Dondante
Bluelighter
- Joined
- Dec 6, 2005
- Messages
- 1,641
I’m doubtful that this experience will add much to the collective knowledge about 3-MeO-PCP, but I thought it might be worth sharing nonetheless. It was a bit of a shake-up to say the least. I posted about the experience in segments in the PD social, but I’ll add it here for posterity since the first version is no longer accessible.
T+0:00 10 mg of 3-MeO-PCP insufflated
T+1:00 2 tabs of LSD
T+4:00 10 mg Psilocin, 50 mg Ketamine, and 1-2 mg 3-MeO-PCP IM
A sense of predestination was heavy early on, thanks to a ghostly visitation and a series of eerily coincident events.
A good friend of mine, previously my philosophy instructor in undergrad, informed me about a band, RATATAT, that his younger brother had been listening to in the days before his accidental, but fatal hydromorphone overdose. His brother was also an acquaintance, but we failed to connect as he embarked on a downward spiral of polydrug abuse and multiple stretches of rehab. He seemed unreachable…brilliant kid, maintained a near perfect GPA at a top university, but had a self-destructive drive that nobody seemed able to penetrate. A deep sense of sorrow fills me as I think about him and the pain he must have experienced by repeatedly letting down those that cared about him most.
His ghost, remnants of patterns generated in life, fundamentally shaped the experience, as I made a point to listen to RATATAT as the compound took hold. The sense of predestination was magnified by the fact that the first video contained graphic sequences of death and destruction, and then further by the discovery that the band was playing live in my home state at the exact time that I first listened. Finally, to further strengthen this emerging lattice of interrelationships, I posted this hyperlink, labeling it 'Explosion', before I'd even watched the video, which turned out to be a mix of bombs and footage of the Hindenburg disaster. In retrospect, I may have listened to the video before posting, and the theme of explosions certainly didn’t require clairvoyance. That said, extra-sensory perception seemed to be the most obvious explanation at the time. Throughout the trip, analogies of explosions seemed to materialize in my mind’s eye. Words like detonation, ground zero, and blast radius seemed to all relate to my experience – to the effect of the deceased friend on lives around him, and to the ongoing effects of this ghost that were shaping my awareness.
Overall, the experience proved to be a rollercoaster. The 3-MeO-PCP catalyzed a sense of grandiosity and created room for delusional thinking, though I don’t believe that I had abandoned rationality completely, at least not yet. On some level I understood that I was allowing this to unfold. The overwhelming sense of power and purpose resulted in me unexpectedly consuming two tabs of LSD.
About two hours later, I was down and tripping on LSD, and not sure what to do with myself. I made another rash decision, and chose to hammer my receptors with 10 mg psilocin, 50 mg ketamine, and 1-2 mg 3-meo-pcp IM. What followed was a god-awful state of delirium with sporadic periods of full-on, god-like delusions and periods of hellish mindfuckery that persisted for 2-3 hours. Fortunately, after coming down, still tripping on the LSD, I started to feel surprisingly good, amazingly good, in fact. Thank God, I was worried I'd caused some irreparable psychological damage.
My experience was that of splattered viscera – of death, decay, and desiccation – a messy, horrifying hallucinosis. Some rogue asteroid had careened through though my delicate orbit, crushing and warping my experiential manifold into grotesque distortions. The actuality of this delirium state defies any meaningful description.
At some point, when the full-on sensorial assault was in retreat – at which time all I could do was desperately continue the vital inhalations and exhalations that had brought me this far – I started repeating my wife’s name, “Miriam,” with absolutely no understanding of the meaning held by those syllables. This mantra continued, almost involuntarily, a solid chain that on some level I hoped would tow me back onto solid ground. Instead, I became enveloped by an impossibly complex delusion that I, God, was responsible for creating meaning for the sounds, “mir′ē əm.” The sounds, the text, and the physicality of the universe did not actually exist until I brought them into being. I continued to repeat my mantra, still hoping that it would lead me out of the horrific chaos. In desperation, I hammered out the keys, M-I-R-I-A-M, into Google’s search engine, and was faced with alien hieroglyphs. The text was absolutely meaningless. I lost my footing and plummeted back into oblivion.
It was a slow, deliberate trudge back across hallucinatory remnants strewn throughout my psyche, but gradually, the fog cleared and I have never been so thankful in my entire life.
At sunrise on Sunday morning, I am still going strong on LSD. It’s a beautiful day. I’m again unsure of what to do with myself. I take 0.20 mg alprazolam, thinking I’d relax and maybe sleep, but with the sunrise, I feel my natural circadian rhythm kicking in and a building sense of wakefulness. After a coffee, some nutritious cereal, and 5 mg Adderall, I decide to go for a run. The morning is perfect - temperature, humidity, breeze, sunlight. I jogged to a nearby biological reserve and watched the sunlight dance through the early autumn foliage. I stood, beholden to nature, as the day transpired around me. The birds went about their daily routine - hawks cruising between powerful staccato wingbeats, vultures soaring effortlessly, various birds and insects fluttering by. I laid on the forest floor and looked up for at least an hour at the verdant canopy, as the light filtered through the clerestory in my feracious cathedral, simply thankful to be alive.
