Aldous Huxley, dying of terminal cancer, took LSD on his deathbed, and died while on his final trip (it was planned that way), although a relatively low dose of 100ug.

It seems to me like it would be a good way to go, a good way to conquer the fear of the unknown after you die.

In a related experience, once when I was on a bender, I took 3 tabs of lsd, along with a whole plethora of other substances. I actually thought I was dead for a while, and strangely enough, I felt OK about it. I saw some pretty weird shit on that trip, it was the most mindblowing experience of my life, and not one I'm about to repeat in a hurry, it honestly wasn't that fun. Fear and Loathing in Las Vegas is not an instruction manual.

But then I sobered up. I really think that Hunter S Thompson was right: it's all bullshit. You're not connecting to another plane of existence or getting in touch with your ancestors. You're just fucked on drugs. Nothing wrong with that, but it's not spiritual.

He really nailed it in Fear and Loathing:

> All those pathetically eager acid freaks who thought they could buy Peace and Understanding for three bucks a hit. But their loss and failure is ours, too. What Leary took down with him was the central illusion of a whole life-style that he helped to create...a generation of permanent cripples, failed seekers, who never understood the essential old mystic fallacy of the Acid Culture: the desperate assumption that somebody-or at least some force-is tending the Light at the end of the tunnel.