psilosara
Bluelighter
- Joined
- May 13, 2003
- Messages
- 56
Decision: We had been saving two eyeball blotter hits. I delayed taking it, because with all the amp over this hallucinogen, and all my adolescent expectations for it, I figured I should wait for some internal cue that tonight was the right night. But I had not felt like tripping for a few weeks. Then, one Friday, I felt a need for spontaneity, no apprehension or planning. My boyfriend was eager to take it with me, I thank him for his patience. Two other friends were planning to trip on 2C-I and –B.
Sidenote: I’m writing this about a month and a half later…. and this is difficult. The beginning is a bit hazy and most details are gone. This experience was so personal that while tripping I thought about posting merely a ‘I tripped on acid. It was more than I could ever express and convey to you all and I’m sure many understand this sentiment’ report. But that would be cheating. I am both impressed and happy with how the night affected me. I was positive during a subsequent visit with my family that it was going better than the last because I was more comfortable with myself around my intimidating family, a result of a theme of my acid trip…. but I’ll get to all that later. So bear with me =).
Friends: T ingested his 2C-I around 8ish, early because his body reacts slowly.
M ate 2C-B at 9.
Bluedolphin and I on the acid we fed each other sometime in between.
Setting: Housemates were watching Pirates of the Caribbean while T boiled his bowl. The come-up during this was pleasant, I was a little high and excited, and didn’t mind that I could not distinguish the two. I began to get a little paranoid that the housemates were bothered by the drug-related conversation coming from the adjacent kitchen, or other minor judgments, and wanted to migrate somewhere private and comfy. Meanwhile a feeling was overcoming me, one I surely enjoyed while recognizing it’s message that I was in for hours of psychedelia I had not yet known.
The smells from the boiling resin were sketching me out and the guys seemed to be talking very loudly. So I went upstairs and attempted to play a computer game [Shisen-Sho] while I worked on my boyfriend’s playlist. After what felt like far too long to be alone while I was enjoying my new thought-process orientation I went downstairs. I would guesstimate 5 minutes. The room without my friends had been bare, cold, and uncomfortable. In the meantime the thoughts that were rushing over me were all interesting and seemingly sharable, which is unusual. I felt clever, no, I *was* clever, and craved my friends’ company. I said that T should stop boiling his pipe because the whole house stunk [this was unfortunately true], that we should be somewhere safer, listening to music, and talking. The kitchen was not right. I felt the other housemates judging me, and whether it was so or not, I wanted out.
Bd agreed that the boiling should stop and we were coming up fast enough to know a private room would be more comfortable.
Bluedolphin’s room had a nice atmosphere although it still felt bare. The music was not as interesting as it usually is, because I was doubled over on the bed. The ‘stomach-tightness’ discomfort that bd describes on some substances now made perfect sense. I felt constant waves, my stomach tightening and a full body buzz that was almost intolerable. I remember this from my first acid trip, although then extremely subtle, when the tightness felt more like butterflies. I talked to bd to calm myself, hoping that this would not continue so powerfully, and he expected it would to some extent. I figured that when the rest of the trip takes hold it would be at the back of my mind. After another 20 minutes or so my thoughts did not return to that sensation. For all I know it stopped.
Over the next hour my visuals kicked in. I don’t remember much in the way of conversation but I began to have hallucinations on another level I had never experienced before. I have just begun to hallucinate appropriately on hallucinogens, and recently they’ve been disappointingly similar: neon colors and patterns over things, moving patterns on tapestries, etc. While I’m seeing them I’m not bored, but writing reports for them reminds me of the lack of diversity. On the acid, not only did I have new and unique visuals but the actual hallucination that I had so long associated with acid introduced itself to me. Something that I was looking at would morph. Rather than seeing some pattern on top of an object, the object itself was malleable to my vision. Lying on the bed and paying less attention to my stomach, I stared at T for a long time, watching his head blend into the orange and flowery tapestry behind him, unblend and take skin-form, and then blend back again like Predator camouflage. I had never experienced such a true hallucination, and it was exciting. At this point it was still easily within my control, and I was aghast pondering the neuroscience, and the selectivity of this deeper hallucination.
