Citation: Anatoli Smorin. "Tea for Twenty: An Experience with 2'-Oxo-PCE (exp114634)". Erowid.org. Aug 11, 2020. erowid.org/exp/114634
||(powder / crystals)
| T+ 0:27
||Alcohol - Beer/Wine
| T+ 1:00
||(powder / crystals)
| T+ 3:03
| T+ 3:53
||Alcohol - Beer/Wine
Within the realm of substance experimentation I would classify myself as well versed. I have over a decade of exploration spanning tryptamines, dissociatives, phenethylamines, opioids, opiates, and stimulants. In the past few years arylcyclohexylamines have taken hold as my favorite class of substances. The experience documented below is my first ever trial of O-PCE.
I donít have specific hopes or expectations for the substance going in. The last few dissociatives I have tried for the first time have not made their way onto my favorite list, so if anything Iím not expecting to love O-PCE out of an unfair guilt of association to these other recent trials.
The setting for the experience was my home, nestled up in forested mountains. I am in the company of my partner Kai and our two dogs Gee and Doc.
I had no tolerance to any of the substances ingested besides alcohol. An average day for me includes 3-5 drinks in the evenings. I also take vitamin D3 and mesalamine, daily, for a lifelong stomach condition. I do not believe any of these substances affected the experience.
The substance used in this experience was procured from a vetted source that supplied lab testing results. No red flags were raised when I conducted some basic reagent testing. I believe the substance to be pure and true.
All of the dosages in the report below were prepared using a freshly calibrated milligram scale.
To write this report I used extensive written notes. I am confident that the time stamps are accurate.
The last food I ate before ingestion of the O-PCE was a tuna and cucumber wrap at T Ė 03:23.
The substance was a powder: small granules, much like a white beach sand crossed with table salt. It seems a bit more fine than average sand. The color is pretty close to actual white, perhaps a touch of eggshell is present, but not much. A very standard ďwhite powderĒ.
T+00:00 [6:35 PM]
I carefully weigh out seven milligrams and tap out the material onto a hard surface. The fine powder crushes easily into even finer powder beneath my library card and the pressure of my index finger. I arrange the modest pile into a line and with a swift inhale, deliver it to my right nostril. The insufflation is benign in every regard. No taste, back drip, or pain.
T + 00:08 [6:43 PM]
During the short walk to the closest bathroom, I stumble slightly, my balance tilting to the left for one step. My internal dialogue considers if this was the O-PCE emerging or just a one-off balance failure. It's easily decided that this is a chemically induced stumble; Iím at a Ī.
On the return trip from the uneventful pee, I float through the room and land delicately on the couch. There's a particular airiness to my physical movement through space. It hints at an increased fluidity to life. Thoughts and ideas simplify, attuning to the here and the now. I feel like Iím part of a well oiled machine: the universe machine. In this moment, Iím not malfunctioning with anxiety, worries, or the repetitive thoughts that sometimes hinder me while sober.
Through a window, a metal ladder glints and winks in the evening sunlight as it leans lazily against the exterior garage wall. This simple example of elements interacting brings a smile to my face and fosters an appreciation for the raw beauty of everyday life.
Organs and bones seem to be a foreign concept. My whole body is a warm soft entity surrounded by an aura of comfiness. Any nervousness has been washed away. If this substance has a malevolent side, it is hiding it very well.
If this substance has a malevolent side, it is hiding it very well.
My entire visual field softens slightly; the edges of objects are almost blurred and close to bleeding into whatever is next to them. The color saturation makes it appear as if everything in the room just got a fresh coat of paint.
Something is askew in how my eyes are focusing. I canít tell if my out-of-focus peripheral vision is expanding and encroaching inward or if Iím just more aware of this area of my visual field than normal.
I look up from my notes, gaze resting on a large dream catcher hanging off fireplace mantel. Despite being seated, my eyes tell me Iím swirling forwards and rotating in a ďcrunch and un-crunchĒ motion. This movement is a physical demonstration of focusing my eyes. This is not like the walls are breathing or the wood grain is flowing; the movement feels like it's happening in my own head, as though Iím on a personal carnival ride whirling and spinning through my living room.
