4-HO-MET ++ LSD + 2C-B + O-PCE

*This report dedicated to the loving memory of RT. I have never met someone so mysterious and unique, so full of vitality and joy. Most unique was the sheer and seemingly unconditional kindness you showed me as a near stranger. I have never met someone who seemed to be so enamored with the joys of life and the joy of being alive. Rest in peace and party forever my dear friend.*
Age: 20

Weight: 120 lbs

Dosage: 20 mg 4-HO-MET oral in solution, 100 ug LSD sublingual, 25 mg 2C-B Intranasal, 27 mg O-PCE Intranasal

Setting: My apartment

We were hosting another party at my house. I decided my drug of choice this time around would be 4-HO-MET. In my report on it, I go on about the bodyload and intensity of it. I had another experience with this chemical more recently, where similarities to my darling 4-AcO-MET arose. It was a powerful visual experience with incredible emotional depth, with what felt like intense mental enhancement on the comedown. It wasn’t the 4-AcO-MET delusions of grandeur feeling, rather this felt true and real. So I figured it would be a good state to party in. All the rest… well as the night wore on, people were doing a lot of hallucinogens at my house. I decided I would join in the fun. So I just kept stacking, and stacking… and stacking… I think I was trying to impress people. I woke up that afternoon feeling the afterglow of the 3-MeO-PCP I took the night before.

T0:00-Dose the 4-HO-MET and take a shower.

T0:25-Beginning to feel the onset as I step out of the shower. Just a bit of uneasiness in my body and loss of equilibrium. I am feeling lighter, and it feels like a flame is starting to smolder inside of me.

T0:45-The bodyload sets in. It’s not even nausea, but an aching in my gut and in my limbs. It feels like a parasite overstaying its welcome and latching onto my flesh for its own sick game. But whatever, I am having fun, I am in a whimsical garden of my thoughts. I laze around my room and listen to music and smoke weed.

T1:20- I go outside and play in my garden. I am appalled to see swarms of aphids eating my freshly planted herb garden. While upsetting, I must accept that this is simply part of nature, and I hope upon hope that some organism will come and devour them. I remember that I had a clutch of mantis eggs dormant in the fridge- they would be perfect pest control. Now that the weather is nice, I decide to put them out to hatch. The sun is beautiful, it’s such a pleasant day. The air feels like a crystal clear prism through which the sunlight has its splendor and glory amplified. The confidence-boosting empathogenic effects of the 4-HO-MET are beginning to kick in. I feel so happy, the sky and the plants and the air feel so nice, everything is so bright and glorious and everything is great. I am so stoked to have this party, everything will turn out okay. Unfortunately this premonition is a little off base. I spend a while looking very closely at plants and collecting insects. I notice the visual effects are mild enough that they don’t impair this activity at all.

T2:40-The first guest has arrived. We hang out in my room and play videogames. It turns out he has some 4-HO-MET too. He also doses, to be on my level. I am feeling everything so deeply. We go downstairs and hang out with my roommate. He is playing music very loudly and it sounds incredible. The bass is creamy and rich, the high and mid ranges dance and twirl through the air. Socializing feels only slightly awkward but very whimsical. Everything just feels so nice. Visual effects have been adorning the world this entire time, although I have not been paying them much mind.  They are certainly not intrusive by any means, just simply rainbow colors parading around.

T3:40-More people show up. I am socializing with everyone, everything is particularly hilarious. Everything elicits laughs and joy, everything makes me feel good and clever. Perhaps this is a bit towards the delusional end of things, I don’t think I am ever supposed to feel this good about myself or anything. And perhaps to temper the experience a bit, the body load clings desperately and ravenously. Typically, it fades during the peak, but just like the other times I’ve taken 4-HO-MET, it lingers on and on.