The body high was fabulous. I felt exhilarated and purified. The most challenging reconciliation I have had after this experience was that I wanted to think and act and talk that way all the time. Me on acid seemed funnier, smarter, more independent and confident than regular me. I thought my brain somehow released the best in me for the trip, and I hoped that the ‘progress’ would remain afterwards. I realize now that the best path is not relying on acid to bring that out, but it is tempting. I remember remarking that I wanted to be on acid at all times, wouldn’t that be a better life? Wow. Seeing as I loved my new thought process orientation, body buzz, and interesting visual additions, and that I could tell the guys felt more comfortable around me, the acid was my new best friend. I truly felt natural.
When T was having too much difficulty smoking a bowl out bluedolphin’s window, a move to my room was proposed and followed after some expected delay. Around this time somehow we decided that smoking outside would be a delightful adventure, but we walked around to the back and turned around to go back inside. I’d estimate a low teens fahrenheit temp, and the boys immediately vetoed the idea [which was probably mine, I had worn many layers in preparation for tripping adventures]. I didn’t mind at all but missed the beautiful dancing snow. Somehow the light on the ground, or the light in my head, produced the movement of sea kelp into the snow, symmetrically moving, and sparkling at random. When we opened the window in my room for ventilation I stuck most of myself outside to watch the snow some more.
I felt more comfortable and cozy in my little room. It is anything but bare, fairly trippy with lots of warm lights. We remained here for most of the evening, standing and talking for hours. I wondered whether we should do something, aren’t we supposed to explore nature, etc, but none of us had qualms just enjoying each others’ company.
In the last month previous, I had begun to have problems smoking weed frequently. It resulted in paranoia over minor worries that seemed out of my control. I began to smoke on fewer nights a week and when I smoked I only took one or two hits per bowl. I was aware of this in the early evening but when I was offered a joint I toked and toked. To every offered bowl I accepted. No petty weedy worries penetrated my wonderful acidic shield of assuredness for the entire night.
Skip ahead, and the sentiment that we must move and do something has gathered. We’ve been talking about music, personal history, and theories someone should have written down. T had been brilliant in his creative conversation starters, throwing us tasty bones: ‘try this one guys, …..” and would have some trippy observation we would discuss for some time. My music collection was limited, but it did not determine the mood. M is grinning on his 2C-B but is otherwise fairly quiet, my boyfriend is having a difficult time communicating it seems, and T is having a weaker trip. I worry briefly that not being able to communicate well with my boyfriend is a bad sign, and share this concern. He is able to let me know that when he felt a synergy with T’s energy when they were tripping on acid together it was during meditation and the energy was merely different from those of us on other drugs. Besides, I reminded myself, this is introspective, I should enjoy myself while I’m this entertaining. ‘Weren’t we going to go somewhere?’
Into the living room and T sits down on the couch. This is not the change of location I had expected. There was a couple in the kitchen, I smiled and greeted them, then caught M’s glance, who had aptly noticed that the woman was crying and the man looked perturbed. We very awkwardly told to get T off of the couch because we felt they needed privacy, and headed upstairs.
Skip ahead to my room, after T and M had left for bed. I was peaking visually. Left alone with bluedolphin, we seemed to both be searching for a normal greeting or arrangement in the room. I think we stood there in the middle of the room talking, and that was when I saw it all, and that was when I founded my theory. At the time this was a perfectly suitable analogy, between the other hallucinogens I had taken and Star Trek. Hope you can all follow some geek references. See, the aliens on Star Trek are horribly limited bodily. They all must be at least human, plus some [or a lot of] make-up (minus a few exceptions, I would guess). They can’t take away or morph the actors’ faces, so they have no choice but to create faces with additions for each new species. I used to be able to hallucinate only additional visuals: patterns over solid materials and colors mostly, some patterns would move for art or cloth. As the camouflaging head of T demonstrated, this had changed. The actual perception of a thing or person was now also at the whim of my psychedelic mind. And it was both unnerving and magnificent.
