LSD + 3-MeO-PCP

Age: 21

Weight: 120 lbs

Dosage: 1 tab LSD sublingual, 14 mg 3-MeO-PCP Intranasal

Setting: My apartment

(Notes were not taken during this experience, times are all very approximate)

T0:00- Dose tab of LSD immediately upon returning home from work. This is a batch I had a good bit of that I wanted to test for potency. I wash dishes and do chores around the house as I come up.

T1:30- I have been coming up for quite some time now, the comeup has been slow and slogging, as if the drug has been fighting its way through knee high muck to find a place in my mind. It feels as though a little electric storm has infiltrated my brain, that it is pulsing little sparks and flashes of color throughout my consciousness. It’s sparkling and tingling, and that raw feeling of dry stimulation deep in the marrow of my bones, shaking them dry, sending ripples of stark warmth through my muscles. Chills run up and down my spine and I chew some gum to combat the onslaught of bruxism. I roll a joint that will calm my body, when I hear a knock at the door.

T2:00- A friend has come over. My roommates come out to hang out and we are all sitting around as I continue to go up and up. Talking and laughing feels particularly jovial and it feels like I can feel every muscle fiber in my body as they contract. I light up the joint as we’re all hanging out. The weed smooths the rough and jagged edges and points of the trip, eroding them into a pleasant round cobble and blasting the experience with pulses of color and shimmering jittering dancing light. My roommates want to try some drug tonight, so we devise assigning each side of a die to a drug in my collection and rolling it. We settle on deschloroketamine. I decide not to partake just so I can ride this trip out a little longer and make a judgment on this batch, but we go upstairs and I provide it for them.

 

T2:40- Now that that’s all over with, we go back downstairs. They are immediately struck with the onset, and seem to be having a great time playing videogames and hanging out. I smoke more weed with my other roommate who did not partake, and am content to observe them as they enter an experience that I am quite familiar with. More cannabis feels like adding more heat to the fire, it feels like the trip is burgeoning and glowing and smoldering and I am ecstatic to be privy to this.

T3:20- My friends are all crashing over the peak of their experience and I feel like tasting some dissociation myself. I go upstairs and find that I do not have as much deschloroketamine as I thought. I decide to instead feast myself on 3-MeO-PCP. Weighing out the tiny precise amount is difficult with my shaky hands but I decide on a higher dose than usual and suck it down. I return downstairs.

T3:40-The burn has subsided and at this point I have entirely forgotten that I have taken anything on top of the acid. It first presents as a slight note of physical numbness, of the world appearing blurry, not visually, but as if the symbolic meanings of every object around me have begun to become indistinct.

T4:00-It feels like a great volcano is erupting within me, there is a massive swelling of fire and energy radiating from my core and pounding into my skull, not even pounding and pulsing, but rather a steady constant stream of warmth. I am swarmed with abundant energy, and find myself unable to stand still. Rather I am pacing back and forth around the room, talking up a storm as if I need to expend all of this vitality. I cannot for the life of me sit still, remaining still is entirely inconceivable and even when I try I am still shaking my limbs, fidgeting nervously, eagerly and impatiently awaiting the next opportunity to flex and utilize my desperately burning muscles and mind. And it just keeps getting stronger. It grows exponentially and I soon find myself a bit concerned at how completely adrift I am. Like I was having a fun time swimming in the deep water at the beach but now I find myself being swept out to deeper water by a merciless riptide. I flee up to my room for a bit to try and ride this out. As I enter, I am struck with this odd feeling. Everything seems “hyperreal”, like I am visibly seeing everything with more clarity than I normally do, like I have shattered the blurred veneer of reality and that my nerves and sensory organs are truly in touch with their stimuli, taking the bits of information in with greater capacity than they were before. I feel more deeply in control of my body, able to entirely control the momentum that my limbs exhibit, able to entirely control every little contraction of my muscles down to each individual sarcomere. I feel like superhuman.

