DOSE: T+ 0:00	100 mg	oral	MDMA
T+ 2:30	50 mg	oral	MDMA
T+ 2:30	12 mg	oral	4-HO-MET
T+ 5:30	50 mg	oral	MDMA
T+ 5:30	20 mg	oral	2C-B
T+ 6:30	2 lines	insufflated	Ketamine
T+ 9:00	100 mg	IM	Ketamine

BODY WEIGHT:

155 lb

Previous personal experiences: use of MDMA, 2C-B, ketamine, 4-HO-MET, LSD, cannabis, and alcohol in both closed and open settings and in combinations, as well as DMT and 5-MeO-DMT in closed settings. Besides alcohol, I began recreational use after age 25, with over 20 experiences at the time of this report. Dosages have ranged from threshold to heavy, the latter twice with 5-MeO-DMT and once with LSD + 2C-B + ketamine. My use is intentional, for both enjoyment and self-exploration. I monitor myself for patterns of addiction or dependence.

Overview: This account describes an evening (3 pm to 1 am) using MDMA, 4-HO-MET, 2C-B, and ketamine with friends, ending in a “deliberate” k-hole.

Note: Substances were tested, measured with precision scales, and used in a safe private setting. The intention was to have fun with friends, while being curious and open to whatever experiences would arise. There were no medications, herbs, or special supplements being taken besides some magnesium gums during the trip.

T 0:00 – beginning of the roll (100 mg MDMA, water-diluted, oral)

I gulp the water mix and sink into the couches, planning to meditate for twenty minutes. I’ve lost touch with the practice. If not for the sofa’s pull and the externalized pressure, I would have left already. Stuck there, my attention wavers: breath, people, breath; repeat. We’re not monks. I see a similar restlessness in others. Still, it soothes me.

The session ends. I assess my state: still sober and somewhat grounded. I feel normal: slightly detached from my emotions, scanning the room, focusing on my thoughts. My body is relaxed, with slow, measured movements. Relative to yesterday’s work pressure and social apprehension, this is an improvement. The opening circle last evening, then the Four Directions ritual earlier, and above all, the warmth of each interaction, have increased my sense of safety.

A smile blossoms; I step outside to chat with friends. I roll in the grass like a child. The effects of the substance start to be noticeable. I censor myself less, both in speech and action. After chatting and playing awhile, I strip and slip into the pool. The water is cool on my skin. I shower, change clothes, and get ready for another round.

T 2:30 – second dose (50 mg of MDMA + 12 mg of 4-HO-MET, oral)

I push things to the next level with a second dose. I join the couches to meet another friend. Our talk unfurls. At some point, I realize and express how privileged I feel to share this quality time together. I’m surprised again. Compared with my baseline, self-inhibition decreases and verbal affection comes easily. Why didn’t I learn to tell the people I love that I love them? And how do I make this into a daily practice?

Two other friends drift in. I’m pulled toward one of them with an uncontrollable curiosity. Each answer meets an unfiltered question. A kernel of fear stirs: am I being intrusive, crossing some line? Yet the pull is stronger than restraint. The questions don’t feel chosen; they arrive from somewhere beyond me. I’m living his answers, I vanish into his story. It is a familiar, if intensified, pattern: there is an urge to dissolve into another person, to drink them in until I’m full. It feels selfless and invasive at once, an intimate hunger at odds with my sense of care and reciprocity.

T 5:30 – third dose (50 mg of MDMA + 20 mg of 2C-B, oral)

It feels like a blink; somehow two hours slide by. I had planned only 2C-B, yet I end up adding what remains of the mix at the last moment. I lie back and look up. The pouring rain scatters across the roof window. Its rhythm adds to the playlist. The day feels whole because of it. I’m grateful. Without rain, something would have been missing. At dusk, with everyone gathered inside, the timing is perfect.

I rise and join friends stretching. Energy surges through me, a vibrant tingling, a call for motion. I push my body gently to its limits, twisting into odd shapes, each strain releasing in a pulse of pleasure. Around me, laughter breaks out. I bask in the current flowing through us, festive and electric.