T + 00:18 [6:53 PM]
Time eludes me, sneaking past before I realized it was happening. A moment ago, one direction of my view was subject to a severe misinterpretation of spaces. A painting and the section of wall it hangs on were squashed into new proportions, as if an amateur photographer had resized a photo and improperly set the aspect ratio. I estimate that things are 25% narrower than they should be. By the time I reconcile with reality, the wrongness is gone, everything has returned to normal.
My throat is feeling increasingly tight. Airflow feels constricted, similar to how cocaine can affect me during its onset, but this is more of a singular pinch point than my entire trachea. And unlike cocaine, this has none of the numbing sensation.
This doesnít strike me as worrisome Ė just noteworthy.
T + 00:22 [6:57 PM]
The initial rise from baseline has been slightly turbulent but I never felt legitimate fear or concern. The unsettled worry, and even the eager curiosity, to see how I will react to this new compound is melting away. Iím settling into the experience in earnest now, having reached a + level.
T +00:27 [7:02 PM]
A few messages arrive one my phone: from my parents. I navigate the screen with ease and type out coherent responses. Mental confusion and turmoil are absent, I donít find the need to have Kai proofread for me before sending as I might on other psychedelics.
The first sip of a crisp cold beer is delightfully refreshing [12 oz. 4.6 % ABV].
Pondering the rest of the evening, I idly sip from the glass bottle and pass it back and forth between my hands. I already feel comfortable with the O-PCE. Iím pleased with the initial intensity and trajectory, and ready for more. Incorrectly or not, I decide to trust my gut in terms of how Iím reacting to the dosage. Erring on the side of relative caution, I'll hold off until an hour has passed before re-dosing. Often I wait too long to take a second dose on a ďfirst timeĒ experience, risking a waste of material and an elongated lackluster experience. O-PCE has an agreeable personality, with familiar traits of substances that I very much enjoy. It's so friendly that my guard is halfway down to the risks of re-dosing frivolously. Iím within my mental capabilities enough to recognize this and wonder why I might be so comfortable with this new potent compound. This internal conversation is articulate and reasonable and I canít detect any covert moreish or fiendy quality to my 2014-desires.
T +00:30 [7:05 PM]
Delicate tingling begins to tickle my upper body. There isn't any of the cold anesthetic sensation that accompanies some dissociatives. The prickling buzz is not a powerful feeling, but in fairness, none of the effects are very intense yet. This body high is enjoyable and well balanced with everything else Iím feeling.
The saturation in my vision is still elevated but Iím beginning to feel acclimated and this makes the effect less exceptional.
T 00:42 [7:17 PM]
My eldest dog Gee is showing forlorn body language, sulking in her spot on the rug across the room. A wave of emotion swells inside me. Her expression of sadness calls me to action; I give a quick whistle and make my way to the bedroom so we can cuddle on the bed. Lying together I am overtaken by a powerful and deep awareness of her mortality. I try to soak in every aspect of her in this moment. Her calm demeanor, velvet soft fur, beautiful coloration, and even her familiar natural light musky scent. I donít know that Gee is feeling as sentimental as me right now ó this is not one of the deep emotional bonds we have shared during previous psychedelic experiences. Regardless, Iím enjoying our time together and the general comfort of being sprawled out on a large comfortable surface. Gee, at the very least, is tolerating the extra attention, and also enjoying the bed.
Giving Gee a break, I transition to focussing inwards. I begin to scan my body, but am quickly distracted by the flashing images that are flowing as soon as my eyes are shut.
