Belisarius
Bluelighter
Through a series of unusual events, I had the opportunity last night to get stoned for the first time in ages, and only the third time in total Two friends (E and J) and I went to a mutual friend's house (D); I bought a blunt that D rolled, and then E, J, and I split it outside.
D said that the stuff was really, really strong (hydro), and I had no reason to disbelieve him. I was also leery of hitting off a tobacco product (I've never smoked). I did it anyway, and smoked several hits that were huge in retrospect, and that left my whole chest burning. In total, I smoked maybe half of it, perhaps a little less.
It began pleasantly enough. I didn't feel anything for what seemed like a while, until I started looking around, and remarked with a demented whisper, "The world is so *big*." They fucked with me like that for a while, asking me why that was so, and I could only repeat it over and over. Then, suddenly my ears started ringing, and I dry-heaved several times. When I was able to convince D that I could go inside without getting sick (it was cold, and I was now shaking uncontrollably), we went back inside.
This is where the real shit started. I laid down on D's bed, and then started grabbing the end of his bed for dear life. I felt like I was moving--*fast*--and if I closed my eyes I felt like I was falling--"falling into nothing", like I told them. The room seemed enormous, like the size of a cathedral. D's features were undistorted but *felt* so, if that makes any sense. I was terrified, and tears were running down my face. E and J got weirded the fuck out, and decided it was time to drop me off at home.
Here is where the story gets hard to follow. I barely remember the drive home, except that it seemed to take *forever*. Though we were at the speed limit, the car felt like it was going hundreds of miles an hour, like an accident were imminent. Moments of semi-lucidity were separated by intervals in which I was entirely unable to separate reality and fantasy, where I didn't know where the hell I was, when I couldn't control the words coming out of my mouth. I switched between laughing maniacally at nothing, and crying or groaning. I remember saying at one point something like "Madness...like holding back an avalanche!", and things like "How can you live in a cold universe that's so *big*?" E and J got even more freaked out, and J kept telling me to stay "clear", but I still yo-yoed between vivid hallucinations, paranoia, and semi-clarity. Queries as to whether the weed was laced were greeted with disdain and astonishment; he'd had no problem, he told me.
E and J made sure I got into my apartment okay once they dropped me off. By now I was shaking badly, and breathing rapidly. Walking around the apartment didn't help. I tried to look something up online, but the words were impossible to follow, and even writing a URL was herculean. Television was incomprehensible, plastic characters and meaningless action. I felt completely disconnected from my actions: I imagined doing things before I did them, or doing them again afterwards, as if I did them two or three times, and it was hard to tell when I did them or when I was hallucinating. My body felt like an eighteen-wheeler that took forever to do anything, that was impossibly slow.
Before I did my nightly hygiene, I looked at myself in the mirror. My eyes were red as hell, and my mouth was bone-dry. I decided to sleep it off, which was easier said than done. It took me a long time to go to sleep, as I still felt cold, still shook, still felt headlong, spinning motion whether my eyes were closed or open. But, I managed it.
As I write this, I'm still feeling some aftereffects, but I'm at least functional. I think for once I'll take my E and J's advice, and not do this shit again--God bless you other stoners, but it's probably not for me. Christ, I had no idea that could fuck you up like that; if a bad acid trip is ten times worse, I'd probably be a dead man.
Later days, all.
P.S.--In retrospect, I'm guessing an adverse reaction to the nicotine was responisble in part...
D said that the stuff was really, really strong (hydro), and I had no reason to disbelieve him. I was also leery of hitting off a tobacco product (I've never smoked). I did it anyway, and smoked several hits that were huge in retrospect, and that left my whole chest burning. In total, I smoked maybe half of it, perhaps a little less.
It began pleasantly enough. I didn't feel anything for what seemed like a while, until I started looking around, and remarked with a demented whisper, "The world is so *big*." They fucked with me like that for a while, asking me why that was so, and I could only repeat it over and over. Then, suddenly my ears started ringing, and I dry-heaved several times. When I was able to convince D that I could go inside without getting sick (it was cold, and I was now shaking uncontrollably), we went back inside.
This is where the real shit started. I laid down on D's bed, and then started grabbing the end of his bed for dear life. I felt like I was moving--*fast*--and if I closed my eyes I felt like I was falling--"falling into nothing", like I told them. The room seemed enormous, like the size of a cathedral. D's features were undistorted but *felt* so, if that makes any sense. I was terrified, and tears were running down my face. E and J got weirded the fuck out, and decided it was time to drop me off at home.
Here is where the story gets hard to follow. I barely remember the drive home, except that it seemed to take *forever*. Though we were at the speed limit, the car felt like it was going hundreds of miles an hour, like an accident were imminent. Moments of semi-lucidity were separated by intervals in which I was entirely unable to separate reality and fantasy, where I didn't know where the hell I was, when I couldn't control the words coming out of my mouth. I switched between laughing maniacally at nothing, and crying or groaning. I remember saying at one point something like "Madness...like holding back an avalanche!", and things like "How can you live in a cold universe that's so *big*?" E and J got even more freaked out, and J kept telling me to stay "clear", but I still yo-yoed between vivid hallucinations, paranoia, and semi-clarity. Queries as to whether the weed was laced were greeted with disdain and astonishment; he'd had no problem, he told me.
E and J made sure I got into my apartment okay once they dropped me off. By now I was shaking badly, and breathing rapidly. Walking around the apartment didn't help. I tried to look something up online, but the words were impossible to follow, and even writing a URL was herculean. Television was incomprehensible, plastic characters and meaningless action. I felt completely disconnected from my actions: I imagined doing things before I did them, or doing them again afterwards, as if I did them two or three times, and it was hard to tell when I did them or when I was hallucinating. My body felt like an eighteen-wheeler that took forever to do anything, that was impossibly slow.
Before I did my nightly hygiene, I looked at myself in the mirror. My eyes were red as hell, and my mouth was bone-dry. I decided to sleep it off, which was easier said than done. It took me a long time to go to sleep, as I still felt cold, still shook, still felt headlong, spinning motion whether my eyes were closed or open. But, I managed it.
As I write this, I'm still feeling some aftereffects, but I'm at least functional. I think for once I'll take my E and J's advice, and not do this shit again--God bless you other stoners, but it's probably not for me. Christ, I had no idea that could fuck you up like that; if a bad acid trip is ten times worse, I'd probably be a dead man.
Later days, all.
P.S.--In retrospect, I'm guessing an adverse reaction to the nicotine was responisble in part...
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