I lie in my room and listen to music for a bit, and while being alone is nice and provides me an idea of how strong this trip is, I soon get bored and restless and flee back downstairs. I am jumping around on the furniture now, standing atop the banister of our staircase and touching our ceiling, looming above the rest of the room. I just want to jump and climb, I wish I was in a vast boulder field or out in the woods where I could appropriately expend this energy, but all I can do now is excitedly run around the house. My two friends who ingested the deschloroketamine are couchlocked and helplessly watch me gallivant around the space. I go outside and it feels incredible, I feel like I could flap my wings and fly above the neighborhood like I have in so many dreams, I stick my arms out and loom above the space like a great crucifix, or a spectacular bird spreading its wings over a precipice, I feel majestic and powerful, beautiful and mighty, and manic beyond measure.

T4:20- I return inside to find my friends still splayed out on the couch. The desket has hit them like a freight train. I am still pacing and still manic, with the visual aspect of the acid experience significantly kicked up. Visuals trace their way down the walls and flash and breathe in magenta and teal, yet everything still appears as hyper-real to me. How neat! My reality has been redefined I suppose, to where this strange pulsing rippling world has become the status quo. Soon however, that feeling fades, and is replaced by quite the opposite- as if the world has become blurred, and the overlay on my reality has made everything flat and indistinct. It feels like the world has become lo-fi, that I am viewing it through a cloud of static on a CRT that cannot attain a proper signal. My friends suggest playing around with a guitar for a bit, so I follow them into a room and bring along paper and pen so I can draw pictures.

                My one friend plays guitar, the other is seemingly in no state to do anything but lie back as he is subject to the dissociative maelstrom. I am trying to draw, but I am not patient enough to do anything meticulous. I am furiously scribbling, making pictures that are composed of lines being powerfully thrown against the page, nearly tearing the paper with the pen. My friend plays a few songs, marveling at how he is still able to play guitar and remember the lyrics. I ask him to play a rendition of one song he wrote and he belts it out completely from memory, it’s spectacular to witness and I ask him if I can record it. My recording capabilities consist of my laptop speaker… But we set it up nonetheless, and I am struck with this childish sense of make-believe, where I am pretending that this is some actual recording studio and I am doing actual music stuff, even though once again, it’s my laptop on a chair with the music being recorded in audacity. I had this projection overlaid on the whole activity granting it greater significance than was warranted, but it felt so nice, it felt like such a great use of time. I was entirely euphoric and ecstatic.

T5:00-My friends are beginning to come down and the comedown is very rough on them, tiring out their bodies and subjecting them to nausea and vomiting. I ride out my trip for the next couple of hours playing videogames, smoking weed, and generally just enjoying myself quite a lot.

T6:00-The dissociative feeling from the 3-MeO-PCP has entirely faded now, or rather I do not feel 2 distinct drugs, it feels like the experience, with the help of weed, has blended together into one singular neutral feeling, to the point where I hardly feel altered anymore. I know I’m altered, but this feels like my new baseline, and it feels fantastic. We watch a movie together and I feel like it is being etched into my memory deeper than such an experience normally is. We order a pizza and I am delighted to find I still have quite an appetite.

T9:00-Everyone has gone to bed now and I go upstairs and shower. In the shower I realize how altered I still am, and it’s absolutely fantastic. I feel so incredibly in tune with my body, fully aware of every little movement I make, every shift in my bones and every pull of my tendons. The warm water flowing over my body invigorates me, makes me appreciate the miracle of my working body, of all the muscles and the instant nerve impulses that move them. I come out of the shower radiating warmth and staring at awe at my bare flesh. I relax in my room and smoke more weed while reading about stuff on the computer for a few hours.

T11:00-The trip is mostly over now. I go to sleep. 

4-HO-MiPT + O-PCE

(This one has been published by Erowid!!!!)