Strobing brilliant white light intersects with vivid scenes of greenery. Between the dazzling flashes, I watch plant growth in a visual format thatís somewhere between stop motion and a video in fast-forward. Soil pushes upwards, giving birth to tiny twisting fresh stems that reach toward the sky and then begin to flower and blossom. After a few seconds pass, the scene resets with a burst of white, allowing a new plant to repeat the cycle. Eventually the clips grow longer, allowing me to witness more mature growth where the plants cover my visual field. Everything appears incredibly realistic. The vividness is mediocre, a bit like a projector showing video in a room that is insufficiently dark.
T + 01:00 [7:35 PM]
I finish weighing out my booster dosage and the timing works out exactly as planned: to the minute! Seven additional milligrams of O-PCE, insufflated through my left nostril.
T + 01:03 [7:38 PM]
I really like the fast onset of this substance. By the time I return to the bed from my scale on the kitchen table Iím feeling the resurgence of effects. I sink into a cross-legged position and find my forearms growing increasingly heavy. Gravity grows stronger, pulling the bones, flesh, and muscles between my wrists and elbows downwards into my folded legs.
There is a sense of something beginning to happen, an invisible wave crashes over me. It exists beyond the five standard senses, but still registers obviously within my being; a swell of all the sensations expands as the intensity of the effects rises.
The simplistic, almost elemental tones from the lo-fi music are spot on right now. The audio quality itself, along with the content, is enhanced. Each note rings more true, more authentic, and is more visceral than when sober. Itís like the sound waves are wet, causing everything to sound more crisp and enriched than normal. The relaxed selection of songs meshes perfectly with my mood and need for a soothing auditory background.
Iím not rushing, or particularly manic, although there is no denying that I feel overtly positive, confident, and comfortable. The general flavor of the substance is less ďfeel goodĒ than 3-MeO-PCP or 3-HO-PCP but more so than ketamine or methoxetamine, which tend to be more psychedelic and cold for me.
T + 01:07 [7:42 PM]
With slight difficulty, I can read text on my computer screen. It seems like some physical part of my eyes is straining and stretching, overworked as they attempt to stabilize my focus. Constant effort puts stress on the edges of my eyeballs. It feels like Iím using a computer mouse that is set up with much higher sensitivity than Iím accustomed to.
T + 01:09 [7:44 PM]
Suddenly the sand is out of the visual gears; all is smooth. So, so, smooooth
. My eyes move around the room with silky precision. Like a mountain lion moving through a dark forest, stalking, confident, strong, and sleek.
My resting heart rate feels fast and a little strong, but is 68 BPM when I measure it. My notes simply read ďIt is coming now ó moving quickly to a ++ at least.Ē.
T + 01:22 [7:57 PM]
The pattern of intensity feels like a hammock swaying erratically, at the mercy of the wind. So unlike other experiences, where the effects come in consistent waves or a mountain shape on a chart, plotting experience intensity over time. O-PCE seems more whimsical with random pockets of increased intensity. It flutters, with the tap turning on and off.
I ponder the idea that the experience is not as willy-nilly as I think; perhaps my perception of time is skewing the patterns of intensity. After a bit of reflection I decide the orderless structure is legitimate and there is no mental trickery at play.
The closed eyed visuals vary in how interesting they are. All of them share the same distinct style however: life-like. No cartoons or ornate drawings. Everything looks as though it could be a high-quality video.
A tingling sensation creeps through my arm. I canít tell if my arm is ďasleepĒ from cuddling Gee in a slightly awkward position or if the buzzing is a notable manifestation of a body high.
T + 01:25 [8:00 PM]
I sit up to take better stock of my physical condition and write a few notes. There is definitely a ďhighĒ reverberating through my arms. Euphoria sounds like too intense of a word for what Iím feeling. ďBody loadĒ is not fitting either; too negative. The sensation isnít anesthetic; I can feel where my body contacts the bed beneath it. A mysterious slow oozing wave of prickly points presses up against the flesh on the inside of my skin. Each prick sets off a ripple of pleasant tingles.
Earlier in the week I hung a newly framed piece of art on one of the bedroom walls. The print is made up of delicately arranged circles, triangles, hexagons, and other small angular shapes. The naturally psychedelic nature of this piece is heightened dramatically. I expected this to be the case, but the degree to which the patterns come to life surprises me.