Bluedophin was standing less than a foot away, and his neck began to disappear. I knew it was there, however a nearly invisible line had been sliced across his jaw, right below his ears, and below that line was swelled and unnaturally high. I didn’t like this because he looked monstrous so I went in for a hug and a few deep breaths, then pulled away. The line was still there so I decided to make it go away. I concentrated on my eyesight, on my buzz and my thoughts that I assumed held control. Cocking my head to one side and the other, closing one eye at a time, and changing the distance between us seemed futile, but soon enough the line was no longer where the paintbrush in my head chose to play. His left eye swelled to twice its normal size. This looked very strange. I wondered why it was happening. Soon his face quartered and Picasso-d. The right eye appeared on a separate plane of symmetry, and the googly left eye remained wrong-looking. The other two quarters of his lower face had planes of their own, and the next time I watched the ‘take the ticket!’ guy in Fear and Loathing in Las Vegas, the morphing was rather familiar. Picasso’s cubist painting of a woman resting on her arm on a table immediately came to mind. There was beauty there that I could not grasp from my surprised shock. This was not what I wanted to be seeing for the next 5 hours. I did not feel the need to flee, however, evidently I was certain that this strange face was my love and my steady rock for tripping, and so I held him closer and told him what bothered me. He told me later that this would completely change the atmosphere of the room for him, bringing a darker feel to his surroundings. He reacted wonderfully, calm and gently, reminding me that it was not real, but temporary. His voice of reason relieved me, but I chose to stay with my head nestled in his neck and collar for a little longer. With new courage after a visual break [as most other things were also changing, in motion, or just extra sparkly and beautiful] I stepped back an extra foot for a different distance. While his face began to morph again, I described what I was seeing and decided to lay down. The bed was comfortable but there was restlessness in me that was displaced to other parts of my body once I was horizontal. My toes had energy Charlie-horses, and I felt out of whack. We put in a movie because I decided I needed a break from this intense new worldview, but ignored it [Phish’s Bittersweet Motel], there was no attention span for external entertainment. My feet were making me uncomfortable so I decided I needed to center myself. I moved my feet a few inches to the right and was perfectly aligned and comfortable.
As time passed and visuals depleted in strength, looking over at my boyfriend was fun. His face remained more regular, and we attempted to share thoughts. I placed a memory of a dark and dusty room with a ride in it, like the Cobra. When I was trying to remember the name of it at our local amusement park, I realized this was merely a vivid image from a dream I had had years ago. Every once in a while I would have to realign myself, and I gently closed my fists for help. Over the night I had been astonished to notice how feminine my hands were. They looked small and felt even smaller. When I closed them I felt a welling of energy within my palms, seemingly a good amount of power. I raised my hands, opening and closing my fingers. My pinkies appeared to be malformed, lowering far away from the edge of my hand, where it appeared they should rest. For a moment I was terrified over this transformation, horribly disappointed in my mutation. Bluedolphin again felt the urgency of the situation when I showed him my tragic hands, and lovingly repeated that this was not permanent, that I should trust my hands are normal, considering lsd cannot transform the body. A large wave of relief settled over me. Phew. That was funny.
Intimacy attempts were interesting, although doomed. I was thoroughly enjoying his company, and as the night wore on my thoughts became erratic and jumbled, I would forget what I was talking about mid-sentence or what I was about to say, so it seemed that cognitive functioning was slowly expiring. We had shared our love for the drug itself, and he seemed to be resolving with himself something similar to my challenge: me on acid seemed purer, the version of myself that seems to best represent who I could be, but one I can’t seem to let out while sober. He was impressed with my courage and wit. While the acid grew weaker as we grew more tired, I thought about what I would be like tomorrow, and he seemed to be in a similarly relaxed and introspective state. I was curious all night what form his trip took, and what it meant for him. His quietness meant for me that I had a partner in my first experience, that this night would have transpired perhaps less productively if we had not both dropped, but that this night had been personal for both of us. This was my night, and he was there with me.
The day after we talked extensively over the fun, the conversations, and our breakthroughs. I know that the euphoria facilitated some of my comfort with myself and my behavior, and so following the trip I made sure to attempt another perspective of myself, after all I had indeed reconciled conflicts over my course of life and my boyfriend’s. And the next week I returned home to actually get along with my brother, and present myself to my parents with the assurance that my news was good, that my plans were appropriate, that my world was somehow a little safer for me. M had warned me that acid will change you, that you get a little crazier each time. One thing I did conclude was that acid strips away minutely at our socialization, encouraging some more individual convictions to take hold, hand in hand with the courage not to conform. At least that was the path I chose. I look forward to my next trip, which I hope will be somewhere warm, and will reinforce what I decided in these last months. But then again, excluding this self-righteousness and growth [I hope it hasn’t seemed like a smug report, it is personal and therefore self-centric], it was still a goddamn good time.
