rebinator
Bluelighter
What can I say about the "zipper"?
The trip in question happened about a month ago...
Usually the effects range from entertaining physical environment transformations, through uncontrollable dissociations, all the way to decidedly-less-than-pleasant brushes with death (one time I thought the house I was in was garotting me... the sharpness in the neck was only the hit still moving through my windpipe). I would definitely file this time with the third type.
At approximately eight-thirty pm, I took the hit from a bowl half-filled with the shake from the bottom of a retail can of Salvia 10x. I was fully clothed, and enjoying the fruits of a minor serotonin surplus.
Standard, harsh, hot smoke, standard implosion of reality upon the tail end of exhale...
...and then the most dysphoric sense of imminent dissolution possible. My family was all there (in fact, they were all out shopping the entire time), and the end of the universe was nigh. Not only was the big "nothing" coming, but also, because reality had been the product of a soon-to-be-awake dreamer, there actually had never been one at all, and it was time for us to take our places in eternity.
Still possessing some memory, I remember being with my folks at the top of the stairs in the house, discussing the coming apocalypse. I remember thinking "but I was just downstairs smoking Salvia a minute ago! How'd we get to the end of _everything_?" It seems like no-one is ever as prepared for annihilation as they imagine themselves to be without some spiritual toughening.
But of course, the spinning, zipping curtain came, took out my family member by member as I watched, thinking to myself, "well, I guess I had a good run" as the hunter came for me. I braced myself for the onslaught of nothingness, and was dissected right down to whatever inside this brain constitutes the 'core'. Nothingness? More like just 'is'.
I had the somewhat dubious pleasure of experiencing at least two other dismantling/contracting/fold-ins, each culminating in the same self-as-geometric-point-endgame, with continued awareness. One of them even involved flying over a lego-landish brick-flavored landscape, while others involved more nonsensical slicing and dicing. It was during the last of these that I suddenly became aware that I was still tripping.
And had been for hours, or so I thought. Another awareness that crept back was that I was running around the house in circles, at one point even trying the front door (at this point my reptilian brain, now privy to the nugget that no end/'death' was coming quite just yet was trying to 'save' me).
My family reappeared, my mom saying that I had been tripping for hours, and I needed medical attention. At around this point, I 'realized' that I was actually moving up-and-down stairs like, say, the Flash, or Superman, and able to carry on conversation with people without even skipping a nuance.
At that point, I realized the floor was spinning under me clockwise (I don't know about you, but Salvia makes me a compulsive left turner... there's no pleasure like being forced to dance left by the Lady in a good mood, but I digress), and that I was, in fact, alive, and going to be for some time.
The moment where I came back, I was running downstairs, bouncing off walls... I quickly pulled myself together and went into my room.
There was a hurricane-like swath of clutter, tipped glasses, cd-piles overthrown, my computer tower was knocked down. The arc was smooth and right-concaved, as if I had leapt up from my intended trip couch already "lefted", and with absolutely no sense of coordination, or for that matter, pain. I had absolutely no recollection of trashing my bedroom in such a way (the desk looked literally like I had tried to clean it with a push-broom).
The sense of derealization continued for another two hours, and eventually I resettled into life with a new sense of connectedness and spirit.
The illusion of dissolution is common with extreme-and-cross-dosing, but the evidence of macroscale/external attempts to interact was quite disturbing, if a little funny at first. To say nothing of the fact that I was _alone_ in the house (and therefore sitter-free) the _whole_time_.
For next time, I seriously want to do it in a large fenced flat area at night. Much smaller dosages... and no adjuncts, sorrows or issues.
Tagged by White Rose
substancecode_salvia
substancecode_dissociatives
explevel_firsttime
explevel_retrospective
exptype_positive
roacode_smoked
roacode_inhaled
The trip in question happened about a month ago...
Usually the effects range from entertaining physical environment transformations, through uncontrollable dissociations, all the way to decidedly-less-than-pleasant brushes with death (one time I thought the house I was in was garotting me... the sharpness in the neck was only the hit still moving through my windpipe). I would definitely file this time with the third type.
At approximately eight-thirty pm, I took the hit from a bowl half-filled with the shake from the bottom of a retail can of Salvia 10x. I was fully clothed, and enjoying the fruits of a minor serotonin surplus.
Standard, harsh, hot smoke, standard implosion of reality upon the tail end of exhale...
...and then the most dysphoric sense of imminent dissolution possible. My family was all there (in fact, they were all out shopping the entire time), and the end of the universe was nigh. Not only was the big "nothing" coming, but also, because reality had been the product of a soon-to-be-awake dreamer, there actually had never been one at all, and it was time for us to take our places in eternity.
Still possessing some memory, I remember being with my folks at the top of the stairs in the house, discussing the coming apocalypse. I remember thinking "but I was just downstairs smoking Salvia a minute ago! How'd we get to the end of _everything_?" It seems like no-one is ever as prepared for annihilation as they imagine themselves to be without some spiritual toughening.
But of course, the spinning, zipping curtain came, took out my family member by member as I watched, thinking to myself, "well, I guess I had a good run" as the hunter came for me. I braced myself for the onslaught of nothingness, and was dissected right down to whatever inside this brain constitutes the 'core'. Nothingness? More like just 'is'.
I had the somewhat dubious pleasure of experiencing at least two other dismantling/contracting/fold-ins, each culminating in the same self-as-geometric-point-endgame, with continued awareness. One of them even involved flying over a lego-landish brick-flavored landscape, while others involved more nonsensical slicing and dicing. It was during the last of these that I suddenly became aware that I was still tripping.
And had been for hours, or so I thought. Another awareness that crept back was that I was running around the house in circles, at one point even trying the front door (at this point my reptilian brain, now privy to the nugget that no end/'death' was coming quite just yet was trying to 'save' me).
My family reappeared, my mom saying that I had been tripping for hours, and I needed medical attention. At around this point, I 'realized' that I was actually moving up-and-down stairs like, say, the Flash, or Superman, and able to carry on conversation with people without even skipping a nuance.
At that point, I realized the floor was spinning under me clockwise (I don't know about you, but Salvia makes me a compulsive left turner... there's no pleasure like being forced to dance left by the Lady in a good mood, but I digress), and that I was, in fact, alive, and going to be for some time.
The moment where I came back, I was running downstairs, bouncing off walls... I quickly pulled myself together and went into my room.
There was a hurricane-like swath of clutter, tipped glasses, cd-piles overthrown, my computer tower was knocked down. The arc was smooth and right-concaved, as if I had leapt up from my intended trip couch already "lefted", and with absolutely no sense of coordination, or for that matter, pain. I had absolutely no recollection of trashing my bedroom in such a way (the desk looked literally like I had tried to clean it with a push-broom).
The sense of derealization continued for another two hours, and eventually I resettled into life with a new sense of connectedness and spirit.
The illusion of dissolution is common with extreme-and-cross-dosing, but the evidence of macroscale/external attempts to interact was quite disturbing, if a little funny at first. To say nothing of the fact that I was _alone_ in the house (and therefore sitter-free) the _whole_time_.
For next time, I seriously want to do it in a large fenced flat area at night. Much smaller dosages... and no adjuncts, sorrows or issues.
Tagged by White Rose
substancecode_salvia
substancecode_dissociatives
explevel_firsttime
explevel_retrospective
exptype_positive
roacode_smoked
roacode_inhaled
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