Citation: smallhippyblonde. "Deeply Synchronistic: An Experience with 25I-NBOMe & Nitrous Oxide (exp101538)". Erowid.org. Jun 19, 2016. erowid.org/exp/101538
A Deeply Synchronistic Trip
I am not telling this true story as a way to advocate drugs. It is simply a narrative of my personal experience and how it changed my life and perceptions.
Synchronicity is a funny thing. Some deny its actual existence as a property of time and life. But things seem to happen sometimes, significant occurrences that are deeply connected, but not in cause. Part of my reasoning for believing in such a synchronicity in life is my experience in an alternate reality. I gained this experience through a psychedelic drug called “N-bomb”. I am intelligent enough to know that a lot of this is in my head, yet just experiencing the energy waves of the universe in this manner caused me to think that because something so strange and unique as that can exist, other spiritual and meaningful ideas like synchronicity can become minor, but most of all obvious. This is the tale of how I have come to these realizations, centering around the trigger for my changed perceptions and deep self-discoveries, or the first time I tripped on psychedelics.
I was pissed. I’d been forced to come all the way to my grandmother’s house indefinitely, to spend time with her and get boating lessons, which by the way, I never actually got. I was diagnosed Bipolar Disorder, and have been on medication for it for years. I always thought the meds weren’t for me, that they weren’t actually helping, but at the urging of my family and psychiatrist, stayed on them. I was so pissed that I was doing this whole vacation thing basically for them; I decided to do something for myself and stop taking all the meds, so I quit cold turkey as soon as I arrived. I felt free.
On the first day I reconnected with some old friends, who I then spent most of my time with. The person out of them that I felt closest to was Benny. I admired and respected his personality, but occasionally feared it. He was the master of all. Sometimes it would seem as if everyone else were his puppets, his toys that he messed with and got tons of pleasure out of getting them all high out of their minds. I remember the night that I realized this. We were all sitting around Benny’s table in his private, back-house loft. His computer and chair were at one side, and there were multiple chairs surrounding everywhere else. I was sitting across from him, and Emily and Darren, an alcoholic husband and wife duo who lived in a room in the large front house of the property, were on the side. Mary, Benny’s girlfriend of a few years, also almost a decade his junior, was doing her usual anxious cleaning and tidying up around the apartment.
I started to notice something funny about Emily and Darren’s behavior. They were always pretty drunk off of alcohol, but tonight was different. Emily was way too wasted for it to be just that. Darren’s eyes were wide open, and he wasn’t really making sense or exhibiting normal speech patterns. I said to Benny, “Hey man, wanna come have a smoke with me?” Now usually, everyone else would be jumping up to join us, but they were so absorbed by whatever they were absorbed with that they barely noticed us go outside. “What the hell is wrong with them?” I asked. He smiled. “They’re way drunker than normal...” I continued. He laughed.
“I dosed Darren on four hits of trips, and Emily is rolling balls on Molly,”
My first drunken reaction is to blurt out, “Well, where the fuck’s my drugs?” He led me to the bedroom, where from a closet he pulled his stash of hundreds of N-bomb tabs. I took two of those and a bunch of Molly myself. I didn’t trip that night; I mostly felt the molly.
Still I was ecstatic! I’d always wanted to trip, but the medication I took for bipolar was so mind-altering itself, I couldn’t.
I’d always wanted to trip, but the medication I took for bipolar was so mind-altering itself, I couldn’t.
I’d even tried several drugs in the past, with absolutely no effects. I hadn’t even known that my friends did those things; let alone had tons of it just lying around. So how, just after I’d been off the meds long enough to gain the ability to trip, was I suddenly offered such an opportunity? I’m inclined to say that it was complete synchronicity.
The next day we all walked across a busy highway to breakfast at Waffle House. We agreed that we had to plan a day for us all to trip together, and invite Benny’s best friend as well. We planned for it all to go down the following Friday.
That fateful Friday rolled around, and we were all back at the house. We sat down and received our doses, along with very distinct directions from Benny: “Put these under your tongue, and don’t move. Don’t drink, don’t smoke, try not to even open your mouth, and do that for as long as possible.” And so I put my four tabs under my tongue, after inspecting the odd appearance. It looked like a small piece of cardstock, divided into four sections, with a printed Buddhist-looking symbol on each. How ominous, I thought. Shortly after I put them in place, I got a text from my grandmother asking me to meet her at a restaurant down the street. Oh God…But my only experience with the N-bomb before had been that one night, and I’d been able to hold my own then so why not? It’ll be twenty minutes, I wrote on a piece of paper and left. When Benny read it, all he could say was, “Good luck”.
