Based on my experiences.
The anticholinergic effect quietly raises dopamine levels,
like sunlight breaking through clouds.
Warm euphoria appears,
jaw tightens like on strong stimulants,
sex drive grows stronger.
Music feels close and rich,
as if played inside your own skull.
Then the pleasant glow fades,
replaced by a strange tiredness.
Your limbs feel heavy,
like wading through thick mud.
Every movement takes extra effort,
as if your nerves are half-asleep.
Speech becomes clumsy,
words turn into mumbles.
Your mouth is dry like sand,
your pupils are wide open.
Vision blurs,
focus slips away like water through fingers.
Now come the first hallucinations,
like quiet whispers from another world.
Spiders appear in the corners,
semi-transparent, moving at one steady speed.
You can spawn them with a glance,
like drawing with your eyes.
Doors open and close on their own,
small objects shift without reason.
These visions are predictable,
like a boring movie you have seen before.
Reality still feels solid,
you know what is real and what is not.
But soon the body load deepens,
a dull, uncomfortable weight.
You feel stupid, slow,
your thoughts get tangled.
Memory starts to crumble,
like old paper turning to dust.
You stand up, but forget why,
like a ghost in your own home.
Sentences break in the middle,
you forget what you were saying.
Short words are all you can manage,
“yes,” “no,” “give me that.”
At the same time, dream-like scenarios begin,
softly rising like mist.
You stare at the wall,
but in your mind you are somewhere else.
A forest, a strange room,
geometric shapes drifting by.
Then suddenly you snap back,
confused for a few seconds.
You realize you are in your apartment,
but the realization comes slowly.
The dream world grows stronger,
pulling you deeper.
Characters appear,
they talk to you, you respond.
When you speak out loud,
you snap back to reality with a jolt.
You are caught between two worlds,
like a sleepwalker straddling a fence.
Each moment you are more in the dream,
reality fades to grey.
You cannot remember what just happened,
your short-term memory is gone.
But dopamine still pushes you,
you feel an urge to do things.
You get up, forget why,
then think of something else.
You go to the kitchen,
and forget where you are.
You start cleaning,
but end up putting dirty plates on the bed.
You think you are late for something,
you dress like a clown, one shoe missing.
You believe there is a mouse in the room,
and chase it for hours.
You sit in front of a dead TV,
staring at the black screen.
Your mind projects a show,
a dream playing on the glass.
The hours pass like a fever,
you do nonsense, absurd things.
Your body moves on its own,
like a puppet with tangled strings.
You are awake, yet dreaming,
lost in a fog of forgotten intentions.
The heavy body load fades away,
or you just stop noticing it.
Your brain is possessed by something,
that does not need the usual receptors.
You can walk, talk nonsense,
but the words come out clear.
The experience is a blur of fragments,
a broken mirror of reality.
You wake up hours later,
bruised, confused, empty.
The memory of the dream stays,
like a half-remembered nightmare.
You know you were somewhere else,
but you cannot say where.
The anticholinergic effect quietly raises dopamine levels,
like sunlight breaking through clouds.
Warm euphoria appears,
jaw tightens like on strong stimulants,
sex drive grows stronger.
Music feels close and rich,
as if played inside your own skull.
Then the pleasant glow fades,
replaced by a strange tiredness.
Your limbs feel heavy,
like wading through thick mud.
Every movement takes extra effort,
as if your nerves are half-asleep.
Speech becomes clumsy,
words turn into mumbles.
Your mouth is dry like sand,
your pupils are wide open.
Vision blurs,
focus slips away like water through fingers.
Now come the first hallucinations,
like quiet whispers from another world.
Spiders appear in the corners,
semi-transparent, moving at one steady speed.
You can spawn them with a glance,
like drawing with your eyes.
Doors open and close on their own,
small objects shift without reason.
These visions are predictable,
like a boring movie you have seen before.
Reality still feels solid,
you know what is real and what is not.
But soon the body load deepens,
a dull, uncomfortable weight.
You feel stupid, slow,
your thoughts get tangled.
Memory starts to crumble,
like old paper turning to dust.
You stand up, but forget why,
like a ghost in your own home.
Sentences break in the middle,
you forget what you were saying.
Short words are all you can manage,
“yes,” “no,” “give me that.”
At the same time, dream-like scenarios begin,
softly rising like mist.
You stare at the wall,
but in your mind you are somewhere else.
A forest, a strange room,
geometric shapes drifting by.
Then suddenly you snap back,
confused for a few seconds.
You realize you are in your apartment,
but the realization comes slowly.
The dream world grows stronger,
pulling you deeper.
Characters appear,
they talk to you, you respond.
When you speak out loud,
you snap back to reality with a jolt.
You are caught between two worlds,
like a sleepwalker straddling a fence.
Each moment you are more in the dream,
reality fades to grey.
You cannot remember what just happened,
your short-term memory is gone.
But dopamine still pushes you,
you feel an urge to do things.
You get up, forget why,
then think of something else.
You go to the kitchen,
and forget where you are.
You start cleaning,
but end up putting dirty plates on the bed.
You think you are late for something,
you dress like a clown, one shoe missing.
You believe there is a mouse in the room,
and chase it for hours.
You sit in front of a dead TV,
staring at the black screen.
Your mind projects a show,
a dream playing on the glass.
The hours pass like a fever,
you do nonsense, absurd things.
Your body moves on its own,
like a puppet with tangled strings.
You are awake, yet dreaming,
lost in a fog of forgotten intentions.
The heavy body load fades away,
or you just stop noticing it.
Your brain is possessed by something,
that does not need the usual receptors.
You can walk, talk nonsense,
but the words come out clear.
The experience is a blur of fragments,
a broken mirror of reality.
You wake up hours later,
bruised, confused, empty.
The memory of the dream stays,
like a half-remembered nightmare.
You know you were somewhere else,
but you cannot say where.