Life seems so straight-forward and transparent right now. I just had a few long, beautiful, flawlessly flowing conversations (one with my wife in India via video gchat, another with my sister-in-law in Colorado, and finally a phone call with a close friend that recently moved across the county to Seattle). Contentedness and serenity are the words that come to mind. Occasionally, I feel tears of joy welling up.
The beauty of the post-apocalypse, Shangri-la phase of the experience is that the message was simple and clear. The world is as it must be; I accept it graciously in spite of all cruelty and suffering. I must do my part, both in taking care of myself and in being kind to others. I suppose it's something that I will continue to try and integrate, as it was rediscovering an enlightened way to live, a glimpse of Samadhi. As I waxed romantic, a piece of Wordsworth poetry came to mind, from ‘Tintern Abbey’.
Many of the positive effects have persisted through Tuesday and even into Wednesday. An unusual inner calm was present and I found it effortless to exude warmth to people I interacted with, which in turn created feedback loop of positivity.
As strange as it may sound, I've already concluded that there's not much to figure out from the middle segment of the trip. It was pure psychotic absurdity. It's amazing how lucid my memory is of much of the event, and yet it hasn't shown any hints of PTSD-like after effects. Quite the opposite, I feel like I have been instilled with a renewed vitality.
LSD is good medicine. In the words of Huxley, it is a gratuitous grace.
Tagged by bindingaffinity
substancecode_3meopcp
substancecode_achs
substancecode_dissociatives
substancecode_lsd
substancecode_lysergamides
substancecode_ketamine
substancecode_4hodmt
substancecode_tryptamines
_combo_
explevel_experienced
exptype_positive
exptype_difficult
roacode_buccal
roacode_nasal
roacode_im
T+0:00 10 mg of 3-MeO-PCP insufflated
T+1:00 2 tabs of LSD
T+4:00 10 mg Psilocin, 50 mg Ketamine, and 1-2 mg 3-MeO-PCP IM
A sense of predestination was heavy early on, thanks to a ghostly visitation and a series of eerily coincident events.
A good friend of mine, previously my philosophy instructor in undergrad, informed me about a band, RATATAT, that his younger brother had been listening to in the days before his accidental, but fatal hydromorphone overdose. His brother was also an acquaintance, but we failed to connect as he embarked on a downward spiral of polydrug abuse and multiple stretches of rehab. He seemed unreachable…brilliant kid, maintained a near perfect GPA at a top university, but had a self-destructive drive that nobody seemed able to penetrate. A deep sense of sorrow fills me as I think about him and the pain he must have experienced by repeatedly letting down those that cared about him most.
His ghost, remnants of patterns generated in life, fundamentally shaped the experience, as I made a point to listen to RATATAT as the compound took hold. The sense of predestination was magnified by the fact that the first video contained graphic sequences of death and destruction, and then further by the discovery that the band was playing live in my home state at the exact time that I first listened. Finally, to further strengthen this emerging lattice of interrelationships, I posted this hyperlink, labeling it 'Explosion', before I'd even watched the video, which turned out to be a mix of bombs and footage of the Hindenburg disaster. In retrospect, I may have listened to the video before posting, and the theme of explosions certainly didn’t require clairvoyance. That said, extra-sensory perception seemed to be the most obvious explanation at the time. Throughout the trip, analogies of explosions seemed to materialize in my mind’s eye. Words like detonation, ground zero, and blast radius seemed to all relate to my experience – to the effect of the deceased friend on lives around him, and to the ongoing effects of this ghost that were shaping my awareness.
Overall, the experience proved to be a rollercoaster. The 3-MeO-PCP catalyzed a sense of grandiosity and created room for delusional thinking, though I don’t believe that I had abandoned rationality completely, at least not yet. On some level I understood that I was allowing this to unfold. The overwhelming sense of power and purpose resulted in me unexpectedly consuming two tabs of LSD.
About two hours later, I was down and tripping on LSD, and not sure what to do with myself. I made another rash decision, and chose to hammer my receptors with 10 mg psilocin, 50 mg ketamine, and 1-2 mg 3-meo-pcp IM. What followed was a god-awful state of delirium with sporadic periods of full-on, god-like delusions and periods of hellish mindfuckery that persisted for 2-3 hours. Fortunately, after coming down, still tripping on the LSD, I started to feel surprisingly good, amazingly good, in fact. Thank God, I was worried I'd caused some irreparable psychological damage.