peace
Sidenote: I’m writing this about a month and a half later…. and this is difficult. The beginning is a bit hazy and most details are gone. This experience was so personal that while tripping I thought about posting merely a ‘I tripped on acid. It was more than I could ever express and convey to you all and I’m sure many understand this sentiment’ report. But that would be cheating. I am both impressed and happy with how the night affected me. I was positive during a subsequent visit with my family that it was going better than the last because I was more comfortable with myself around my intimidating family, a result of a theme of my acid trip…. but I’ll get to all that later. So bear with me =).
Friends: T ingested his 2C-I around 8ish, early because his body reacts slowly.
M ate 2C-B at 9.
Bluedolphin and I on the acid we fed each other sometime in between.
Setting: Housemates were watching Pirates of the Caribbean while T boiled his bowl. The come-up during this was pleasant, I was a little high and excited, and didn’t mind that I could not distinguish the two. I began to get a little paranoid that the housemates were bothered by the drug-related conversation coming from the adjacent kitchen, or other minor judgments, and wanted to migrate somewhere private and comfy. Meanwhile a feeling was overcoming me, one I surely enjoyed while recognizing it’s message that I was in for hours of psychedelia I had not yet known.
The smells from the boiling resin were sketching me out and the guys seemed to be talking very loudly. So I went upstairs and attempted to play a computer game [Shisen-Sho] while I worked on my boyfriend’s playlist. After what felt like far too long to be alone while I was enjoying my new thought-process orientation I went downstairs. I would guesstimate 5 minutes. The room without my friends had been bare, cold, and uncomfortable. In the meantime the thoughts that were rushing over me were all interesting and seemingly sharable, which is unusual. I felt clever, no, I *was* clever, and craved my friends’ company. I said that T should stop boiling his pipe because the whole house stunk [this was unfortunately true], that we should be somewhere safer, listening to music, and talking. The kitchen was not right. I felt the other housemates judging me, and whether it was so or not, I wanted out.
Bd agreed that the boiling should stop and we were coming up fast enough to know a private room would be more comfortable.
Bluedolphin’s room had a nice atmosphere although it still felt bare. The music was not as interesting as it usually is, because I was doubled over on the bed. The ‘stomach-tightness’ discomfort that bd describes on some substances now made perfect sense. I felt constant waves, my stomach tightening and a full body buzz that was almost intolerable. I remember this from my first acid trip, although then extremely subtle, when the tightness felt more like butterflies. I talked to bd to calm myself, hoping that this would not continue so powerfully, and he expected it would to some extent. I figured that when the rest of the trip takes hold it would be at the back of my mind. After another 20 minutes or so my thoughts did not return to that sensation. For all I know it stopped.
Over the next hour my visuals kicked in. I don’t remember much in the way of conversation but I began to have hallucinations on another level I had never experienced before. I have just begun to hallucinate appropriately on hallucinogens, and recently they’ve been disappointingly similar: neon colors and patterns over things, moving patterns on tapestries, etc. While I’m seeing them I’m not bored, but writing reports for them reminds me of the lack of diversity. On the acid, not only did I have new and unique visuals but the actual hallucination that I had so long associated with acid introduced itself to me. Something that I was looking at would morph. Rather than seeing some pattern on top of an object, the object itself was malleable to my vision. Lying on the bed and paying less attention to my stomach, I stared at T for a long time, watching his head blend into the orange and flowery tapestry behind him, unblend and take skin-form, and then blend back again like Predator camouflage. I had never experienced such a true hallucination, and it was exciting. At this point it was still easily within my control, and I was aghast pondering the neuroscience, and the selectivity of this deeper hallucination.
The body high was fabulous. I felt exhilarated and purified. The most challenging reconciliation I have had after this experience was that I wanted to think and act and talk that way all the time. Me on acid seemed funnier, smarter, more independent and confident than regular me. I thought my brain somehow released the best in me for the trip, and I hoped that the ‘progress’ would remain afterwards. I realize now that the best path is not relying on acid to bring that out, but it is tempting. I remember remarking that I wanted to be on acid at all times, wouldn’t that be a better life? Wow. Seeing as I loved my new thought process orientation, body buzz, and interesting visual additions, and that I could tell the guys felt more comfortable around me, the acid was my new best friend. I truly felt natural.
