DarkCode
Bluelighter
- Joined
- Nov 15, 2006
- Messages
- 679
Note:
I wrote this around 3:00am (April 7th, 2007) while the experience took place starting around 5:00pm (April 6th, 2007). Amphetamine, Adderal, was dosed at around 40mg IR + 10mg XR over the hours of 2:00 - 3:30pm. PCP was laced onto the cannabis unknowingly so the effects were unexpected and blissful.
------
Report:
Stimulation was a common factor of my life when the dust finally settled. I was self-medicating to calm the symptoms of my attention-deficit disorder. When the opportunity revealed itself to me, the chance to smoke some weed was exploited. Already experiencing a intense feeling of clarity on 50mg of amphetamine, Adderal, my inhibitions hit from my conscious. Gravity bongs were a thing of inexperience to me, but today, experience meant nothing. A free bowl pack of weed, in a quickly engineered bong, was replied to without delay. I grasped at my opportunity and got ready for a high.
The bowl was packed with care, but this toke’s efficiency didn’t matter, my tolerance was baseline after nine months of sobriety. My friends proclaimed the hit to be one to “fuck my mind more than any other trip.” However little did my friends and I know, but my bowl was laced with PCP. I was the only one smoking and the only one to later go to a realm of feeling “comfortably numb.” However, as most experiences of disassociation progress nausea and utter euphoria replaced my sense reality.
The hit left the chamber opaque; a dense white cloud of hot smoke filled the air. The tin-foil covering the opening, to inhale this textbook toke, was removed carefully to preserve all of the available smoke. My hand covered the opening preparing to fill my lungs and consume my mind. Once the chamber was pushed down into the water the smoke was left traveling deep into my lungs. I held the hot gases inside as seconds of eternity ticked onward. The exhale relieved my pressure but the cough, the pain; it was only a moment away. Perched up against the porch railing my lungs proceeded to expel remnants of the smoke my mind had just peaked towards. The effects were sharp but not the ones that would leave my mind and body incapacitated for the next few hours, those effects would come on soon.
The gravity bong’s assembly, though quick, was not relevant in duration to the efficiency in which the disassembly seemed to progress in an instant. The bucket and plastic chamber were hidden and cleaned quickly. The numbness of my muscles was fair warning for the oncoming analgesia that numbed my sense of perception. My visions of the familiar surroundings were replaced by colorful substitutions only dreams allowed to be experienced. I was lying down on my bed physically, but mentally I was floating.
Pulsing pleasures of painless neuropathy, feelings of my senses stimulated to boundaries of sanity. Soon the pulsating responses overwhelmed me and my reflexes sparked a chain of events. The heave, and vomiting that ensued were noticeable, and quite debilitating, but my feelings of paralysis, were the plane of reality long forgotten. Twisting, turning, shifting colors consumed my mind. My eyelids were shut, but my vision was filled.
The reactions of my friends to help me were notable, they were worried for my safety, but my mind was muted as the pleasure left my voice null. The mess of nausea encompassed my senses as the act of throwing up felt necessary to purge the toxins from my system. The toxins however were trapped against my neurons, and toxicity was only an opinion of how high I really was. The amphetamines and cannabis only enhanced my trip.
My friends watched out for me, and were diligent to respond carefully. The response seemingly programmed into my system was “I’m tripping man, and it’s fucking awesome.” The trip was just beginning and this high, oh it got much better. As the moments of my rise upon the peak played out, the words, “I think that weed was laced with PCP,” were leaving my questions answered. My nausea, my numbness, my euphoria were diluted by the immense psychoactive experience in front of me.
My friends helped me up and into my bed with care. The time for my experience to be spent crouched over a bucket on the floor was over. The towel placed over my forehead, by my friend, was calming as the external lights and sounds faded out. My perception of lights was exotic, northern in nature, almost as if when I closed my eyes visualizations of music around me were played out. As beats of the music shifted and lyrics became diverse my memory became tainted. Moments of remembrance and partial sanity became sporadic as my stresses became broken tensions. My family was as misinformed by my status as was my mental processes. Nothing could ruin my trip, not even the racing heart, irregular breathing, slurred speech and past nausea. My parent’s felt I was sick, blinded by my cunning responses struggling to sound sane. My laid back trip was in full force and life was only going to get better.
