was my first instance of experiencing psychedelic iatrogenic structural dissociation. Basically the LSD opened up a portal of trauma for me, and that emotional realm of held reactivity was amplified by the psychedelic. The greatest overriding feeling was “not safe” and I was convinced throughout that people are demonic and dangerous. Also, I was experiencing full-on depersonalization and derealization, hallmarks of structural dissociation. This is a place where there were two Steve’s occupying an LSD-fueled body. The 16 year old Steve and a younger version that had been sexually abused were both present, with the younger part hijacking my experience. 

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At this point in my life I had no idea of the sexual abuse that I experienced as a young child. This is part of the potential roulette of working with psychedelics. I will also fully admit the set and setting were not ideal by any means. I also know I went through similar experiences in perfect set and settings. Again, the roulette factor when there is early childhood trauma. 

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All of these psychedelic substances are incredibly powerful tools that have incredible potential for transformation and can have incredible benefits. They saved my life — and, several times, they nearly killed me. But what is important to note here is that the substance was not at fault. It was the perpetrators who abused me as a child. Our bodies are biologically wired to process trauma in any way possible. The body seeks homeostasis. A body holding trauma is out of homeostasis. These substances can be conduits or portals into our trauma. The biggest wild card here is early or pre-verbal trauma. When those experiences are accessed and then amplified, all best are off on the outcome. 

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My experience in my various sessions of hitting this place of pre-verbal trauma is that the overriding experience is “not safe,” paranoia, and this sense of demonic/sinister energy. My theory is that the pre-verbal brain is so underdeveloped, along with the “meaning maker” of the mind. There is also no delineation of feelings. A young child does not know what the word fear is, or terror, or panic, or betrayal, or any associated meaning to a feeling — just the feeling. The experience when this place is tapped into on a psychedelic is a swirl of “strange” emotions that the brain then tries to make meaning of — which is impossible. It comes from a young undeveloped mind. So, as meaning makers we try to name the feeling(s). Typically the closest description is “demonic.” There is no true attachment to anything that is actually demonic, it’s just the closest descriptor to the swirl of panic, fear, pain, and even levels of insanity that that young child was experiencing. 

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With all of this being said, the key take-home message is — stay safe. If you have any inkling of early trauma, be very careful. Also, there is a great need for anyone who is facilitating psychedelic sessions to go beyond “trauma informed.’ There has to be an understanding of dissociation, structural dissociation, depersonalization, derealization, and how to support these people out and through these horrifying experiences, which can sometimes take years. 

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We are complicated creations and the spectrum of trauma is vast. Psychedelics are powerful at accessing various realms, from the mental to deep into the body. Be careful and stay mindful of what you or a client may be carrying. I am a fan of erring on the side of caution vs. giving everyone a large dose of a psychedelic medicine. We are still learning, and we still have a lot to learn.

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Keep exploring, questioning, and researching with the ultimate goal of creating the best possible outcome for yourself or a client.