My experience was that of splattered viscera – of death, decay, and desiccation – a messy, horrifying hallucinosis. Some rogue asteroid had careened through though my delicate orbit, crushing and warping my experiential manifold into grotesque distortions. The actuality of this delirium state defies any meaningful description.
At some point, when the full-on sensorial assault was in retreat – at which time all I could do was desperately continue the vital inhalations and exhalations that had brought me this far – I started repeating my wife’s name, “Miriam,” with absolutely no understanding of the meaning held by those syllables. This mantra continued, almost involuntarily, a solid chain that on some level I hoped would tow me back onto solid ground. Instead, I became enveloped by an impossibly complex delusion that I, God, was responsible for creating meaning for the sounds, “mir′ē əm.” The sounds, the text, and the physicality of the universe did not actually exist until I brought them into being. I continued to repeat my mantra, still hoping that it would lead me out of the horrific chaos. In desperation, I hammered out the keys, M-I-R-I-A-M, into Google’s search engine, and was faced with alien hieroglyphs. The text was absolutely meaningless. I lost my footing and plummeted back into oblivion.
It was a slow, deliberate trudge back across hallucinatory remnants strewn throughout my psyche, but gradually, the fog cleared and I have never been so thankful in my entire life.
At sunrise on Sunday morning, I am still going strong on LSD. It’s a beautiful day. I’m again unsure of what to do with myself. I take 0.20 mg alprazolam, thinking I’d relax and maybe sleep, but with the sunrise, I feel my natural circadian rhythm kicking in and a building sense of wakefulness. After a coffee, some nutritious cereal, and 5 mg Adderall, I decide to go for a run. The morning is perfect - temperature, humidity, breeze, sunlight. I jogged to a nearby biological reserve and watched the sunlight dance through the early autumn foliage. I stood, beholden to nature, as the day transpired around me. The birds went about their daily routine - hawks cruising between powerful staccato wingbeats, vultures soaring effortlessly, various birds and insects fluttering by. I laid on the forest floor and looked up for at least an hour at the verdant canopy, as the light filtered through the clerestory in my feracious cathedral, simply thankful to be alive.
Life seems so straight-forward and transparent right now. I just had a few long, beautiful, flawlessly flowing conversations (one with my wife in India via video gchat, another with my sister-in-law in Colorado, and finally a phone call with a close friend that recently moved across the county to Seattle). Contentedness and serenity are the words that come to mind. Occasionally, I feel tears of joy welling up.
The beauty of the post-apocalypse, Shangri-la phase of the experience is that the message was simple and clear. The world is as it must be; I accept it graciously in spite of all cruelty and suffering. I must do my part, both in taking care of myself and in being kind to others. I suppose it's something that I will continue to try and integrate, as it was rediscovering an enlightened way to live, a glimpse of Samadhi. As I waxed romantic, a piece of Wordsworth poetry came to mind, from ‘Tintern Abbey’.
And I have felt
A presence that disturbs me with joy
Of elevated thoughts; a sense sublime
Of something far more deeply interfused,
Whose dwelling is the light of setting suns,
And the round ocean and the living air,
And the blue sky, and in the mind of man:
A motion and a spirit, that impels
All thinking things, all objects of thought,
And rolls through these things. Therefore am I still
A lover of the meadows and the woods,
And mountains; and of all that we behold
From this green earth;
A presence that disturbs me with joy
Of elevated thoughts; a sense sublime
Of something far more deeply interfused,
Whose dwelling is the light of setting suns,
And the round ocean and the living air,
And the blue sky, and in the mind of man:
A motion and a spirit, that impels
All thinking things, all objects of thought,
And rolls through these things. Therefore am I still
A lover of the meadows and the woods,
And mountains; and of all that we behold
From this green earth;
Many of the positive effects have persisted through Tuesday and even into Wednesday. An unusual inner calm was present and I found it effortless to exude warmth to people I interacted with, which in turn created feedback loop of positivity.
As strange as it may sound, I've already concluded that there's not much to figure out from the middle segment of the trip. It was pure psychotic absurdity. It's amazing how lucid my memory is of much of the event, and yet it hasn't shown any hints of PTSD-like after effects. Quite the opposite, I feel like I have been instilled with a renewed vitality.
LSD is good medicine. In the words of Huxley, it is a gratuitous grace.
Tagged by bindingaffinity
substancecode_3meopcp
substancecode_achs
substancecode_dissociatives
substancecode_lsd
substancecode_lysergamides
substancecode_ketamine
substancecode_4hodmt
substancecode_tryptamines
_combo_
explevel_experienced
exptype_positive
exptype_difficult
roacode_buccal
roacode_nasal
roacode_im
Last edited by a moderator:
.