I felt a little funny walking to meet her but kept on nonetheless. When I sat at the table, I felt a little nauseous. I excused myself and went and made a terrifying mess of the bathroom there. I puked about three times and then felt oddly balanced. I emerged from the restroom as if I was a butterfly emerging from my cocoon. My eyes felt a little buggy, and I was sweating. I sat back at the table as my whole environment came alive. My breathing was strange and uneven, but I still tried my best to not seem like I was crazy or worse yet, on drugs.
my whole environment came alive. My breathing was strange and uneven, but I still tried my best to not seem like I was crazy or worse yet, on drugs.
I attempted to read the menu, but the words wouldn’t stay put long enough for me to succeed. My grandmother asked me, “Honey, my eyesight’s so terrible, and could you read to me what’s on the Cobb salad?” Again, Oh God. I looked at it for a few minutes until she repeated the question, which gave me enough motivation to get those words out. I did, with a silent sigh of relief. I rested my eyes and mind by enjoying looking at other things until the waitress came to take our orders. She ordered the Cobb salad of course, and I didn’t even want to try looking at that menu again, so I said the same. Shortly after, the food came.
I was so restless and totally not in the mood for food I couldn’t even look at it, though I admit it had a delightful appearance. I immediately said, “You know what, I feel sick. I’m going to walk home.” She was fine with it, and said she’d box up my food and take it there for me later.
I stumbled home with my eyes wide open, so open that not only could I feel it physically, but symbolically. I hated leaving my beloved grandmother bewildered at that restaurant, but I needed to go to a safe place, as I felt like I was temporarily sick and needed to just get over it. I arrived at the house, unlocked the door, and the next thing I knew I was lying in my bed, in the very midst of a completely new and foreign place, and altogether reality. As I lay there, the first thing I noticed was a steady background noise. Have you ever heard a really heavy, slow, low, bass line in a dub step mix? It was like a steady “WAAHWAAHWAAH” pulsating, vibrating and ringing through my brain. I knew this noise, which I had never heard before, was actually more of a combination of a noise and overall vibe. It was the vibrations and overall energy waves of the universe. Had I experienced this in my normal life, it may have even been bothersome. But in the middle of this “trip,” I found solace in feeling so close to everything that does and does not, that has and will exist.
I began to see things in the middle of noticing this, and then shifted my focus to these visuals. It started with these holographic, geometric shapes spinning. They spanned over my entire sightline. They had rainbow colors, like a solid piece of glass with a light shining through. It felt as if my sight were in real time, as the shapes were spinning at a pace akin to my routine idea of the speed of living, but my body and brain were in slow-motion. I felt myself go “Wow…” I’m not sure if I actually spoke, or just sent the message through my opened mind. With each millisecond, everything became more and more vibrant, as if not only was I looking into direct sunlight, but I was that light. It didn’t hurt my eyes. The next visual that caught my eye were flowers. Next to my bed, hiding a sliding glass door, there were cream-colored curtains with watercolor-painted flowers in all different colors. These flowers were changing size and transparency and floating to and fro, all around me.
I don’t tend to adhere to any one existing religion, but God was speaking to me through everything, without saying an actual word. I could feel God’s voice and his messages without hearing at all. I didn’t realize it then, but those messages were deeply embedded in my mind, only to reveal themselves one by one for the rest of my life. I felt this was a gift from space and time, which I believe are living entities that ebb and flow, so fluid and undefined yet real enough to recognize to a mere human being.
I was in all different sorts of places and was all different sorts of things. At one point I was under a billowing golden tree, admiring the silky clouds in the sky. There was also a period where I believed my body was actually an airport. It sounds absurd, but bear with me. I felt rigid like the building itself. I felt flat like the asphalt from which the planes take off and land. I felt all the people walking and heard them talking. I felt their frustration about missing their flight, or happiness from whatever reason they were travelling. It’s funny because I myself was travelling in a way. I kept hearing “Business or pleasure, business or pleasure, business or pleasure?” All the while giggling at the insanity of it all! I was basically having a non-sexual orgasm, but even more euphoric than that.
