Age: 25
Weight: 130 lbs
Dosage:
5 mg oral in solution
Setting:
The house where I grew up, various places around the neighborhood.
Preface:
This is another rare DOx compound that I have been blessed to encounter.
Originally reported in PiHKAL by Alexander Shulgin, unlike its compatriots such
as DOM or DOC, it never really took off and has remained a rarity throughout
history. DOx compounds are the amphetamine versions of the 2C-x family, meaning
a methyl group is placed on the alpha-carbon of the ethylamine chain, giving
the name, (a)lpha-(m)ethyl-(phe)ne(t)hyl(amine). With 2C-x compounds, all of
the most basic variations, meaning basic carbon chains and halogens on the
variable 4-position, hit the market at some point and saw widespread use. With
the DOx variants however, certain variations never saw widespread sale or use. For
example, 2C-E was once a widely available and well regarded psychedelic, but
its DOx analogue, DOET, has almost never been encountered beyond Shulgin’s
personal sphere. DOPr is among those too- it is the amphetamine version of
2C-P, which, while still obscure, saw widespread availability once upon a time.
DOPr meanwhile, never caught on, save for this batch that I have encountered.
Why is this? For one, 2C-P itself is a hyperbolic drug, with an extremely long
duration, high potency, vicious bodyload, and extremely intense effects. In
general, DOx compounds are considered more extreme versions of their respective
2C-x analogues, seeing a massive increase in potency and duration relative to
their sister compounds. So it should follow that DOPr is even more extreme in
its effects than 2C-P, somehow having an even longer duration and more
intensive effects. This perhaps has contributed to some hesitancy in producing
and consuming it. Still, I was intrigued greatly by the existence of this
compound and have always wanted to try it, both to round out my palate of DOx
experiences and because of the inherent novelty. I am grateful that I got the
opportunity!
So
is DOPr a more extreme version of 2C-P? In my personal opinion, at the dose
which I consumed it, not particularly. It has a similarly long duration, though
the overall effects are less intensive (relative to what I would consider a
mid-range dose of 2C-P, about 8 mg). It is certainly more potent, but that’s
about it. I found it to be a very neutral and gentle trip, with an intensive
edge at points, though the acuteness of the experience was mostly tempered and
diluted by being drawn out over such a long time. A detailed report follows.
T0:00- Dosed in a solution. I brace for the
extreme bitter flavor carried by DOx compounds but it wasn’t there, probably on
account of being pretty dilute. I fill the empty test tube with water and drink
down the residue. A tingle runs up my spine. Prior to dosing (at 10:00 PM) I
had already been awake since 7:00 AM, driving and working on farms all day. It
has been an exhausting day but rest is not coming any time soon.
T0:30- I feel the first notes, just a bit of stimulation
deep in my muscles and bones, a slight electric buzz travelling up my spine to
my brain.
T1:30- It is building gradually, slowly, subtly,
but surely. It is hard for me to discern the intensity, it grows at such an
elusive pace. Nausea and typical psychedelic discomfort become prominent now.
There are no visual effects to note yet.
T2:00- Muscle tension and a headache setting
in. Begin to notice visuals as a subtle relief on surfaces, indistinct and
abstract but certain and definite. It feels like a storm is steadily bearing
down on me, kissing me with a cold gentle downdraft. I have been sitting in the
living room watching Chivalry Medieval Warfare. I try to watch the show
Midnight Gospel- I love the animation and worlds weaved in it, I love the
concept, the dialogue is irritating. I am not a big fan of interview style
podcasts and this just reminds me of some college party where I watch spun
hippies on research chemicals blow each other’s minds. As the irritation and
discomfort grow I decide to go upstairs to splay out on my bed in the dark.