T 6:30 – fourth dose (two rails of ketamine, insufflated)

It is dark now. Ketamine circulates on a tray. I keep playing and chatting. After a second line, things get weirder. Time stops behaving. One moment I stand to pee, the next I realize I’m outside, already returning. The in-between shrinks to flashes: the doorframe, the pavement, then the grass. In contrast, the journey home stretches into an uneventful odyssey.

I’m drawn to the kitchen for flavors. I get stuck there with another person, hunting for the right texture. Dried mango takes forever to chew; we try a few to be sure. Cookies paste over the teeth, and the sugar hit doesn’t come... Disappointing. Nuts, though! Nuts are just right. Pack some in your pocket, you’ll thank me later. Only when someone new drifts into the space, and the talk shifts, do I finally head back to the cluster of couches.

I land mid-discussion and barely follow at first, but the charge is obvious: something long-brewing is tipping tonight. I ask what’s going on. There are three doses for an intramuscular shot of ketamine. Two are already taken. There’s one left. I’m sold. From past experiences, I know there is danger in going deeper into the psychonaut realm. So far, I’ve been lucky. I wonder if I’m being reckless: I haven’t informed myself about this route, double-checked amounts, or read others’ reports. Still, they’ve been discussing the preparatory work, and I decide to go with the flow. I feel ready to face whatever might surface, and I have a couple of days with friends to integrate whatever emerges.

T 9:00 – fifth dose (100 mg of ketamine, intramuscular)

Preparations take a while, from taking a moment to calm down to preparing the syringes. Being tipsy doesn’t help, yet it’s still fun to engage. Focusing on these tasks reassures me; I’m able to perform this precise work. We take our shots and stand waiting, until one of us suggests sitting down. Not long after, my friend glances at me: “It’s like being hit by a truck.” Then he falls back on the couch. Excited, I sink onto the pouf and let my body unclench.

I’m not hit by a truck. It’s a ramp, long, continuous, inexorable.

I sweep my attention around. My friend is on my left; we hold hands. Others cluster ahead. Another group chats beside them. I make a full loop, then another. The loop grabs me. Each pass lifts something inside. Distances shrink. Everyone edges closer. The roof, the background, the air between us all come forward and blend with the people. There is no void between things. Everything integrates into one entity.

The rise keeps coming. My focus frays, yet I still feel surrounded by entities. They are all tied to each other and to me, through chemical reactions. A current moves through us. In hindsight, it may follow my attention rather than drive it. In the moment, it feels as if we all share this energy. It runs among us. Through me. Sensations no longer map my body. I don’t feel a body anymore.

The climb continues. My eyes may be open, but visuals blur. Colors and shapes shift into mosaics, then into geometric forms. In hindsight, these effects may come from lingering traces of 2C-B.

I sense, more than see, the entities and myself. We congeal into one. Nothing else exists. The universe is this meta-entity, perpetually exchanging energy through chemical interactions. I start to question reality as I knew it. Brief thoughts arrive, absurd in their strangeness: Is there such a thing as “English”? The idea that language itself exists feels wrong. It soon vanishes from my consciousness. The same happens with other concepts and memories. How could there be continents, humans, or anything else beyond this meta-entity?

We are an amalgamation: energy in constant flux, without intent. It just happens. For a moment, I question whether there are other “realities,” other bubbles of meta-entities that could exist nearby, without “me” being able to perceive them. But my sense of togetherness and completeness gets stronger, and I reject the idea.

There are brief moments when I’m back in the world, if barely. I see from my own perspective: a friend above me, asking how I’m doing. I make a victory sign, but it feels as if I’ve entered someone else’s dream, and it feels so foreign that I go back to being the meta-entity.