Age: 21

Weight: 120 lbs

Dosage: 30 mg 4-HO-MiPT oral in gel cap, 30 mg O-PCE Intranasal

Setting: My apartment

T0:00-I dose the cap of 4-HO-MiPT first and decide that because it’s a nice day, I’m going to visit a place where immense Datura inoxia grows and harvest some seeds and leaves for the novelty of having them. My friend drives me out there and drops me off.

T0:30-I already feel like I’m coming up. While collecting seeds an elderly man comes up next to me and begins to do the same. I wonder if he knows the same things about this plant that I do. We make conversation, all while I am still coming up. I feel a bit nauseous and uncomfortable, and colors look brighter as we talk. Conversation is slightly awkward and I find myself getting fixated on certain words or phrases he says, though I feel like I did not come across as suspect. As I start walking home, I am feeling very smiley, the sky is rippling and pulsing with rainbows and colors above me and the air is swirling in great rainbow sweeps around me. I am feeling pretty nauseous and uncomfortable, moreso than I usually do from this drug. The walk home is at once both pleasant and anxious, as I want to get home and flop on my bed and provide myself brief alleviation from the nausea and muscular discomfort and sweating.

T1:10-I arrive home. I am still feeling a bit sick and I’m kind of apprehensive about snorting the O-PCE that I laid out for myself before I left. I dawdle around for a bit trying to postpone the action before finally biting the bullet and doing it.

T1:20-I snort the line, it feels like nothing. I am queasy as hell and trying to hold myself together as the 4-HO-MiPT ravages me like a thunderstorm. My innards are being tossed about in the shearing wind and storm surges, my muscles are clenching and it feels like my head is sinking in on itself. I have done higher doses than this with less body load. I wonder what’s up with this.  I smoke a little bit of cannabis to try and ease the nausea.

T1:25-Per usual, the O-PCE wastes no time making itself known. I already feel very gummy, like I am soft and gelatinous, like my solid bones and flesh have suddenly decided to become more amorphous and resilient. The drip is salty and not as unpleasant as many other drugs can be. When I lie down it feels like something is being pulled out of me or pulled out from under me, but I cannot really focus on it or bring it entirely to my attention. It is as if I am helpless to stop this reeling of my existence away. It’s like that trick when someone pulls the table cloth off of a fully set table, and if they do it right, everything remains on the table. Some part of me remains here, but something in my foundation is being stealthily, swiftly, and efficiently removed.

T1:30-The O-PCE pummels me like great nimbus clouds being blown by a gale. I am incredibly dizzy and floppy and dissociated, walking is extremely difficult. It feels like everything around me has become soft wet plants, soggy from torrential rain or soaking in puddles, it feels like the vulnerable softness of fresh leaves, leaves that will dent and scratch and tear. It feels like the soft waxiness of young datura leaves. Those plants I harvested earlier are on my mind, and I am getting visions of their great green leaves and trumpeting flowers. It is at once fresh and stagnant. The bodyload is still incredible, I figured a dissociative would pull me away from the physical discomfort, but to no avail, my entire body has disappeared save for my unfortunate digestive tract, which feels like its festering and rotting, like it is composed of decaying leaves that are crawling with worms and centipedes. And yet, despite the fount of life that typically inhabits decaying material, it still feels so sterile, so chemical, so empty and dead. There are barely any visuals. With my eyes open, the world honestly looks normal, save for some warping and drifting and faint color shifts. The headspace however, is an alien realm of tangled vegetation sinking into an infinite muddy pit, I am altered beyond altered, and though can see and perceive this world clearly, it makes absolutely zero sense to me.