The configurations of shapes crawl around, changing locations with one another. The pace at which this happens is so fast that the entire piece of art transforms into a pulsing, swirling collage of colors and contours. The shapes themselves change. Circles are sliced into two semicircles, before breaking apart again into pie-slice shapes. After a minute or two, the art is reduced to twinkling dots, each smaller than the next, shrinking to infinity.
Eventually the tiny bits stop dividing and becoming smaller. They reassemble, combine together, overlap one another until they begin to develop a second layer of depth, adding complexity to the constant shifting. The primary colors of the print are bleeding into each other. Yellow, red, and blue generate a deep purple. Blinking and concentration do nothing to quell this. The purple is legitimately dancing around the paper.
As if this delightful visual display was not enough, things progress. The painting, still dancing, is sliced into horizontal ribbons roughly four inches tall. Every other stripe emerges a few inches off the wall. With the neighboring slices still resting at normal depth on the wall, there is a lot to take in.
Iím struck at how unusual it is for such a dazzling set of visuals to be contained by the artwork's frame. The enclosure of the multidimensional chaos is psychedelic in its own right. Only this object is visually rioting, the rest of the room is essentially normal.
ďHOT SACK OF GARBAGE!Ē - I find myself exclaiming. I canít remember what thoughts were running through the background of my mind to lead me to this comment. There is no desire to remember. Iím giggling; completely goofy with Kai, acting like a baby in a crib, except as an adult in a king size bed.
When I press on my closed eyelids, afterimages of the room roar to life in a scissoring, shattering manner. Shapes are jagged and limited to a simple color scheme; red, black, white, and some bizarre color that is none of them and yet multiple of them at the same time, like glowing lava that contains both red and black almost simultaneously. The colors, particularly the white, are accompanied by a searing sensation of heat! I feel it on my eyelids themselves as well as the front corners of my skull. There is a similarity in this sensation to the ďmind burningĒ or ďbrain sizzlingĒ I can experience when using methoxetamine, particularly at higher dosages.
A trip to the bathroom is uneventful. Nothing is difficult or unusual from a physical standpoint and I donít find any noteworthy visual effects either. Returning to the bed, I pause to gaze out through the large windows into the forest outside. My position is upright with my feet out of view, concealed by the edge of the bed frame. I have the bizarre sense of losing my balance, as though without seeing my toes, they can not possibly exist and thus can not assist in my equilibrium. I donít fall or even stumble ó all of the imbalance has been inside my head. Iím still smooth. I purposefully repeat the sensation of losing balance, but it becomes less interesting after the fourth repetition.
I am drenched in calmness. Concerns of the future or past are nonexistent.
I am drenched in calmness. Concerns of the future or past are nonexistent.
Iíd go so far as to say I feel enhanced rather than intoxicated. Even with the recent spacial oddity of losing my balance, I wouldnít describe this portion of the experience as ďtrippyĒ or ďdissociatingĒ in the classic sense. Through the dissociation with reality, Iím associating, with a different plane of serenity that allows me to have my faculties about me while mentally exploring.
T + 01:41 [8:16 PM]
The balance of psychedelia, feeling good, and useful enhancement in cognition is very enjoyable.
I feel that Iím coming down now off the peak ever so slightly. It could be a pullback of intensity: difficult to tell. I finish the beer I have open.
It takes me two attempts to get the password typed correctly on my laptop. Despite my mind feeling coherent, itís as though my fingertips are misaligned with the keys on the keyboard. I'm able to locate the micronubbins on the F and J keys, so I know Iím in the correct position, but my depth perception has other ideas. I can see my knuckles in perfect focus but the keys behind them, which are normally in focus, are not. This combined with some fine motor skill impairment makes typing about 25% more difficult and error prone than normal.
The result is that Iím slightly dizzy when typing. Writing on paper is the same. At most this is annoying but I wouldnít categorize it as unpleasant or nausea-inducing.
