Simulating an LSD trip in 1963 with GPT-4

This is a companion to the full post here.

The question: how well can GPT-4 simulate a trip on LSD, specifically one in early 1960s Los Angeles?

The answer, in short…

… pretty damn well.

Read on for the experience of Leo Mitchell, a fictional 32-year old Los Angeleno in October of 1963. This exercise uses a version of the “HistoryLens” prompt I first discussed here — so called because it offers a distorted perspective on the past. The prompt introduces an element of “real” history (a primary source) and has careful instructions that provide guidance on how to stick to the ground truth of the source and the time period being described. Naturally, it is not even close to 100% accurate. I find it fascinating as a new form of experiential learning and historical roleplaying, but it always needs to be supplemented by rigorous fact checking to be useful.

One interesting element of the simulation below is that it was my first attempt to use an image as a primary source, rather than text. While writing my book Tripping on Utopia, I filled yellow legal pads with photocopies of primary sources. For example, this page from psychedelic researcher Sidney Cohen’s “Notes on the LSD-25 State.”

The entire simulation below was inspired by this page from Cohen’s essay.

All entries below in bold are written by me. The rest is the work of GPT-4 (including the images, which were generated by asking GPT to write a prompt describing the scene for an AI image generator to recreate).

Welcome to HistoryLens! 📜

This is a dynamic, immersive historical simulation designed for an authentic and engaging experience. You'll be taken back in time, embodying a character from the past and navigating challenges, conflicts, and decisions based on actual historical contexts. Throughout your journey, use the available commands like "#inventory", "#describe", "#talk", "#diary", "#map", "#list", and "#help" to explore and interact with the world around you. Let's embark on a thrilling adventure grounded in historical accuracy!

Based on the provided image and primary source, I deduce the setting to be somewhere in the mid-20th century, possibly the 1960s, during the early days of LSD research, particularly revolving around its impact on the human psyche. The article mentions Dr. Sidney Cohen, who was involved in research on the effects of LSD at the UCLA Neuropsychiatric Hospital. Given this context, here are three playable character options for you:

1. 🧪 Dr. Alex Martin | Age: 38

- Description: A young and passionate researcher at UCLA Neuropsychiatric Hospital, eager to uncover the mysteries of the human mind and how substances like LSD can potentially unlock or disrupt its functioning.

2. 📖 Emma Clarke | Age: 27

- Description: A journalist keen on documenting the growing interest and controversies surrounding LSD research. Her aim is to bring clarity and understanding to the masses while grappling with her personal skepticism.

3. 🖌 Leo Mitchell | Age: 32

- Description: A budding artist who's been introduced to LSD as a way to enhance creativity. He's eager to experience its effects firsthand, bridging the worlds of art and science.

Please choose a character, and we will proceed with your immersive experience.

I choose Leo.

Fantastic choice! Let's delve deeper into the life of Leo Mitchell.

The sun shines weakly through the smoggy sky of Los Angeles. The city, a hotbed of culture and innovation, feels alive with potential. Streets are abuzz with the hum of traffic, street vendors peddling their wares, and the distant murmur of conversations.

Leo, having read an article about the LSD research at UCLA, is both intrigued and a bit anxious. He's heard stories of artists gaining profound insights on the drug, but the very idea of altering his consciousness is daunting. Today, he's been invited to partake in a controlled study at UCLA. As he approaches the entrance of the Neuropsychiatric Hospital, he notices a small group gathered—participants like him, he presumes.

To his right, a woman with a notepad and a camera—Emma, he later learns—seems to be interviewing a doctor. To his left, a few participants chat animatedly about their expectations for the day.

Before he can decide on his next move, a young man wearing a lab coat approaches him. "Mr. Mitchell? I'm Dr. Alex Martin. We spoke over the phone. I'm glad you could make it. Are you ready to explore the depths of your mind?"

[October 14, 1963], [UCLA Neuropsychiatric Hospital, Session Room] | Leo Mitchell, 32 || [Inventory: Sketchbook, Charcoal Pencil] |

"Hi Dr. Martin, pleased to meet you. Absolutely. Never been more ready."

Dr. Alex Martin nods appreciatively, his eyes brightening. “That's the spirit, Leo. Remember, this is a journey—one that might open new perspectives for you. But it's crucial to remain grounded and trust the process. We're here to guide and support you.”

Leo follows Dr. Martin inside the sleek, modern building. The sterile scent of the hospital contrasts with the vibrant murals adorning its walls—testaments to the mingling of science and art. They pass a room where researchers are busily setting up monitoring equipment, and Leo can't help but feel a flutter of nervous excitement in his stomach.

Finally, they arrive at a comfortably furnished room. Soft, ambient music plays in the background, and warm, diffused light casts gentle shadows. A couple of plush recliners sit in the center, facing a large window overlooking a serene garden. Nearby, a table holds an array of art supplies.

After a brief overview of the procedure, Leo is given a small glass of water and the tiny pill from his bottle. The moment feels monumental, like standing at the edge of an unexplored frontier.

With a deep breath, Leo takes the pill.