T2:15- Though it is late at night I find
people to talk to online. I want to be around people right now, I have a
glowing social push that is often absent in psychedelics. I feel more
articulate and eloquent, my brain seems to me moving more fluidly and
effectively, analyzing each bit of text it encounters, efficiently processing
them and transforming them into my own well-crafted response. Or so it seems,
perhaps this is just a delusion. I want to write and talk and write and talk,
but I have little interesting to write or talk about beyond the rare research
chemical I have ingested. The stimulation feels warm and baked in, like the
great heat of an oven has cooked the energy out of my bones and their radiant
steam soaks into my muscles. Pangs of nausea become more noticeable.
T2:46- Tt bears down more and more, still a
steady gradual progression, a constant growing pressure crackling with writhing
tendrils of gentle electricity. There is a bitterness in my breath, I feel so
nauseous I almost throw up. I feel very burpy.
My body feels fainter, my skin a bit numb to
the touch as a stimulating heat glows within me. My movements feel labored yet
energetic, it is a sluggishness like I have just woken from a restless sleep,
but shocked with an electric stimulation that imbues it with a seemingly
impossible drive and energy.
The visuals are subtle and elusive,
concentric overlapping lamellar forms in neon relief whispering their way into
my eyes from the blank spots on my laptop screen. I have been aimlessly reading
stuff that looks interesting that is shared to social media, a favorite pastime
of mine, but it grows dull and the words and stories begin to grow more
confusing and incomprehensible. I feel like I cannot bother to expend the
energy to process this information, there is no point, it will likely bring me
no pleasure or purpose, it just doesn’t feel worth it. I simply don’t care
enough to engage in anything. I feel like a kid stuck in school on a beautiful
day.
I smoke a bit of cannabis to take the edge
off.
T3:00- Everything slowly but surely increases
in intensity, feeling more and more nauseous, shaking a lot, visuals build in
intensity, though they are still confined to my periphery. Deepening textures
branching and wriggling and folding back upon themselves, an organic recursion
oddly devoid of any liveliness.
There is no rush or sense of plunging, and no
discernible sense of achieving a peak, I am just slowly cresting a shallow
hill, yet one that is impossibly vast, built of a constant tense entwining
motion beneath its surface. I smoke a bit more and walk around the house and go
to sit on the porch. Walking feels wobbly and off-balance, especially with all
of my muscles so tight and wound up. I am radiating energy and it feels as
though it crystallizes in the air around me.
T3:33- Everything is fully forming and
realizing myself- despite the slow ascent I feel like I have finally crested
something, that I have peaked over a shallow horizon to view the sudden glory
of the sun (figuratively of course, it is currently 1:30 in the morning).
Visuals manifest full force, a labyrinthine
tangle of lines pulsing and writhing and rippling their way across my field of
vision, densely occupying every empty space, their borders flashing and pulsing
with vibrant green and pink. It is a pattern reminiscent of a brain coral, but
denser, sharper. There are buzzes and rushes of energy that explode into
tracers in my head, projecting into my vision, like fizzling and crackling
fireworks, flashes of color that sputter and cascade and sparkle in the dark.
Each runs up my spine like an electric chill and releases before eyes.
The world is still around me, a steady chilly
rain drums on the windows in the dark night. I wrap my face with a blindfold
and lie back to see what world that would immerse me in- I am greeted by a
dazzling array of stepped fractal fields, colors flashing through them in
methodical patterns. Infinite recursions and self replications, all with an
almost pixelated quality, as though this incredibly complex and detailed
information can only be transmitted via tiny squares, pulsing with gold and
bright green. They zoom and swirl and remain in perpetual motion, not as though
I am flying through them but like they are flying into me. Little of this trip
seems forceful, it does not feel like the drug is taking me anywhere, I am
simply experiencing it as it passes like watching a thunderstorm from a porch.
I open my eyes and tendrils of colored light
dash across my vision. Fractalized patterns continue in the dark and blank
places, subtle but present, and at no point overwhelming or intrusive. They too
manifest and exist in stepped patterns, forming bit by bit, turning corners and
angles bit by bit, the same pixelated quality. The great, tight, writhing
labyrinths act as infill between these blossoming fractal gardens.