T1:45-My innards are twisting and tangling, they are fighting with eachother and their sinews have become furiously intertwined, flexing and bulging to the point where it seems they might rupture. This is entirely and ravenously unpleasant. Comfort has become a myth. It feels like I am coming to pieces from within, that I am dissolving into the medium around me, my shattered and traumatized guts disintegrating into flocculant. My mind feels like a big block of putty or cheese, my physical brain literally feels like some soft object that I could dent or mold or shape or squeeze. It feels as though the psychedelic fury of the 4-HO-MiPT is fighting with the overwhelming curtain of dissociative gumminess. Imagine a tornado tearing through an ocean of gelatin. A blender full of play doh. A man chest deep in quicksand wildly swinging two swords around. It is furious violence being suppressed by a more subtle oppressive violence, they meet and smother one another, two beasts locked in an eternal struggle, with me bearing the collateral damage. It feels like my thoughts are coagulating like drops of oil on the surface of a gently flowing stream might. They stick together and blend into one another and render each other entirely meaningless. I am disabled, my thoughts do not function, I cannot process anything, I feel like I am short circuiting. The little bits of thought swirl together to form great big foreboding stratus clouds that hang over me and cast me in gloomy shadow.

My mind has been deeply unsettled, and I am not aware of how much space my body takes up. My sense of proprioception has been entirely and mercilessly eliminated, and I find myself unable to do basic tasks of any capacity. I am violently shaking and very very cold, I feel like I am dying, that I have been poisoned and my muscles are wearing themselves out in ritual suicide. It feels like there is a cold wind blowing on me, sapping my heat, and I am unaware of most stimuli around me. I don’t even notice I have music on. I feel like I have been tangled in vines, my body restricted and eliminated in a tangled net of dense vegetation. This entire trip is like dying vines wrapping around great gelatinous storm clouds on a gloomy day, the vines strangling whatever light remains out of the clouds and casting furious gales and twisting, swirling, churning winds onto the hapless ground below.

T2:00- I have become a dying spider, my black spindly twitchy appendages mangling out of the form and cavity of my body, the limbs rasping and writhing on my bed, clutching the sheets for some degree of mercy from this meteor shower of discomfort. This is pure raw discomfort energy, I realize that I should savor this, understand it, let it be scarred into my mind so that when I am sober I can be grateful that I am not feeling it. My body is still shaking like the death throes of a dying insect. My guts are still churning and twisting and polluting my thoughts. And it is only building, only getting stronger.

One of my parents contacts me and I begin to panic. This is probably the worst state possible for me to try and interact with people who are extremely against my drug use. Even texting would be a dead giveaway to my heavily impaired state. I am freaking out, if they decide to call because I did not respond urgently enough, I am screwed, just 100% screwed. There is no way I could talk to them and sound sane or normal. I think of an alibi and when I come upon a satisfactory one, I am washed with waves of relief. But that soon gives way to yet more panic as the experience grows stronger still. I am no longer seeing, the world around me is just blank dead input, pure sensory information without any mental processing or perception or interpretation. I am seeing with the eyes of a corpse.

I realize just how much time I am going to have to spend with this substance, every second is excruciating, every minute feels so long, and I am just going to have to sit here and wait this out. I am just too impaired to engage in any activity other than lying on my bed and writing about. My heart sinks and my body goes cold as I am stabbed with anxiety. I have to just hope that my parents will not try to contact me again for the next 3 or 4 hours. I am sitting in silence, and it sounds like there is rushing steam or hot water somewhere around me. It’s a violent virulent hiss that is like sandpaper on my mind and on my ears, it’s the sound of my thoughts turning to vapor and fleeing as fast as they can from this hideous infected mind. I still feel very sick, and attempt to vomit several times, but to no avail. I am thinking so much about datura and at one point have convinced myself that I accidentally ate some seeds, that I am going to be nonfunctional for several days now, that I am entirely and mercilessly poisoned and that there will be no respite from this. That I am now trapped in a raw unfettered world of bone dry discomfort and stark withering anxiety, and that this is my new normal, the withered paradigm of existence that I have trapped myself in. I watch the clock and it’s distressing how little time has passed.