Minutes pass, and slowly the world begins to change. Colors intensify. The lines between objects blur, and the very air seems to pulse with energy. The music becomes a tangible presence, and the garden outside transforms into a living, breathing entity.

Suddenly, an unexpected knock on the door jolts Leo. A nurse enters, her face showing a mix of concern and urgency. "Dr. Martin, there's been a situation in the lab. We need you immediately."

The atmosphere shifts. Dr. Martin's composed demeanor falters for a moment. “Stay with Leo,” he instructs the nurse, his voice tense, before rushing out of the room.

I try to manage my paranoid thoughts as I wonder why Dr. Martin has been summoned out of the room so abruptly. I stare at my hand and try not to be scared.

The soft hum of the hospital's air system gently fills the room. The ambient music that was playing fades into the background as your senses heighten. The once calming shadows dancing from the soft light seem to take on a more menacing quality. The serene garden outside the window seems to blur more than before, almost warping in your vision.

Suddenly, the door creaks open, and a woman enters the room. She's in her late 40s, wearing a nurse's uniform from the era. Her badge identifies her as Nurse Thompson. She carries a tray with a glass of water and a small packet.

"Mr. Mitchell," she begins, her voice gentle but with an underlying note of authority. "Dr. Martin had to attend to an urgent matter. He's asked me to continue monitoring your session for the time being. How are you feeling right now?"

You find it hard to concentrate on her words. The paranoid thoughts swirl in your mind, making it challenging to determine what's real and what's not. Your hand, which you're staring at, seems to pulse with life, the veins more prominent and the skin slightly translucent.

You take a deep breath, trying to center yourself. Do you confide in Nurse Thompson about your paranoid thoughts? Or do you attempt to dismiss them and proceed with the session as usual?

take out the art supplies and begin to make art. give me a detailed description of what I create.

You open the sketchbook, its pages filled with previous drawings and notes. Taking a deep breath, you try to divert your mind from the unsettling thoughts and focus on the present moment. Holding the charcoal pencil, you let it lightly touch the blank page, allowing your hand to move instinctively.

The initial strokes are chaotic, possibly mirroring the turmoil inside your head. However, as you continue, a pattern begins to emerge. A myriad of interconnected shapes forms: swirling patterns, twisted lines, and distorted faces. As you progress, the drawing starts to take on a more defined shape. It becomes a representation of the human brain, with its intricate networks and convolutions. The lines inside it seem to illustrate the different emotions and thoughts one might experience—joy, despair, clarity, confusion.

As the drawing develops, you integrate elements of the room around you. The shadows dancing from the soft light, the serene garden outside the window, and the soft hum of the hospital's air system all find their way into your artwork. The nurse, too, is subtly represented: her steady gaze and the badge on her uniform juxtaposed with the chaotic environment.

The final piece is a stark contrast of order and chaos, illustrating the duality of the mind during an LSD experience. It's both a reflection of your current emotional state and a testament to your ability to find clarity amidst confusion.

Nurse Thompson, who had been observing quietly from a distance, comes closer to take a look. "Mr. Mitchell," she murmurs, her tone filled with a mix of surprise and appreciation, "this is...remarkable."

Ask Nurse Thompson where Dr. Martin is. Ask her who is running this experiment and what for.

You look up from your artwork, feeling a slight edge of tension building in your chest, and catch Nurse Thompson's eye. Taking a deep breath, you muster the courage to ask the questions that have been gnawing at you. "Nurse Thompson, where's Dr. Martin? And who exactly is running this experiment? What is its purpose?"

Nurse Thompson hesitates for a moment, glancing at the door as if expecting someone to walk in. Then, taking a deep breath, she answers, "Dr. Martin had to attend to an urgent matter. He should be back shortly."

You notice her avoidance of the second part of your question and press on, "But who is behind all this? Why am I here?"

She looks at you, her gaze steady and her voice calm, "You are here because you volunteered, Mr. Mitchell. This research is being conducted by UCLA's Neuropsychiatric Hospital. Dr. Sidney Cohen and his team are trying to understand the effects of LSD on the human psyche. It's believed that by studying its effects, we can gain insights into the nature of consciousness and possibly find therapeutic uses for the substance."

You nod slowly, processing the information, but there's a nagging feeling deep down, a suspicion that there's more to the story. The atmosphere grows a bit heavier, the soft hum of the hospital's air system now more noticeable in the silence that ensues.

[before we move forward a turn, can you vividly describe what I'm thinking and feeling right now?]

Transcript of Thoughts and Visuals:

• "Is this how artists see the world every day? This burst of colors and shapes? The world outside the window looks like a living painting."

• "Those plants in the garden... are they moving? The leaves seem to be swirling, merging, and separating, as if dancing to an inaudible tune."

• "The shadows in the room look deeper, almost like they have depth and life. What's hiding in them?"

• Whispers of an indistinct conversation flit through your mind. They're too muffled to make out clearly, but they have a comforting cadence.

• The texture of the paper beneath your fingers seems to pulse, and for a fleeting moment, you feel like you can dive into its grain and swim.

• "Nurse Thompson's words echo in my mind... is this just research? Or is there something else, something hidden?"