I was basically having a non-sexual orgasm, but even more euphoric than that.
Suddenly, my ecstasy was interrupted by fear: my grandmother could come home at any second. I threw together a bag with some essentials, i.e. water, and texted Mary. “I’m about to journey back over there, pray for me girl.” She replied, “I praying,” I giggled and that humorous thought got me through the walk back to their house.
I got really anxious as I walked past the house into the backyard and up the stairs to Benny and Mary’s door. I threw open the door, and got the words I’d been planning to say out: “Okay, I know you guys thought I wasn’t here, but I was here. OHHH, I was here the whole time. But you guys still have no idea what you missed…” Benny nodded his head and gave that conniving smile he does in moments like this. Then I noticed; they all had drawn-on cat faces. The furniture was rearranged, couch cushions everywhere. We all just laughed and had a group venture to the porch for a cigarette. At this point we were all excitedly questioning, “What’s next? What’s next?!” This was where things got even more interesting.
The next thing I can remember was all six of us sitting in the dimly-lit master bedroom, obsessing over hit on hit of whip-its. “Whip-its,” the name with which they are so lovingly adorned, are small steel cylinders of compressed nitrous oxide, “chargers”, which were supposed to be used as a whipping agent for cream, yeah, right. Since we were classy, we didn’t release the gas into a balloon, but screwed these little silver cylinders onto quite a large reusable whipped cream canister, and pulled a lever and inhaled. To feel the best effect I pulled the lever and inhaled deeply as much as I could, and held it in as long as physically possible. After doing this a few times, it gets to a point where it’s impossible to even realize I’m still holding it in because I’m so out of my mind. The high doesn’t last very long, which is why one does this repeatedly, and why it’s also nicknamed “Hippy Crack”. And I literally felt like I was a crackhead doing this. I honestly have no idea how long this went on, but we just sat in a circle, each with our own giant box of chargers, and passed around the canister. We were obsessed. Hundreds of those emptied little silver bullets peppered the floor. I remember holding the canister, re-loading and re-loading. It felt awesome. I could barely speak. For those moments all that mattered was this magical gas.
My entire life came full circle in my head several times. Pictures and scenes of my eighteen years of living flashed all around me, along with my friends’ changing voices and appearances. Our obsession sickened me but also forced me to reflect. When they were all gone, we became desperate off of our highs and tried to find fresh ones out of all the used ones that covered the entire apartment. To no avail, we gave up and gave it a rest. Like I said, I’m still not entirely sure if we had sat there for hours or minutes. My experience with this drug was so intense that to this day, if I take a singular hit of nitrous oxide, I mentally and almost physically flashback to that moment. It’s sad, but if I could afford it, I would set aside time to just do that for hours. It was a beautiful and scary experience, enhanced greatly by my trip.
The rest of the night was spent coming down. Since I had never tripped before, slipping back out of this different reality was a bit awkward for me. I would think I was done tripping, and then it’d come back, in waves. There was in particular this one branch of this one tree directly in front of the porch, which was at the top of the stairs. This tree somehow symbolized me. It was still, but ever-changing in my at the time delicate mind. For me, it represented nature, but above all love.
When all seemed to be said and done, Mary offered for me to spend the night, but I hadn’t talked to my grandmother at all since I’d seen her. I was scared, but knew I needed to face the music with her. I walked home, all the while baffled by what in the world I could say to her to make any of this at all okay. When I spoke to her, she was mad. I apologized and gave very little information as to my whereabouts since 3 o’clock when she had last seen me. It was about midnight then. I cried a little, but only in an effort to appease her anger and seem like it mattered. It didn’t. I retreated to my room and reflected deeply on the events of that day. I could barely sleep, but when I did, I smiled. I know because somehow I felt my slumber differently than before, and through that also awoke and gained a new awareness of myself.
The whole experience did not change my life in an instant, contrary to a popular belief that after tripping nothing is ever the same. Since then, I have been able to reflect more deeply, and explore myself. I’ve been able to empower myself and not give in to my innate pain and sadness so easily.
I’ve been able to empower myself and not give in to my innate pain and sadness so easily.
I’ve gained so much spiritual growth over these past few months. I’ve felt more beautiful than ever. But most of all, I’ve developed somewhat of a selflessness, which I find so much comfort in. I feel like I’m on the right path to healing, and it feels wonderful.
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