Hey, remember that time you took acid and ate all those doughnuts? Yeah, the alien visitation thing. When they descended and told you the meaning of existence? Good times.
This seems a highly apochryphal and romanticised (well, as romantic as constantly soiling the bed can actually be) version of how LSD normally happens.
In my experience, you’re far more likely to spend six hours laughing uncontrollably at a bathroom tile (or an orange slice, if you’re Ray Manzarek) than penning a nine minute progressive metal opus.
And that’s if it goes well.
If it goes badly, all the doughnuts in the world aren’t going to help you.