Citation: Lord Sebin. "Everything Separates: experience with Cannabis (ID 42168)". Erowid.org. Aug 7, 2007. erowid.org/exp/42168
At the time that I write this and the time that I smoked up, Iím 2 weeks from my 18th birthday. I weigh 150 pounds, and this is the 4th time Iíve been stoned. First, an introduction. I was raised in a typical suburban environment; I hear many unspoken messages implying that drugs are ďbadď. The word ďbadĒ is vague and weak, which captures the strength and severity of the anti-drug campaign Iíve felt. From time to time I see advertisements in magazines implying that smoking marijuana leads to destitution. On tv I see ďWhatís your anti-drug?Ē commercials, which are spaced weeks apart and are shown rarely. Stoners are looked down upon, but mainly for their inaction and general lack of intelligence and motivation, not expressly because they smoke pot.
Being raised in such an ambiguous atmosphere gave me the opportunity to decide, without pressure in any direction, whether I wanted to experience psychoactives first-hand. I was overly cautious, so I began sifting the internet for reliable information. I read and read until I keeled over from exhaustion. I lost my fear of marijuana, and found myself a source. A few weeks later, Iím writing this experience report.
The Experience Itself
Sunday night, I had just returned from a flight to D.C., and due to a slight hunger and lack of sleep, I had a minor but persistent headache. I had rolled two cigarette-sized joints a week before, but Iíd used one, and I only had one left. Rather recklessly, I decided to smoke up despite the fact that both all my siblings and my parents were home. I planned my trip pretty meticulously, I would empty my bag from D.C., then strip down, smoke the joint in the bathroom with the window open and the fan on, then take a shower after I finished the joint. Hopefully the telltale smells would have wafted out the window and I would be clean, literally and figuratively.
Everything went as planned, but my trip was much stronger than any previous trip Iíd experienced. Normally I can hold ganja smoke in for 3-4 hits, but this time I could only hold in the first one. I was persistent in trying to hold my breath, but I just kept coughing. Once the joint was done I assumed that I hadnít smoked well enough and that I would feel no high, but in about 30 seconds I felt just the opposite.
I realized I had lost all conscious control of my limbs, and my eyes had no peripheral vision. I only knew what was happening if I concentrated on it, and this applied to my limbs as well. Natural, repetitive motions such as walking, or in my case showering were possible, but only because theyíd been ingrained into my subconscious. Every time I tried to do something slightly abnormal, for example, stand on one foot, Iíd find it extremely hard.
I must also add that when I say I had no peripheral vision, I mean it. My field of vision looked exactly like an old black and white movie, where the corners of the screen have a black haze on them, and the lighting focuses on one object. I noticed that while looking at my arm, I couldnít see my legs or my feet, and when I looked at my feet, everything else had disappeared from view, due to my lack of peripheral vision.
I noticed that I was blinking often, and my eyes seemed to run like a projector that only showed every third frame of a movie, while running at a 40x minute speed. I would look at moving objects, like the water of the shower, and then wonder what theyíd look like when my eyes caught them again in the next visible frame. Even weirder, my actions didnít look normal. Every time I did anything, for instance, raised my arm, Iíd see an old medical diagram in my mind of a manís arm moving, complete with a small script letter at the bottom that said Fig. 1. But it wasnít just one picture. As I moved my arm the picture switched to a different diagram of the arm in a different position, my current position. And the pictured would stack on top of each other, and remain numbered, increasing, I think through Fig. 40.
Having turned off the shower and dried myself off, I left the bathroom, but left the window open and the fan on. I walked to my room, got dressed, and contemplated what to do next. Iíd planned on watching a dvd on my laptop, but I was consumed by an inexplicable hunger that was 20 times stronger than any of my previous hungers while high. I had a fruit-by-the-foot and a square of chocolate at hand, and I ate them so fast I had to stop myself in the middle from spitting flecks of food all over.
Obviously I needed to take drastic measures, so I trudged down the stairs and poured myself a glass of orange juice. My mother was downstairs, and I began to ask her a series of random, pandering, incomplete questions relating to how much food we had. She didnít catch on, thankfully, and I cut myself a small piece of cake. That didnít satisfy me, so I cut a piece twice as large and poured another glass of orange juice. I ended up eating 4 large pieces of cake and drinking 4 glasses of orange juice before I felt full enough to stop. It goes without saying that my headache had disappeared.
My parents began talking to each other, and I couldnít make anything out of what they were saying. Every word they said seemed random, and weird plotlines relating to their words appeared in my head. I realized that the weed had made their conversation incomprehensible, so I ignored it and walked carefully back up the stairs. Having reached my room I turned on my laptop and watched a dvd. It was hard to follow what was happening, and harder to piece different scenes together until they were understandable, but I understood the movie and remembered it pretty well.
After finishing the movie I began to pack for school the next day, which went surprisingly smoothly, though I was still stoned. I went to sleep extremely relaxed, and feeling no ill effects, save some minor paranoia, which was to be expected.
Looking back I notice that the marijuana made my brain stupid. I couldnít do anything without focusing, and I felt like a 7-year old. I seemed 3` 6`` and I distinctly remember smelling and feeling stimuli that I hadnít felt since I was quite young. Everything felt and looked much larger than it was. Iím taller than both my parents, but I looked and felt much smaller.
Everything I saw/felt/ate was separated into its disparate pieces in my mind -- the pulp from the orange juice had a distinct texture Iíd never felt, separate from its fruity taste, which was separate from its smell. Every stimulus was separate from every other stimulus, even if they came from the same source. Colors I concentrated on that stayed still fell apart into their sectional colors, a purply color on my computer screen had distinct tinges of blue, green and purple when stared at. I could only compute one stimulus at a time, which may explain my loss of peripheral vision. I was able to discern the intricate pieces of everything, but only one at a time.
Iíve read that the brain ignores many sounds/colors/sights if theyíre repeated or known, that is to say that smells blend together instead of staying disparate, as do colors and physical feelings. But under the effects of ganja, everything separated, and I felt young again, feeling every stimulus for one of its first times.
This experience with Cannabis was exhilarating. I felt relaxed and hungry, I lost my headache, and everything I saw or did was new, significant, and strong. I slept well and was happy the next morning. I intend to smoke weed again, but not to make a habit or routine of it. Something this good shouldnít be dulled by frequent use.
Experience Reports are the writings and opinions of the individual authors who submit them.
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