When T was having too much difficulty smoking a bowl out bluedolphin’s window, a move to my room was proposed and followed after some expected delay. Around this time somehow we decided that smoking outside would be a delightful adventure, but we walked around to the back and turned around to go back inside. I’d estimate a low teens fahrenheit temp, and the boys immediately vetoed the idea [which was probably mine, I had worn many layers in preparation for tripping adventures]. I didn’t mind at all but missed the beautiful dancing snow. Somehow the light on the ground, or the light in my head, produced the movement of sea kelp into the snow, symmetrically moving, and sparkling at random. When we opened the window in my room for ventilation I stuck most of myself outside to watch the snow some more.
I felt more comfortable and cozy in my little room. It is anything but bare, fairly trippy with lots of warm lights. We remained here for most of the evening, standing and talking for hours. I wondered whether we should do something, aren’t we supposed to explore nature, etc, but none of us had qualms just enjoying each others’ company.
In the last month previous, I had begun to have problems smoking weed frequently. It resulted in paranoia over minor worries that seemed out of my control. I began to smoke on fewer nights a week and when I smoked I only took one or two hits per bowl. I was aware of this in the early evening but when I was offered a joint I toked and toked. To every offered bowl I accepted. No petty weedy worries penetrated my wonderful acidic shield of assuredness for the entire night.
Skip ahead, and the sentiment that we must move and do something has gathered. We’ve been talking about music, personal history, and theories someone should have written down. T had been brilliant in his creative conversation starters, throwing us tasty bones: ‘try this one guys, …..” and would have some trippy observation we would discuss for some time. My music collection was limited, but it did not determine the mood. M is grinning on his 2C-B but is otherwise fairly quiet, my boyfriend is having a difficult time communicating it seems, and T is having a weaker trip. I worry briefly that not being able to communicate well with my boyfriend is a bad sign, and share this concern. He is able to let me know that when he felt a synergy with T’s energy when they were tripping on acid together it was during meditation and the energy was merely different from those of us on other drugs. Besides, I reminded myself, this is introspective, I should enjoy myself while I’m this entertaining. ‘Weren’t we going to go somewhere?’
Into the living room and T sits down on the couch. This is not the change of location I had expected. There was a couple in the kitchen, I smiled and greeted them, then caught M’s glance, who had aptly noticed that the woman was crying and the man looked perturbed. We very awkwardly told to get T off of the couch because we felt they needed privacy, and headed upstairs.
Skip ahead to my room, after T and M had left for bed. I was peaking visually. Left alone with bluedolphin, we seemed to both be searching for a normal greeting or arrangement in the room. I think we stood there in the middle of the room talking, and that was when I saw it all, and that was when I founded my theory. At the time this was a perfectly suitable analogy, between the other hallucinogens I had taken and Star Trek. Hope you can all follow some geek references. See, the aliens on Star Trek are horribly limited bodily. They all must be at least human, plus some [or a lot of] make-up (minus a few exceptions, I would guess). They can’t take away or morph the actors’ faces, so they have no choice but to create faces with additions for each new species. I used to be able to hallucinate only additional visuals: patterns over solid materials and colors mostly, some patterns would move for art or cloth. As the camouflaging head of T demonstrated, this had changed. The actual perception of a thing or person was now also at the whim of my psychedelic mind. And it was both unnerving and magnificent.