I have still lost all interest in projecting
my thoughts onto the information contained in my screen and onto the outside
world, I turn into myself, lying in the dark and just thinking and ruminating.
My internal voice is loud, clear and enunciated.
I begin thinking about my job- without
getting into too much detail, I work with agriculture, identifying pests in
crop fields. I am ultimately a very minor component of the vast swath of
operations that encompass farm work, but I am a component nonetheless- poking
into each farm in my civilian vehicle, occasionally raising scrutiny from farm
workers who weren’t expecting me, briefly doing my bit and then moving on to
the next, like a pollinating insect dancing from flower to flower. There is
such a sense of fulfillment and satisfaction from being a part of this grand
ecosystem of various people filling various niches all towards the common goal
of producing food that all of us can enjoy. From electricians, pump
technicians, construction workers, plumbers, pesticide sprayers, administrative
staff, mechanics, and of course the armies of migrant workers who shoulder the
immense burden of harvesting and packing, I am just one more little being
interacting and playing my role. It fills me with warmth and happiness to think
about this, it feels nice to have a job where I am directly tangibly
contributing to something that serves human life.
I decide to so some cursory searching online
to learn more about some of the growers I visit, learn about how they operate
their farms, the family history and lineage in each location, the myriad
processes involved in the incredibly complex world of high-yield modern
industrial farming. It is fascinating, enlightening, and reinforces the joy of
playing a role, no matter how small, in this grand machination. There is a
certain warm euphoria in this experience overall.
T4:20- Despite being nauseous I am very
hungry, I heat up some leftover pasta and eat it with no problem. There is no
noticeable change to my perception of the food, though I tend to rarely eat
when I am on psychedelics.
T4:40- Things seem to have leveled out at a
long steady plateau. There is no more burgeoning intensity. There is a pleasant
buzz through my body, with warm shocks traveling up my spine. This is still
coupled with the expected body load of tightly wound muscle tension and nausea,
though both are within manageable limits and don’t interfere with the
experience too much. The sensory effects are present but not particularly
intrusive.
T5:30- I have just been dancing around on the
internet reading various holes about various topics as they cross my path. I am
reading largely about a history of unrest in America, about urban uprisings in
the 20th century, about the Civil Rights movement, and later I read
a lot about the LA riots specifically. With many psychedelics I find myself
engaged in ravenous quests for knowledge, falling into reading holes with eyes
that could pierce concrete and a razor-sharp acumen and drive, devouring all
knowledge put before me like a starved dog, no matter how trivial. This is not
the case with DOPr, where the interest feels purely self-driven, rather than
being fueled by some seething chemical dynamo. I can pull myself away and
engage in some other task if I so desire.
I duck away from my dark room lit only by my
screens to go cuddle with my cat in another room, this one completely dark.
Kanye West’s “My Beautiful Dark Twisted Fantasy” blares into the darkness from
my bedroom, rippling soothing vocal samples down the walls. My cat is sleeping
on the bed in another room- an enormous and very vocal grey tabby. I snuggle up
with him, I watch him drowsily acknowledge me before drifting back off to
sleep. I am filled with so much love and affection for this sweet soft creature
and his gentle breaths. He is enjoying his night to the fullest, on a big soft
bed all to himself, dreaming of cat memories in the pre-dawn darkness.
Here in the dark with my sweet cat, serenaded
by distant music as a faint glow from another room, the effects really come out
to their fullest. It is an environment ripe for the senses to take hold and
deliver what they will from the murky dark.