Time was lost in the experience and my bodily feelings were reversed. My clarity was given up to another being because it was not in my scope of visualizations even at this moment. When my sanity started to refill my memory with my personality, I began to reacquire my surroundings mentally. It was late when my conscious returned but the feelings of detachment from physical sensations was continued. Walking, talking, even relaxing was unlike anything I have ever experienced before. It was as if I had been shot full of opiate sensations and jacked up on blurring feelings of amphetamines, it was a successful chase of the dragon this time. My high was like my first times with amphetamines, cannabis, cocaine, and opiates combined into a balanced package of ultimate disassociation, pure bliss.
Upon waking from my amnesia of the peaked effects, the sensation of stimulation and comfortable numbness continued. My mind was lost within levels of pleasure, vision lost within my returning reality. There was no way to describe my initial responses to the event of my conscious return, but it was awe inspiring. My mind was sporadically focused for a few hours following my awakening, but as focus returned the experience felt mind-altering, educational to what psychedelic really meant. Timothy Leary would be speechless in wake of an experience similar to my own. “Turn on, tune in, drop out” was my new motto, and nothing could reverse the mental momentum I carried over the previous hours.
As my recollection of the event is sharp and truthful I wrote this report. I wanted to tell the community what a trip, a simulated adrenaline-rush of confusion, disassociation, and euphoria was really in my mind. My experience may be special and rare, but is one to remember regardless of its nauseating beginning and forgetful ending. Insomnia is well-worth the pulsing pleasures still haunting my slowing thawing mind. Numbness, the frozen feeling of my senses is slowly dissipating but its smooth comedown, once a rocky confusion, is worth the lost hours of my sanity. My drug experiences have been limited and oddly intellectual, but none have come close to that of my experience today, with PCP. The combination of amphetamines, cannabis, and PCP left me in another realm, floating above a higher plateau, it made me truly “comfortably numb.”
I wrote this around 3:00am (April 7th, 2007) while the experience took place starting around 5:00pm (April 6th, 2007). Amphetamine, Adderal, was dosed at around 40mg IR + 10mg XR over the hours of 2:00 - 3:30pm. PCP was laced onto the cannabis unknowingly so the effects were unexpected and blissful.
------
Report:
Stimulation was a common factor of my life when the dust finally settled. I was self-medicating to calm the symptoms of my attention-deficit disorder. When the opportunity revealed itself to me, the chance to smoke some weed was exploited. Already experiencing a intense feeling of clarity on 50mg of amphetamine, Adderal, my inhibitions hit from my conscious. Gravity bongs were a thing of inexperience to me, but today, experience meant nothing. A free bowl pack of weed, in a quickly engineered bong, was replied to without delay. I grasped at my opportunity and got ready for a high.
The bowl was packed with care, but this toke’s efficiency didn’t matter, my tolerance was baseline after nine months of sobriety. My friends proclaimed the hit to be one to “fuck my mind more than any other trip.” However little did my friends and I know, but my bowl was laced with PCP. I was the only one smoking and the only one to later go to a realm of feeling “comfortably numb.” However, as most experiences of disassociation progress nausea and utter euphoria replaced my sense reality.
The hit left the chamber opaque; a dense white cloud of hot smoke filled the air. The tin-foil covering the opening, to inhale this textbook toke, was removed carefully to preserve all of the available smoke. My hand covered the opening preparing to fill my lungs and consume my mind. Once the chamber was pushed down into the water the smoke was left traveling deep into my lungs. I held the hot gases inside as seconds of eternity ticked onward. The exhale relieved my pressure but the cough, the pain; it was only a moment away. Perched up against the porch railing my lungs proceeded to expel remnants of the smoke my mind had just peaked towards. The effects were sharp but not the ones that would leave my mind and body incapacitated for the next few hours, those effects would come on soon.