T + 01:57 [8:32 PM]
Walking to the kitchen to retrieve a drink I'm distracted by the sight of my camera tripod, which I've been meaning to fit a new mount onto with the end goal being some nighttime star photography.
I detour from the path to the refrigerator and begin to tinker with the long-procrastinated task of fixing the mounting hardware. I finish in just a few minutes. The excitement of the achievement snowballs and I grab my camera, the tripod, and some boots. I donít even mention to Kai that Iím headed outside to play with the camera. Iím on a mission.
T + 02:51 [9:26 PM]
I have been IMMERSED in taking photos in the low evening light outside. Kai startles me by opening the door onto the deck where I am taking pictures of incredibly ordinary outdoor furniture and a mountain backdrop from unusual angles, crouched low to see through the lens in my curious outfit of knee-high muck boots, shorts, and T-shirt.
Kai laughs out loud at the sight of me. I try to describe how fun and playful the past hour or so has been. Navigating the interaction of the mechanical adjustments of the tripod, especially its fluid head, the artistic angling and framing of abstract shots, and the technical settings of the camera itself have been mentally stimulating. Both my creative and analytical mind have been deeply engaged.
The immersion has been very pleasant. I felt like my heart was racing, and my cheeks flushing with a hot blush, but neither of these perceptions were real. I was balancing between being a creative eccentric and being a complete weirdo taking photographs of mud puddles in his back yard. I was aware that I was walking a fine line but every time I stopped to question myself, I decided I was on the ďrightĒ side of the fence.
Kai requests that I brew some tea for her before she turns in for the night. I donít have any hesitation heading to the kitchen to take on this task. I find the teapot and some some loose leaf ďEvening in MissoulaĒ, a favorite blend. I see there are two different bags of the tea and find myself smelling each repeatedly to see if I can detect any differences between the two. It seems I can! I select the one that seems most attractive and move forward with the process of boiling water and steeping the tea.
The sound of boiling water interrupts my internal conversation about the concept and history of tea. As I pour the tea into a mug I realize I have made far too: tea for twenty perhaps. It is clear that although the task of brewing tea has been manageable and I never felt clumsy or concerned about handling boiling water, as I might on other substances, I am not 100% rational. I laugh and chalk up the gallon or so of strong tea as a loss and move on.
T + 03:03 [9:38 PM]
Before delivering the mug of tea to the bedroom I take two medium-sized hits of cannabis oil from a vaporizer. Expecting a nice push of effects, Iím still shocked by the intensity of the cannabisís potentiation. As I watch the plume of exhaled vapor there is a sense of swimming under water. The air is thick and everything seems remote. My mind is fuzzy and warping away from reality. The countertops bulge upwards and my legs shrink into the floor. In a matter of seconds Iíve gone from making too much tea to having the counters grow until they are nearly shoulder height. Spatial ratios are gone with the wind. Instinctively I reach out and anchor myself to the counters by spreading my fingers across their cool hard surface. I donít do this out of fear, just to keep my balance in case things get increasingly weird. It turns out this isnít necessary as no other visual effects present themselves.
I have been taking everything in from this ďunderwaterĒ perspective where Iím more of a witness than a participant in the scene that my eyes are taking in. Soon everything, countertops included, returns to normal. The swarm of intensified effects has lasted less than a minute. Beyond the immediate response, the cannabis seems to be swallowed up by the O-PCE. Even with no tolerance I can barely register it. Normally this amount of cannabis would get me sufficiently high for an extended period of time.
T + 03:21 [9:56 PM]
Back in the bed, Iím messaging a few friends, discussing potential weekend plans. During these conversations Iím paying extra attention to the many aspects of the interaction. I consider multiple responses for every back and forth. This branches rapidly until Iím thinking several interactions ahead and considering potential routes the conversation could take. There is no sense of rattling out of control or being sucked into confusion or tangents. In fact, I seem to feel more capable of being honest and articulate. These feelings are still within reality; this is not a case of being intoxicated to the point of becoming incapable of interpreting other people's reactions and opinions. I can still feel the bristling tickle of embarrassment and discomfort when I voice an opinion I think might not be popular, when suggesting a mellower option for the weekendís backpacking route.