These effects come crashing down like an
earthquake, the world around me vibrating more and more rapidly until it
doubles, blurs on itself, collapses and reforms, its steadily climbing pulse
tears through me. The textures of objects in the dark form into deep prismatic
reliefs with stepped faces, each face traced with candystripe labyrinthine
patterns like fingerprints, themselves growing and receding into stepped
relief. Predominantly olive green and cyan pulse through these textures,
adorned with bright spots of crimson, yellow ochre, and fiery magenta. I look
down the hallway, illuminated by the blue-glow of my laptop screen in the other
room. Great glassy green polygons form on the walls, a latticework of yellow
and rusty red lines dividing them neatly into sections. They ripple and pulse
and travel down the walls, giving the impression that the hallway is breathing,
pulsing, extending and receding in peristaltic motion. Everything comes in
ripples and waves of vibration, their frequency rising and falling at a steady
rate, a perfectly calculated sine wave of sensory intensity. I am still pretty
nauseous.
T6:00- The experience takes so many forms at
once- some even seeming contradictory. It is remarkably gentle despite also
being quite intense, the effects becoming heavy in environments where they are
allowed to creep in, but even then I have to coax them to blossom, kindly
invite them into my space. I don’t feel much drive or push to do or know
anything, I am content merely existing here and now with this rare chemical
pulsing through my veins. There is also almost an anhedonia in how no activity
or stimulus feels particularly appealing, I just simply don’t care. I am not
upset about it, it’s neutral and matter of fact. All of my perceptions and
feelings have an ephemeral quality, where I am assured they will pass, and then
a new feeling will drift in, and it too will pass into the nighttime wind. Rain
hammers on the window. It is a great state in which to simply think.
T6:40- The rain has paused for a bit, it is
right before sunrise. I decide to smoke a bit more cannabis and set out for a
walk. I am in the neighborhood where I grew up, an idyllic suburb with
plentiful greenery. Being an idyllic suburb, I am extremely wary of being out
that late. Plenty of my friends my age had stories of being stopped by local
police with nothing to do, just for being out late at night, as though there
was an unofficial curfew for anyone who looked too young or suspicious. I tend
to come across as suspicious so I was particularly wary. Talking to police is
not an activity anyone wants to do while tripping on psychedelics. I also tend
towards anxiety and paranoia. I was furtive while I walked, I tried to be
acutely aware of my surroundings, I was consumed by nervous energy. It was
beautiful outside however, great gusts blew through the treetops, sending
blossoms of rainwater off the lush late-spring foliage which would glisten in the
glassy lights of houses and gardens around me. I rehearsed lines in my head for
what I would say if was stopped- the hypotheticals became so vivid, I became
enraptured in a fevered paranoid imagination- I would say I was going for a
walk because I couldn’t sleep- I Couldn’t sleep because I had recently stopped
prescribed anxiety medications, to explain why I may come across as jumpy and
nervous. I tried to think of everything, it was almost fun at a point.
I stopped on a bridge by the creek where my brother and I would play when we
were kids, where we would turn over rocks for crayfish and insect nymphs, where
we would catch minnows in our little nets and chase frogs and snakes. It was
where I learned to love animals and ultimately biology as a whole, it would set
the trajectory for my whole life. Over a decade later it would be where I had
my first intense psychedelic experience, on psilocybin mushrooms while I was
still in high school. This too would set the trajectory for my life, in a similar
manner to the time I spent here as a child.
The riffles of the creek babbled below me,
catching the light of the moon and the lights keeping watch over distant
houses, all of their occupants peacefully asleep. The ripples and reflections
themselves rippled, catching a iridescence and breathing 3-dimensional
patterns. The sky glowed a dull purple with light pollution distributed
throughout mist and stratus clouds, the trees cast grand silhouettes against
it. These silhouettes would repeat, fractalize, mirror themselves at the edges
turning to intricately branched snowflake-like forms with perpetually
shimmering and undulating forms at their edges. It hearkened me back to
watching these same trees during my first experience with mushrooms, intensely
visual and incredibly overwhelming, where the trees behaved similarly, though
this time it was more frenetic, more bound to a deep high-frequency vibration
in the core of their being, and this time the world of psychedelics had been
well traveled.
