This is the problem with low dose dissociatives, I want MOAR. I mean this is sort of pleasant, but the feeling wants to amplify itself, my third eye returns to the door which remains firmly shut.
Regular bees are okay, they have this weird habit of invading property owned by my father no matter how many times he get's rid of them, but the only time I've ever been stung is when sitting on a bench under a poisoned hive and a dying bee fell on me and stung me. Maybe once when I was a small kid too. I don't fuck with no wasps or hornets.
Man I'm rambling, I'm not even doing anything, just sitting. Haha, GABA agonism + NMDA antagonism can definitely produce this behavior. At least I'll put on some music. And I guess I could get drunker?
Meant to get drunker, instead made herbal tea. It has like orange and lemongrass and stuff in it. Tea is fucking awesome.
Thinking back, in chronological order my most magical psych/dissociative experiences were: my first DXM experience (completely magical, 720mg, lots of vomit), my first 2c-e+high dose jwh-073 experience (crazy ass visuals, synaesthesia, it was kind of dissociative), 50mg 4-aco-dmt trip which was my second experience on that substance....one of the more emotionally difficult experiences of my life, taking 3-4x as much 4-meo-pcp as normal out of frustration and falling into a multi-hour hole (still have some memory from that. <sigh> being people rather than being multi-directional colorful rhythmic pulses that flow together is lame), IV 4-aco-dmt first time (entity contact).
Actually, that raises an interesting question I struggle with. How do I explain the universe being dissolved by vibrations of purple as the cosmic gears ground away, living a full and wonderful life as a color-pulse entity, and still having time to be a hermit in Canada before completely coming to? Most especially that middle part. I guess that's one of the things dissociative fans have to deal with, experiencing entire lifetimes that are incomprehensible to the human mind...(psychs too to an extent, I guess). Hahaha, if people ask what I've been doing I tell them I've been sitting around at home and while that would be the truth from their perspective, it leaves out so much. (This is also evidence how indulging in even small amounts of dissociatives gets me thinking about/obsessing over them).
PS - In the language of the flowers (Jap version, hanakotoba) the red spider lily means: final parting, lost memory, or abandonment. Naturally, I was not in a particularly good mood when I put it up, but I leave it to represent the fragility of my attempts at progress. Plus they're very pretty.