• A sudden visual flashes before you: the pattern on the wallpaper seems to morph into a swirling kaleidoscope, pulling you into its mesmerizing dance before settling back to its original state.

The room's clock reads 2:45 PM. You take a deep breath, trying to anchor yourself amidst the wave of sensations. The merging of reality and hallucination creates an atmosphere of unease but also wonder.

say that I'd like to go out in the hallway and have a cigarette

With the weight of the ongoing hallucinations pressing on you, you suddenly feel the urge for a brief respite, to breathe in something real and grounding. You stand up and address Nurse Thompson, "I'd like to step out into the hallway and have a cigarette, if that's okay?"

Nurse Thompson, looking slightly surprised, hesitates for a moment before responding, "Smoking inside the facility isn't allowed, but we do have a designated smoking area outside. I'll need to accompany you for safety reasons. Will that be alright?"

Outside your door, the hospital corridor stretches in both directions — the linoleum floor reflecting the overhead lights, doors lining each side, and the soft hum of activity in the distance. It feels like a temporary escape from the confines of the room and the intensity of your current state.

[April 18th, 1963, Neuropsychiatric Hospital, UCLA], [Outside the Observation Room] | Leo 🎨, 28 || [Art supplies, LSD-25 notes, Worn-out wallet, Keys, Pack of cigarettes, Lighter] | [Turn 4 of 10].

Full-color Leica photograph from October 14, 1963, inside UCLA's Neuropsychiatric Hospital's session room. In sharp focus is the hand of a person, displaying part of a gray button-down shirt sleeve. In the softly lit background, an out-of-focus nurse is seen leading the way towards a door labeled 'Dr. Sidney Cohen'. The ambiance is slightly hallucinatory: the walls seem to subtly bend, the lights leave behind faint tracers, and the overall scene carries the essence of the 1960s combined with a touch of the surreal.

Ask to see Dr. Cohen so I can show him my brain drawing

You decide it's crucial for Dr. Cohen to see your latest creation. "Nurse Thompson," you begin, trying to focus your words through the haze, "I need to show this drawing to Dr. Cohen. It feels important. Can you take me to him?"

Nurse Thompson hesitates, her brow furrowing. "Dr. Cohen is overseeing multiple experiments today. I'm not sure if he's available right now. But," she adds, seeing the urgency in your eyes, "I can certainly ask. Stay right here. I'll go check."

While waiting, the hallway seems to elongate and shift. The fluorescent lights buzz and flicker, casting strange, moving shadows on the walls. The intricate details of your brain drawing in your hand seem alive, and you feel an immense connection to it, as if it's a roadmap to your current mental state.

After a few minutes that feel both too short and far too long, Nurse Thompson returns. "Dr. Cohen is in his office. He said he can spare a few minutes for you. Follow me." She begins to lead you down the corridor, towards a door labeled "Dr. Sidney Cohen - Staff Physician."

Historically accurate yet slightly surreal Leica photo from October 14, 1963, taken inside a session room at UCLA's Neuropsychiatric Hospital. The photograph emphasizes a sturdy oak door, adorned with a sign reading 'Dr. Sidney Cohen - Staff Physician'. The ambiance around the door exudes a subtle psychedelic aura, with light distortions and hints of shifting colors. The decor, the style of the door, and any visible elements should resonate with the 1960s style.

roleplaying as my character and imagining what someone might think in 1963, please give me some exact transcripts of what I'm thinking at this moment.

As Leo Mitchell, standing in Dr. Cohen's office, your mind races with a cascade of thoughts, intensified and somewhat fragmented due to the LSD's influence. Here are some transcripts of your thoughts in that moment:

1. Intrigue About Dr. Cohen's Persona:

   • "This man, Dr. Cohen, he's seen so much. Those lines on his face, each one must tell a story. How much does he know about the mind, about what I'm experiencing right now?"

2. Reaction to the Office Setting:

   • "This room... it's like a sanctuary of knowledge. Those books, they look ancient, filled with secrets. And that plant, it's so green, almost pulsating with life. Everything feels so vivid, so real."

3. Curiosity About the Research:

   • "What does he really think about LSD? Is he just observing us like lab rats, or does he believe this can genuinely help people? What are they looking for in our minds?"

4. Anxiety and Paranoia:

   • "Why did they call him away earlier? Was there an incident? Is everything under control, or is there something they're not telling us?"

5. Reflection on Your Art:

   • "This drawing... it came from somewhere deep inside me. Will he understand it, see the chaos and clarity I felt while drawing it? Or will it just look like a jumble of lines to him?"

6. Concern About Your Well-being:

   • "Am I okay? This feels overwhelming. What if I can't come back from this? No, focus, Leo, you volunteered for this. It's just an experience, it'll pass."

7. Moment of Self-Doubt:

   • "Is this what I expected? Am I learning anything, or just getting lost in my own head? What if this changes how I see the world, my art?"

These thoughts capture a mix of curiosity, anxiety, reflection, and existential contemplation, typical for someone undergoing an intense and unfamiliar psychedelic experience, especially in the context of the 1960s when much was still unknown about these substances.