My
senses are on high alert, perpetually expecting some inevitable glare of
headlights, the hum of a car engine, someone to break the peace. My
anticipation generates sensations- the lights in my periphery appear to flash
and grow in intensity as if in motion, though they stop when I fix my
attention. There is a perpetual rumble in the distance, seemingly growing in
volume like an approaching object, though this appears to just be built from
the ambient sounds of the wind and the water. Even these dim and still
sensations seem to amplify in the electric hum of this drug.
I walk around town, the sun begins to light
the sky a pale somnolescent blue, a color whose vibrancy surrenders to the
lingering clouds and cold wind. People are beginning to come out of hiding to
go for early morning jogs or to walk their dogs. I acutely avoid them. I have
never been in the heart of the town at a time like this, when it is completely
quiet and still. I take in this unique scene in such a familiar place,
reminisce of all the time spent loitering here in my childhood and teenage years,
then set out for home with the same hurried and nervous gait I had maintained
this whole time.
T8:00- After relaxing back at home for a bit
and eating a light snack I shower off. The drug is still here, still intense,
still present, it just lingers and looms. In the cacophony of the falling water
and the confined dimness of the shower it continues to flex its muscles in a
gentle buzz, steadily and perpetually. I don't really know what to do with it,
it’s like a guest overstaying their welcome, the one who is still at the party
at sunrise when you’re just trying to sleep. I am physically quite tired but
mentally my mind is running and buzzing- the only issue is it has no particular
destination to run to, nowhere to go and nowhere to be. I'm just going to
settle in and get comfortable to the best of my ability and just go about my
life. I am pretty hungry.
T9:03- I eat a full meal now, here at 7 am. I
feel overly stimulated, I am tense, I am tired from being awake for about 25
hours straight now but I am still quite mentally alert. It’s an exhausting
contradiction. I would love to just call it quits here and take a nice long
nap, but I am invested in riding this experience out to the bitter end. Lying
very still on my comfortable bed brings some respite, in the darkness of the
early dawn.
T10:00- I yet again fall into a hole of
listening to and reading about niche topics on the internet. various patriotic
war anthems and such. Not really sure why, but it seems particularly
interesting. It’s fun to think about where they came from, what inspired them,
the emotions and pride stirred into each one. The line “As he died to make men
holy let us die to make men free!” from the Battle Hymn of the Republic
rattles around in my head.
T10:17- I am bored and decide to watch a
movie that had been on my list for a while, an OVA called Angel’s Egg. Before
the movie however I find myself remarkably sexually aroused, a feeling that
almost never manifests when I’m on psychedelics. Frankly, sex becomes an odd thing
for me to overanalyze, usually meandering to thoughts of inadequacy and
discomfort, so I tend to just reject it entirely. This time though it sneaks
in, it is present and neutral, something for me to just regard as a
psychosomatic system. With time, the feeling passes, I lie down to watch the
movie in the dim early light. It is hard to stay in one position for long and I
notice I begin to fall into a dazed trance if I maintain a particularly
comfortable position. This is a drug that just hangs out with me and gently
guides me into different states of pleasure and sensation.
T11:51- The movie has ended- it is a curious
piece, visually stunning, vibrantly imaginative, and elusive in meaning.
Visuals played in the backgrounds and certainly enhanced the already intricate
textures with even more greebling. What a lovely experience. I did find myself
dozing off at times- not asleep but simply in a catatonic state where it seems
like thought and processing paused, left adrift in a sea of labyrinthine
ripples that glimmer with cyan and lime on their peaks. The movie is replete
with loud sudden noises that reverberate and echo in my skull, bouncing through
my neurons and shattering my thoughts, it felt lovely and cleansing. In general
though, I feel like I’m coming down, the experience is receding into a deeper neutrality.
Or perhaps because this peak has dragged on so long, I have simply become used
to it and recognize it as a new baseline, totally within my comfort.
T12:54- My heart feels tired, my body feels
tired, I try to lie down but of course I cannot feel rested at all because my
nerves are buzzing and trickling with electricity. The visuals have died down a
bit, retreating before the rising sun. I don’t know what to do with my body-
all signs are telling me to sleep but I can’t.