At the apogee, “I” am the meta-entity, an entity connected with itself. I am one; there is nothing else but me. A consciousness drifting through existence. An ever-changing assemblage of 4-D geometric figures expressing themselves in a 3-D space, all surfaces black, a vivid black that hides all colors within, while the edges glow with a pale white light. There is no beginning, no destination. I just exist, going through all these sensory experiences without any form of agency. There is a moment of dread at being imprisoned, condemned to this constant flux of sensations without purpose. Then there is acceptance, surrender, and I just enjoy it. This is what it is. Nothing more, nothing less. Just an ever-changing entity. Adrift. Alone. I ride the waves. I journey for the sake of it.

Glimpses: a towel, vomit. Blackout. More vomiting. People around me. Friends pass me a tissue. My body grabs it and smears it across my face. Micro-blackouts. I return intermittently. My body moves before I think to move. I stay on my knees for awhile. I’m conscious of friends around, tending to me, making me feel cared for. I feel both love and sorrow. I wish I could tell them I’m okay. I don’t want to burden them. But talking is too complicated. I surrender again and feel grateful instead. I vomit a couple more times. I should be weirded out or ashamed, but it feels normal. My body is acting; it is taking care of itself.

I finally stand. Mobility returns. I reassure friends, then head to the bathroom to vomit again. Memories return, looking like illusions I once took for real. It takes time to convince myself I’m speaking English. I’ve been under the veil of the illusion we call reality, and what I experienced felt so much truer. Now I re-enter the shared construction we call reality. Meanings feel contingent, socially maintained by people without access to that unity. I’m tired and don’t resist as the ordinary world settles back in.

Next day

I wake up low on energy even though I slept well. I’m heavy-limbed and emotionally flat. There is a wall between me and the others. I feel more distant, less able to connect. Crossing that invisible barrier feels hard. I mostly attribute it to the MDMA comedown.

As the day unfolds, I hear feedback from last night. The majority wasn’t prepared for the three of us taking intramuscular ketamine. My non-verbal state and spasms scared them. Some didn’t know if what was happening was normal, or who was in charge. A few were angry at the person who provided the injections. Others, more experienced, stayed calm: this can happen, it just has to pass.

The friend who held my hand through the IM trip got a softer hit, but he still felt responsible for me. At one point he worried I might be stuck in limbo. He rationalized: he would check again in thirty minutes. Thankfully, someone else supported him, helping him focus on his own needs.

I try to grasp at how people feel, apologizing in case my state disturbed their experience. I reassure them: I am okay, and for me it was a good trip. I don’t face direct confrontation, yet I sense some people are off, more closed than usual. Maybe it’s their own comedown; maybe it reflects my distance as I externalize my inner state.

Beyond its effect on others, I feel no shame about what I did. The experience aligns with my personal journey, with what I seek from these states. On reflection, I see I made myself smaller that day, carrying their reactions. I notice how I carried their reactions; now it feels clearer that this weight belongs to them. Still, I learn it is better to double-check with everyone, and to have properly defined tripsitters for extreme routes like IM.

Closing remarks

I feel content with the experience itself. While its lessons are not simple to articulate, it deepens my understanding of what others may endure in such states and how best to support them: attending to physical safety while staying calm about whatever unfolds in their minds.

It also sharpens my sense of role clarity, learning to distinguish between what is truly my responsibility and what belongs to others. Alongside this, I see the importance of maintaining boundaries, both to protect myself and to prevent my actions from unintentionally harming those around me.

The dissolution of self revealed how fragile the line between “me” and “others” really is. That insight carries the potential to widen empathy, but it also underlines the need to balance openness with grounded limits.

Perhaps most valuable, I practiced the shift from resistance to acceptance: moving from dread to surrender and, eventually, to enjoyment of the very same experience. Carrying that lesson into daily life could foster greater flexibility and a more open response to difficulty. And finally, I sense the importance of making space for playfulness, allowing my inner child to have a place in how I live.

Exp Year: 2024	ExpID: 119329
Gender: Male
Age at time of experience: 28
Published: Nov 25, 2025	Views: Not Supported
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Ketamine (31), MDMA (3) : Small Group (2-9) (17), Hangover / Days After (46), Combinations (3)