Reality was filtered through your senses. If you brain says it's real, IT'S REAL. So life was a consensual hallucination we all shared.
The problem last time was the Haldol, of course. He looked up the side effects: INSANITY! Heh.
He scored one hundred hits of Berkeley pure. No bullshit white blotter, either. Acid without artwork on it was worthless. He's sooner be straight.
He tried to recreate what happened last time. He ate ten hits to start.
He wasn't sure on what day it occurred, but he crossed over again. It wasn't just the acid, but the exhaustion and lack of nutrition. He stepped out of his apartment into a perfect world. Perfect. He had everything he had ever wanted, without limits. And he would live forever.
"Get this fuckin' chickenhead back in his room, he's drooling on himself again!"