T6:20-The party's been going on for a while now. Less people have showed up than other times, I feel disappointed, and I feel upset that people might not be having a good time. Indeed there is a lot of people just kinda sitting around silently. I feel bad that I am wasting these peoples’ time, that I’ve drawn them out to a place where they might not want to be. Typically my room Is packed with people. This time, when I go up there, it is empty, I just lie on the bed and wonder where everyone is. I feel lonely, I feel as though I failed. I guess this is where HO-MET shines, in that I am still grounded enough in reality to feel bad. If it were 4-AcO-MET, I would probably feel some delusional pull to put a positive spin on this situation. I go to my basement where my friend had set up a drug market during the last party. I find a tab of acid just lying on the counter, it must’ve fallen out and been lying there since then. Without hesitation, I eat it. My girlfriend isn’t coming and I feel sad about that too, but she seems to need a relaxing night to herself and I’m glad she isn’t forcing herself into an uncomfortable situation. She would probably advise against me recklessly stacking drugs onto myself. Not that this is her fault or I’m upset with her or anything, she wasn’t feeling to well that night and for the sake of her own wellbeing, a party would not have been a good place for her to be.

T7:15-My friend who I sold 4-AcO-DMT to at the beginning of the party wants to spice it up more. I offer him 2C-B. I mention that if he wants it to hit quickly he can snort it. I advise him against it though, as it is so extremely painful. He eventually decides to take the plunge however. Perhaps I should’ve tried harder to dissuade him. He rails it, and is immediately in immense pain. He’s suffering so much, he’s screaming and shouting and tearing up. He has to blow his nose, he is going on about how it feels like someone has dug a chainsaw into his face, among all variety of colorful ways of describing this suffering. I try to bring him relief however possible. Eventually, I decide that he shall not suffer alone, so I empty out a capsule for myself and suck it down. Perhaps I am better prepared for this as have done this several times before. I spend a minute or two in debilitating pain on the ground, tearing up. Some other friends in the room have just been sitting and observing this spectacle. What must they think of me, first for offering this to someone, and then subjecting myself to it? What must they think of this relatively benign drug upon seeing the suffering it wreaks? I am soon able to get up and walk around. I am having a blast, feeling a grand rising feeling in my core as the colors begin to interplay and the visuals begin to dance. The clearest ones are vivid afterimages in flashing neon turquoise and pink that appear every time I move my eyes. Soon these afterimages begin to take a life of their own, transforming into autonomous patterns that pulse and glimmer through my field of vision. It is not necessarily warping or distortion of what I can see, but rather new images appearing and overlaying everything. The drip comes on and suddenly I am stricken with horrendous nausea. It is truly sickening. I run to the bathroom to throw up. I feel better afterwards. Sounds are spinning and vibrating through the air and displaying themselves as swirling tessellated checkerboard patterns.

T8:00-Someone wants to look at my collection. I pull it out and show them everything I have, I explain them and show them the different families of drug. Eventually, someone comes to the bag of dissociatives. This is where things start going off the rails. My friend who indulged in the 2C-B who seems to have quite the appetite for hallucinogens picks up the bag that says O-PCE and asks about it. I don’t have TOO much left so I say that I am not selling it. He eventually convinces me to supply him with some. I decide I will pour myself out some too, because why not, it’s a party. My judgment was heavily impaired. I mean in the past I’ve just stacked drugs on one another, but this time I really learned. I weighed out 27 mg for myself. I seem to have forgotten how hard I had been rocked by 30 mg before. I normally like to go hard on dissociatives, but during parties where I have to maintain my house and host people, I definitely don’t like to be going THAT hard. Unfortunately, I guess I had it in my head, “~30 mg is a dose” and forgot how hard a dose that was. I didn’t even crush up the crystals, so it stung quite a bit. Eep.

T?????-This is another instance of timestamps simply not being applicable for a period of time. Dissociatives have a funny tendency to do that. I can recall a bunch of what happened, but not the order in which it happened. I will try to piece it together as best as possible.