Another noteworthy component of the social interaction is my patience. Not in the sense of being the opposite of short-tempered or angry, but rather, in that I donít have as much anticipatory energy. There is no anxiety as I wait for responses to my comments. Iím more calm and comfortable being my honest self, just living in the moment.
T + 03:53 [10:10 PM]
While still above a + level, there is no doubt that Iím coming down towards baseline. Iíve felt this way for a little while now, but the trajectory of the descent is an elongated taper. I open a beer [12 oz. 4.6 % ABV], partially for the taste and partially to try and get a little sedation and buzz.
I enjoy the taste but I canít really feel the alcoholís effects.
O-PCE was like a chemical version of a person that you meet and immediately feel comfortable around, someone you could see becoming good friends with after just a short interaction. The compound felt friendly from the moment of insufflation right through the come down. I didnít find it to be particularly moreish, but re-dosing into a very late night certainly crossed my mind. In the end it was easy enough to put a stopper in the vial so to speak for the night when I thought through the repercussions of indulging. I wanted to Ė but it was easy to be logical about the decision.
It was a bit difficult to discern if this had any effect on my sleep. I got very little shut-eye the night before and thus seemed to drift into a heavy sleep with ease. The quality of sleep was standard and I did not have any noteworthy dream recall the next morning.
I hesitate to draw too many comparisons between O-PCE and other dissociatives, given that I've only have several experiences with O-PCE [I have used O-PCE a few times since the first experience described in the report above Ė before I completed writing this]. With the obvious disclaimers that YMMV and this is not a substance I have loads of experience with, Iíll make the following comments.
O-PCE seemed like a hybrid between 3-MeO-PCP, 3-MeO-PCE, with a sprinkle of ketamine. The warmth and mental state was much more comparable to the two former chemicals than the latter. The space was certainly dissociative but it was warm and welcoming. I found it less confusing, in the sense that I could communicate my ideas more easily than during experiences of comparable intensity of 3-MeO-PCP or methoxetamine. It was not as clear-headed as 3-MeO-PCE and it has less energy built into it, both physically and mentally. The visuals were pleasant, but have not been as vivid or spectacular as ketamine can be for me. I have not yet holed on this substance and I think doing so might require a significantly higher dosage or different route of administration.
O-PCE offered an intriguing ability to submerge myself deeply in various activities. There were moments of ďlucidityĒ where I could sense the synthetic nature of my enthusiasm, but I legitimately enjoyed the ability granted to me by the substance to become entirely present in the current moment. I anticipate this as a future use case for the chemical. Along similar lines, I think this has potential to be a semi-social substance for me. I enjoy low dosage experiences with other arylcyclohexylamines in situations where Iím with a few friends actively conversing. I think this could be very effective in such a setting due to its ratio of confusion to fuzzy dissociation.
The dissociative or trippy headspace was very well balanced with a physical euphoria and mental positivity. O-PCE seems to stand close to the center of the ďVenn diagramĒ of dissociative substances and their effects; it has a little bit of everything.
A very noteworthy bit of information I took away from this experience was the phenomenally fast onset of this chemical. The initial effects, and then the nearly peak intensity, were reached more quickly with O-PCE than perhaps any other dissociative I have tried, assuming insufflation was the route of administration. I really enjoyed this and did not find it jarring or unsettling. There was no room for anxiety to build during the come up and I rather liked getting the experience going once I decided to initiate it.
I didnít have any issues with a hangover, lingering effects, or afterglow in the day(s) following my experience.
COPYRIGHTS: All reports are copyright Erowid and you agree not to download or analyze the report data without contacting Erowid Center and receiving permission first.
Experience Reports are the writings and opinions of the individual authors who submit them.
Some of the activities described are dangerous and/or illegal and none are recommended by Erowid Center.