T16:00- I seem to have dozed off or something
for a bit, something like a stim nap. All I know is that I laid down and closed
my eyes and then suddenly a good bit of time had passed. The forceful
stimulation has receded, now all that remains is a residual tingling and tremor
in my extremities, a still racing heart that is sore and tired, twinges of
nausea, and a general sense of wired electric spaciness.
T17:30- I leave my house to go to a train
station to visit my friend who lives deeper in the suburbs. He is one of my
closest and dearest friends who I have known since I was a child. He is a
fellow psychonaut who has featured in many of my previous reports as a partner
in crime. I haven’t seen him beyond a few brief encounters last summer due to the
pandemic. I am super excited to go to his house and smoke a lot of weed and
play old gamecube games like we always do. Being out in public in broad
daylight is a bit uncomfortable, I feel on edge, dull and indistinct visuals
now dance faintly on surfaces, the labyrinthine forms inflated to be blobby and
amorphous, still adorned with color though it is faint and transparent. I try
to avoid other people until I have to board the train. I am in a daze, the
sound of the train rumbling down the tracks echoes and reverberates the air
around me, I hide down in my seat and try to pick out whatever visuals remain. It
is still chilly outside, overcast with a light drizzle. The conductor apparently
didn’t even notice me board and I get a free ride. Always nice.
T18:00- Arrive at my friend’s house. I have
come down enough that conversing in person isn’t difficult or awkward, though
there is still some psychedelia in my interactions, in the way my own voice
plays in my head loud and clear, in the sense that I have a hyperawareness of
every word I speak and their possible implications. But it is fun and
comfortable to be here, with someone so familiar who is in turn so familiar
with interact with me when I am tripping. We smoke some bowls of weed and play
Super Smash Bros. Melee. His girlfriend makes us frozen pizza which I am able
to eat without any problem. I find myself particularly proficient in melee
right now, as though my dexterity and fine motor skill has improved a lot-
indeed stimulation and tension may do that. We smoke more and transition to
Mario Party 6, a game he is much more skilled in. I am not as good at this one
but it’s colorful and light and fun. Socializing feels great, I have so much
energy to get out and just talking and catching up with a dear friend feels
like such an effective and satisfying way to spend that energy. There is a
fiery stimulation in my brain that shepherds me towards socializing and
interacting, I accept the path it has taken me on and speak words that seem to
fall into place exactly where they need to be- I receive words in turn that too
fall where they need to. Everything is truly ideal. They show me what they’ve
been building in their Minecraft server before I need to head out as they have
to go to bed early. It was so lovely to interact and my heart feel so full. The
drug still exists in my system as a deep stimulation, the last vestigial
sensation of this substance that refuses to go away.
T21:30- I walk to a Dunkin Donuts to get
something to eat. This area is clearly meant for only cars- the roads are wide
and foreboding, everyone is going so fast, there are no sidewalks and limited
crosswalks. I think about how a suburb develops, how so many big businesses
crop up along major roads and train lines like this, devolving into sprawling
residential neighborhoods from there. I wonder how fast the development will
go, if this will ever build up enough to become an area that could be
considered truly “urban”, if this is just one step in the life cycle of human
living spaces. The walk is scary- no sidewalks means constant awareness of the
cars whipping by at 50 miles per hour, stopping at times to keep myself safe.
It’s a shame that this place just is not meant for people and their measly two
legs.
Interacting with the store clerk is awkward,
I mostly feel dazed and strung out, a bit out of it, like my attention needs to
be jolted to respond properly. I get my donuts and hashbrowns and walk back to
the station, yet again dodging cars. I have to wait about an hour for the next
train. I still feel stimulated, forcefully alert. The ride home is a blur, I
think my brain is getting tired of processing information for so long. I have
been mostly awake for almost 40 hours now.