In my room, one of my friends threw a bag of drugs to another person. It hit something and landed somewhere in the room, and everyone was trying to find it. After a bit of time of futile searching, seriously hampered by the visual distortion I was subject to, I realized how far I was drifting away. I felt like I was trying to dive down into the ocean while wearing a life jacket, it was an intense feeling of floating up, of abandoning all concept of being “grounded”. And so I eventually succumbed to this overwhelming buoyancy. I realized I couldn’t be in my crowded room in this state, it was overwhelming and overstimulating. If I was going to be sucked into dissociative oblivion, I would do it alone, on my own terms. I stepped outside, only to be stricken with the strangest feeling of not actually being ‘outside’. I felt like I had stepped into another room, that the gridded and patterned breathing sky was now a ceiling within my reach. Everything felt so surreal, it was like this long day of tripping had finally broken me into psychosis and that reality was crumbling away before me, a familiar tripping but nonetheless disorienting. I was so dizzy, I forgot how dizzy O-PCE specifically makes me. I can barely stand up. There is one person back there, they are a roommate of one of my best friends, they are alone and playing with a music producing app on their phone. We try to make conversation, but I soon realize I am not up for the task. My short term memory is failing, and the words just bounce off of me as empty phonetics, devoid of any semiotics or meaning.

                I have an ultraviolet light set up back there to attract insects. I see a curious specimen on there- it appears to be an aquatic insect, a water boatman to be more specific. I have no idea what this creature could possibly be doing here, as I live quite far from any body of water. This confuses the hell out of me, and adds to this whole sense of surreality/reality collapsing around me. I capture it and preserve it in alcohol. I realize how dangerous dissociatives can be, as I am just haphazardly spilling isopropyl all over. This could easily have resulted in a fire had I not caught myself and cleaned it all up. I’m glad my mind was together enough for that at least. I sit down in the hallway outside of my room. I am truly reeling away, I was able to complete this one task and now I was being obliterated by a great sinking dissociative storm. I doubt it would’ve been this bad ordinarily, but it was coalescing with the 2C-B that still coursed through my system, creating an unstable and unstoppable maelstrom. I was so scared that it was going to go further and further. Already I felt like I had been entirely derealized, that I was drifting through a fantasy existence, or controlling a character externally like in a videogame. I had to keep my wits sharp and be extremely careful not to incur drastic consequences through careless actions. My sense of cause and effect had been compromised, making this difficult and filing me with anxiety. I ran to my basement, to be alone. This is the peak of the freakiness.

                I am in my basement, completely alone. I can hear the voices of people above. They are faint and muttering and indistinguishable. I can also hear this high pitched rushing noise, like steam blasting through a tiny pipe, it feels like it grows in intensity as time goes on, it delivers upon this stark space an incredible sense of tension. A moaning static lingers in the background, reminding me of my horrific experiences in the dextroverse. The lights seem to be windows to the glowering dry eyes of an infinite sentient sky showering me in concentrated bleakness. The walls are twitching, everything is shuddering and writhing like the dying throes of desiccated maggots. It feels like I am not actually alone. That being around other people distracts me from another presence, a presence that hides in the walls and seeps into my mind, a presence that crawled into my capillaries the moment I snorted that line. It is alone with me, the walls become its bastions of grinning teeth bordered by pallid dry stretched lips. It wants to speak to me, it is always speaking to me, I am just alone enough to hear it now. It tickles my mind and plants horrific images into it, images of it taking possession, images of me losing control entirely, of my body becoming the vessel for its empty dissociated malice, a desire to deconstruct and destroy for its own esoteric cosmic purposes. It would lead me to go upstairs, to lash out, to destroy things and harm others. This was a rushing a malevolent storm of psychosis. I soon realize that unfortunately, I cannot be alone. I return upstairs and the eerie voice carried on the dry air quiets to an indistinct murmur.