Bluedophin was standing less than a foot away, and his neck began to disappear. I knew it was there, however a nearly invisible line had been sliced across his jaw, right below his ears, and below that line was swelled and unnaturally high. I didn’t like this because he looked monstrous so I went in for a hug and a few deep breaths, then pulled away. The line was still there so I decided to make it go away. I concentrated on my eyesight, on my buzz and my thoughts that I assumed held control. Cocking my head to one side and the other, closing one eye at a time, and changing the distance between us seemed futile, but soon enough the line was no longer where the paintbrush in my head chose to play. His left eye swelled to twice its normal size. This looked very strange. I wondered why it was happening. Soon his face quartered and Picasso-d. The right eye appeared on a separate plane of symmetry, and the googly left eye remained wrong-looking. The other two quarters of his lower face had planes of their own, and the next time I watched the ‘take the ticket!’ guy in Fear and Loathing in Las Vegas, the morphing was rather familiar. Picasso’s cubist painting of a woman resting on her arm on a table immediately came to mind. There was beauty there that I could not grasp from my surprised shock. This was not what I wanted to be seeing for the next 5 hours. I did not feel the need to flee, however, evidently I was certain that this strange face was my love and my steady rock for tripping, and so I held him closer and told him what bothered me. He told me later that this would completely change the atmosphere of the room for him, bringing a darker feel to his surroundings. He reacted wonderfully, calm and gently, reminding me that it was not real, but temporary. His voice of reason relieved me, but I chose to stay with my head nestled in his neck and collar for a little longer. With new courage after a visual break [as most other things were also changing, in motion, or just extra sparkly and beautiful] I stepped back an extra foot for a different distance. While his face began to morph again, I described what I was seeing and decided to lay down. The bed was comfortable but there was restlessness in me that was displaced to other parts of my body once I was horizontal. My toes had energy Charlie-horses, and I felt out of whack. We put in a movie because I decided I needed a break from this intense new worldview, but ignored it [Phish’s Bittersweet Motel], there was no attention span for external entertainment. My feet were making me uncomfortable so I decided I needed to center myself. I moved my feet a few inches to the right and was perfectly aligned and comfortable.
As time passed and visuals depleted in strength, looking over at my boyfriend was fun. His face remained more regular, and we attempted to share thoughts. I placed a memory of a dark and dusty room with a ride in it, like the Cobra. When I was trying to remember the name of it at our local amusement park, I realized this was merely a vivid image from a dream I had had years ago. Every once in a while I would have to realign myself, and I gently closed my fists for help. Over the night I had been astonished to notice how feminine my hands were. They looked small and felt even smaller. When I closed them I felt a welling of energy within my palms, seemingly a good amount of power. I raised my hands, opening and closing my fingers. My pinkies appeared to be malformed, lowering far away from the edge of my hand, where it appeared they should rest. For a moment I was terrified over this transformation, horribly disappointed in my mutation. Bluedolphin again felt the urgency of the situation when I showed him my tragic hands, and lovingly repeated that this was not permanent, that I should trust my hands are normal, considering lsd cannot transform the body. A large wave of relief settled over me. Phew. That was funny.
Intimacy attempts were interesting, although doomed. I was thoroughly enjoying his company, and as the night wore on my thoughts became erratic and jumbled, I would forget what I was talking about mid-sentence or what I was about to say, so it seemed that cognitive functioning was slowly expiring. We had shared our love for the drug itself, and he seemed to be resolving with himself something similar to my challenge: me on acid seemed purer, the version of myself that seems to best represent who I could be, but one I can’t seem to let out while sober. He was impressed with my courage and wit. While the acid grew weaker as we grew more tired, I thought about what I would be like tomorrow, and he seemed to be in a similarly relaxed and introspective state. I was curious all night what form his trip took, and what it meant for him. His quietness meant for me that I had a partner in my first experience, that this night would have transpired perhaps less productively if we had not both dropped, but that this night had been personal for both of us. This was my night, and he was there with me.
The day after we talked extensively over the fun, the conversations, and our breakthroughs. I know that the euphoria facilitated some of my comfort with myself and my behavior, and so following the trip I made sure to attempt another perspective of myself, after all I had indeed reconciled conflicts over my course of life and my boyfriend’s. And the next week I returned home to actually get along with my brother, and present myself to my parents with the assurance that my news was good, that my plans were appropriate, that my world was somehow a little safer for me. M had warned me that acid will change you, that you get a little crazier each time. One thing I did conclude was that acid strips away minutely at our socialization, encouraging some more individual convictions to take hold, hand in hand with the courage not to conform. At least that was the path I chose. I look forward to my next trip, which I hope will be somewhere warm, and will reinforce what I decided in these last months. But then again, excluding this self-righteousness and growth [I hope it hasn’t seemed like a smug report, it is personal and therefore self-centric], it was still a goddamn good time.
peace
... Great trip report by the way, stacks of detail and well expressed, thankyou 