T24:00- I get home, eat more dinner, still
feeling it mostly just as stimulation. Visuals have disappeared, most of the
psychedelic thought processes have subsided, I am tired.
T26:00- Back to baseline I would say. I fall
into a deep sleep shortly after this, though it isn’t nearly long enough and
when I wake up the next morning I am still quite tired. I groggily drive back
to my house in the city and take another long nap. I feel entirely normal when
I wake up again.
Conclusion: DOPr is a marathon of a drug. The
duration is of course the most easily remarked upon aspect of the experience.
It is long, phenomenally long. I tend to metabolize drugs quickly and the
durations I experience are often shorter than normal, so other users can expect
their experiences to stretch even longer than mine did. It was long to the
point where one can get used to it, adapt to it, hardly notice that its there.
Almost to say that it lends itself to stagnation and forgettability. But it is difficult
for so long an experience to remain consistently novel. Beyond duration, the
overall qualities I would characterize this experience with are as follows:
For physical effects, moderate stimulation- a
constant mental buzz with a manageable degree of physical stimulation, while there
was restless legs and physical discomfort at times, at other times I was able
to lie down comfortable and almost doze off into an unawares sleep-like state.
This gentle stimulation is perhaps a property of the 4-alkane chain DOx’s- DOM induced
a tranquil bliss within me, and DOPr left me feeling gently and neutrally
still, in stark contrast to the overclocked stimulation other phenethylamines
carry. Perhaps DOET would be similar if I could ever encounter it. There was
some bodyload in a feeling of nausea that persisted throughout the experience,
though it wasn’t bad enough to suppress appetite and could often be ignored. At
a few points during the comeup however, it would swell and near a point of
vomiting.
Cognitive effects were fairly standard for a
phenethylamine- thoughts flowing well into each other, forming easily into well-formed
conclusions- acute holes of interest and relentless pursuit of knowledge,
though not as ravenous as some other compounds can be. In fact, most flow of
thought seemed organic and naturally paced, not hastened and racing. DOPr is a very
neutral drug cognitively, solidly in the middle of the road. There were at
times flashes of euphoria and satisfaction with my life’s circumstances or knowledge
I consumed, though I wouldn’t characterize the entire experience as being
particularly euphoric or enlightening- just overwhelmingly neutral.
Sensory effects were noticeable, interesting,
but ultimately also quite neutral in their nature and intensity, at least at
this dose. Visuals were predominantly tightly wound and meandering spiral
forms, appearing to ultimately produce labyrinthine patterns- these would serve
as a textured infill on other more neutral textures, sometimes a simple
2-dimensional overlay, other times a telescoping and deeply shaded relief. Various
spirals and repeating fern-like forms were also present, much of it having the concentric
repeated quality of a high-frequency vibration. All were replete with flashing,
drifting colors in stripes and spots, predominantly vibrant lime and olive
greens, bright magentas, lemon yellows, a deep navy blue, at time a dull ochre.
These colors weren’t vibrant or matte, but rather seemed cast onto a gelatinous
translucency like stained glass.
Overall I found DOPr to be an interesting
novelty, an insight into the question of “what if I was tripping on a psychedelic
for over a day? What would that feel like? “. I have taken other psychedelics
of purported marathon durations like DOB, DOM, 2C-P, or 2C-iP, though as
mentioned before, my body metabolized them faster than advertised. DOPr
provided my longest psychedelic experience yet. I didn’t find it to be
particularly exciting, though perhaps excitement would’ve been to its detriment
for such a duration. I think the neutrality of the experience was the best
possible scenario for that long stretch of time, it is a drug that allows me to
take it where I wish and walk it on my own leash. It does not force me to go anywhere,
which was a blessing under the circumstances. Perhaps that forcefulness could
be found in higher doses. Visuals were similarly matter-of-fact, present but
not forceful or intrusive with a unique character. I don’t think it’s an experience
I plan on ever revisiting but it was an interesting one that I am glad I had. I
think it is worth visiting by any psychonaut searching for breadth of
experience.