                The next 3 hours are an utter jumble. I mostly paced my house going from room to room, staying in each space for a short amount of time before getting uncomfortable and deciding maybe a change of environment would help me. This was like treating a grevious wound with local applications of benzocaine, reapplying every time it wore off. I try to stay grounded in one place, but eventually that uncontrollable buoyancy catches up with me and I must depart. This strategy kept me from falling into a freakout. Indeed, throughout the night I began to have this idea that this would be the “big one”, this would be the time I would lose control and have a total psychotic break. When the sky feels like a cracked ceiling, when the ceiling feels like the sky, when you cannot feel your limbs and it feels like your physical presence is being smeared across the room, it’s pretty easy to imagine something going wrong. Conversation is cloudy, I am slurring my words and I am stricken with a powerful feeling of aphasia, stuttering and stumbling and unable to find the words I want to use. It is like my mind has been turned to goop, and this goop was leaking all over my mind and short circuiting everything. I feel like I am looping, in thoughts and actions, which is a dangerous sign. I feel like I am freaking everyone out, with my slurred and disjointed speech, my inability to maintain conversation, my erratic behavior, and my pacing. One friend tells me my eyes were wide open the entire time. Another tells me that I was apologizing profusely for my actions even though I was behaving normally and nor really acting too different than if I was just drunk or really stoned. I guess it was all in my head. My short term memory was falling away behind me like one of those collapsing bridges they have in videogames. I recall spending several sojourns of time sheltered in my room, drawing to ground myself. Drawing is exceedingly hard. I am trying to draw the room around me, but it’s to no avail, I keep losing focus and losing track of what I was drawing. My field of vision is swirling and shaking, breaking into little bits and drifting off, so I guess its natural that it would be hard to depict that. My room is a sanctuary isolated from the rest of the house, the rest of the world. While encapsulated in the bubble that it presented, I find it hard to imagine that there is anything beyond its door, that there is any wider world than what is before me. I try to remember the past few days, but I took a dissociative within that timespan too. The entire past few days feel like a dream, an absurd fantasy. The derealization I feel has leaked into my memory and retroactively invalidated my experiences. I wonder how this experience will stick in my memory. Every single moment feels like an isolated point in time, with no correlation between what came before or what comes after it. This destroys my sense of causality and compromises my ability to maintain a continuous conversation, maintain continuous actions, or properly understand the concept of consequence.

This dissociative hurricane rages on for 4 hours without relent. It sometimes briefly grants me respite, allowing me to be grounded and anchored, but for most of that time it is raging full force without any sign of slowing. I constantly feel like I am being sucked into the ground, that I have to take shelter from something, although I cannot comprehend or imagine what that something is. People are playing super smash brothers in my living room with all the lights off. I do not know why the lights are off and it is adds to the confusion as I continue to make my laps around the house like those folks I saw constantly pacing the halls in the psychiatric hospital. The paranoia and anxiety tears through me and spins me around leaving me perpetually dizzy and disoriented. I am regretting this so much, I am too far gone to enjoy this party or enjoy the company of others. I feel like I am being taught an important lesson about binging drugs, about how my judgment is affected when I am already on drugs. The fact that it hasn’t let up at all for so long is worrisome however. I begin to fear I may never come down, O-PCE is a relatively new and unexplored substance, what if it’s the one that triggers infinite dissociation? That would suck, I try not to think about that. I find myself at several points trying to explain things to people and still attempting to make conversation. It is somewhat grounding. I cannot for the life of me make conversation. My difficulty finding the correct words to use is a huge impediment. I feel like I am mostly just burdening them with my goopy mind and they are merely humoring me.

T13:00-I am finally coming back down, I am finally somewhat lucid. It’s coming to an end at last. I am still tripping super hard with visuals and strange feelings in my body, but at last the curse is lifting. I linger with my friends in the backyard. The last people left at the party are all people who are very into psychedelics, most of them tripping on all variety of substances, like 2C-B, MDMA, 4-AcO-DMT, 4-HO-MET, 2C-C, and O-PCE. What a cool crowd. We stay up joking about shit until sunrise. It is so blissful to be in their company, the feeling of coming down at last feels like stepping back into civilization after a brutal hike through a swamp. I am myself again, I exist in the world again. I laugh and joke about things that are more off-color than usual, hinting at some sort of suppression of empathy or emotion. Or perhaps the surfacing of narcissistic or sociopathic tendencies, These may stem from diagnosed borderline personality disorder.

T18:00-I am finally back to a relative baseline. I go to bed. It is 10 AM.