The gravity bong’s assembly, though quick, was not relevant in duration to the efficiency in which the disassembly seemed to progress in an instant. The bucket and plastic chamber were hidden and cleaned quickly. The numbness of my muscles was fair warning for the oncoming analgesia that numbed my sense of perception. My visions of the familiar surroundings were replaced by colorful substitutions only dreams allowed to be experienced. I was lying down on my bed physically, but mentally I was floating.
Pulsing pleasures of painless neuropathy, feelings of my senses stimulated to boundaries of sanity. Soon the pulsating responses overwhelmed me and my reflexes sparked a chain of events. The heave, and vomiting that ensued were noticeable, and quite debilitating, but my feelings of paralysis, were the plane of reality long forgotten. Twisting, turning, shifting colors consumed my mind. My eyelids were shut, but my vision was filled.
The reactions of my friends to help me were notable, they were worried for my safety, but my mind was muted as the pleasure left my voice null. The mess of nausea encompassed my senses as the act of throwing up felt necessary to purge the toxins from my system. The toxins however were trapped against my neurons, and toxicity was only an opinion of how high I really was. The amphetamines and cannabis only enhanced my trip.
My friends watched out for me, and were diligent to respond carefully. The response seemingly programmed into my system was “I’m tripping man, and it’s fucking awesome.” The trip was just beginning and this high, oh it got much better. As the moments of my rise upon the peak played out, the words, “I think that weed was laced with PCP,” were leaving my questions answered. My nausea, my numbness, my euphoria were diluted by the immense psychoactive experience in front of me.
My friends helped me up and into my bed with care. The time for my experience to be spent crouched over a bucket on the floor was over. The towel placed over my forehead, by my friend, was calming as the external lights and sounds faded out. My perception of lights was exotic, northern in nature, almost as if when I closed my eyes visualizations of music around me were played out. As beats of the music shifted and lyrics became diverse my memory became tainted. Moments of remembrance and partial sanity became sporadic as my stresses became broken tensions. My family was as misinformed by my status as was my mental processes. Nothing could ruin my trip, not even the racing heart, irregular breathing, slurred speech and past nausea. My parent’s felt I was sick, blinded by my cunning responses struggling to sound sane. My laid back trip was in full force and life was only going to get better.
Time was lost in the experience and my bodily feelings were reversed. My clarity was given up to another being because it was not in my scope of visualizations even at this moment. When my sanity started to refill my memory with my personality, I began to reacquire my surroundings mentally. It was late when my conscious returned but the feelings of detachment from physical sensations was continued. Walking, talking, even relaxing was unlike anything I have ever experienced before. It was as if I had been shot full of opiate sensations and jacked up on blurring feelings of amphetamines, it was a successful chase of the dragon this time. My high was like my first times with amphetamines, cannabis, cocaine, and opiates combined into a balanced package of ultimate disassociation, pure bliss.
Upon waking from my amnesia of the peaked effects, the sensation of stimulation and comfortable numbness continued. My mind was lost within levels of pleasure, vision lost within my returning reality. There was no way to describe my initial responses to the event of my conscious return, but it was awe inspiring. My mind was sporadically focused for a few hours following my awakening, but as focus returned the experience felt mind-altering, educational to what psychedelic really meant. Timothy Leary would be speechless in wake of an experience similar to my own. “Turn on, tune in, drop out” was my new motto, and nothing could reverse the mental momentum I carried over the previous hours.
As my recollection of the event is sharp and truthful I wrote this report. I wanted to tell the community what a trip, a simulated adrenaline-rush of confusion, disassociation, and euphoria was really in my mind. My experience may be special and rare, but is one to remember regardless of its nauseating beginning and forgetful ending. Insomnia is well-worth the pulsing pleasures still haunting my slowing thawing mind. Numbness, the frozen feeling of my senses is slowly dissipating but its smooth comedown, once a rocky confusion, is worth the lost hours of my sanity. My drug experiences have been limited and oddly intellectual, but none have come close to that of my experience today, with PCP. The combination of amphetamines, cannabis, and PCP left me in another realm, floating above a higher plateau, it made me truly “comfortably numb.”
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