T3:30-I made it to 5:00 somehow. Time feels like it’s passing so slowly, and the trip hasn’t let up at all. Sometimes when tripping I can focus my mind to perform tasks that are extremely necessary, but that is not the case here, I cannot do anything no matter how hard I try, I am completely disabled. The dissociative hammers at my mind relentlessly, it is a hurricane with no eye, it is a stampede that never ends, it is crushing me to a pulp and ferociously eroding me.

I feel a massive sense of doom, like this trip is final, it’s going to be the one that screws up the trajectory of my life, ruins me in the eyes of my parents, lands me in prison or a psych ward or rehab, who knows. It feels like an infinite chasm of negative possibilities has yawned open beneath my feet. I am pacing, just awaiting my fate in this grim empty room where it feels like even the air has died. I am happy that I have made it a whole hour, that there isn’t too much left. I feel like I need to be distracted, but still lack the capability to perform any task that might distract me. Sometimes I can focus my mind and it seems as though the energy of my thoughts can be harnessed into some tangible form in front of me, but this is just hallucination and it soon disintegrates and falls away to the mad erosion of the storm around me. This trip is green and grey and so miserable. I regret every moment of this, I was having fun just on 4-HO-MiPT, why did I have to throw anything else into the mix? Why did I desire to have novel experiences that could turn out so miserable? Why not just live in comfort and happiness at all times? Drugs are fucking stupid. I am just overwhelmed with shame and regret, I feel like I have wasted a perfectly good day.

The sensory aspects of this trip were oddly enough not very notable at all. The mental distress was extreme, but the visuals appeared simply as everything in higher contrast, with no real hallucinatory effects, or even patterns or colors. Just plain and grey and sterile.

T5:30-I played Yume Nikki for the past few hours, it’s a surreal eerie game that involves a lot of wandering. This actually let me pass the time and was exceedingly pleasant as a way to forget my anxieties. Before I knew it, I felt like I had climbed out of the hole. I had fought my way out and I had thrown myself over the ledge, out of breath, exhausted, worn to the vestiges of my bones. In am empty lot behind my house people are projecting a movie on the wall of a house and the audio is on super loud speakers that sound like they are directly in my room. This would’ve freaked me the fuck out earlier, but now that I have come down a bit I feel a bit of relief, and almost laugh at the absurdity of this situation and how grateful I am for the fact that I can actually perceive and understand that. Whew.

T6:00-I’m going to a show/party to see one of my dearest friends play. I feel fucking awful though. I feel like I am hollow, that my body cavity has been scraped out with an ice cream scoop and I am just an empty vessel that the wind whistles through. I still feel so very nauseous and it feels like I am going to throw up if I move too fast. My limbs are still numb and out of place, feeling like they do when I first wake up. My movements are slow and sluggish, it’s the feeling of recovering from a savage stomach virus. Nonetheless I manage to throw on some clothes and head over.

T6:30-Once I am outside I realize how fucked up I still am. I can hardly walk straight, I must look drunk. Everything around me seems so distant and all I can think about is how sick and broken my body still feels. I still feel like there is some critical error in my ability to process my surroundings, that there is still some bug in the system that has not been worked out.

T7:00-I arrive and am immediately overwhelmed. There are people standing around everywhere, it’s pretty crowded. I know many of these people and trying to greet and interact with them quickly becomes disorienting. I feel like I need to sit down or I’ll faint, I just feel so weak and my body is in shambles.

T8:00-I am down enough to smoke weed without stirring the dust too much and interact with people in a normal manner. In fact I am having a good bit of fun interacting with people now, I seem to have some of my mental capacity restored.

T12:00-I arrive home. I am mostly down now, but there is still that raw eroding dissociative goopiness drying my mind out, and a bit of that warm psychedelic afterglow. This persists until I sleep, but is gone in the morning.

Conclusion: O-PCE will never enter my bloodstream again. In the days that followed I felt an odd sort of tightness/tenderness/soreness in my thyroid that made it uncomfortable to swallow, but it passed.