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Euphoria not Paranoia
Morning Glory Seeds
Citation:   Dancing Dan The Man. "Euphoria not Paranoia: An Experience with Morning Glory Seeds (exp14321)". Erowid.org. Feb 13, 2023. erowid.org/exp/14321

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DOSE:
50 seeds oral Morning Glory (seeds)
BODY WEIGHT: 55 kg
The first thing I heard about this drug, was these small brown seeds that Ivan had in little baggies. Each bag contained between 20 - 30 seeds, which I took orally and chewed into a paste, mixing with the saliva. I chewed for about two minutes and slowly swallowed. A tiny amount of nausea followed. It was like being pummeled from the inside by a tiny stomach goblin.

We (Ivan and myself) had the first slight buzz within 45 minutes, and a rising excitement/euphoria. Driving out to the back of Ballarat, we saw the moon rising in the sky, screaming unintelligible pronouns to the sky which reflected the chilly clear air. Constantly I was attacked by the flatsheep lying on the front of the bubblemobile, (Ivan’s combi truck), with furry teeth gnashing at my rave pants. The music was building into an interesting mix when as we rolled at increasing speed up and down along toxic native and introduced drug induced plant life that seemed to be beginning to take an effect and an interest in our trip. The lights of the bubblemobile dipped and swayed from red to orange as we pulled up to a strange, haunting and fog - tendrilled gate, inscribed with the disturbing image of a crucified and crescent pierced child and to the stray intelligently flying conversation between myself and Ivan. We cut the engine.

The silence flowed like treacle into the gap of the gap of the gap of the real time infusion, only to be startled by the symphonic resonances of the J-files, tonight only ladies and gentlefiends. One performance only all the way from the shores of the Nordic forests. It is my great pleasure to welcome all the folk heroes of the German alternative nation. Their fame is well deserved among the chosen few, and here it is, the moment you’ve all been waiting for, the symphony of the ultra real, the only trip worth taking, the supersonic jet -back ride.

We climbed the gates and made our way into the grounds of the compound of the Children of God, a large, forbidding and energy infested installation that reeked of a memory-full air. Feeling like our identities would be ripped up by large, dog demented raving imaginary superguards, we retreated to the bubblemobile, powering up the music, the machinery, and the motor-mouthing. Flying along at subwarp speeds, feeling the crackly potential of the night, we drove onto the military wasteland of the firing range. Craters and potholes filled that desolate landscape, as the road curved through the centre of past exhalations of military minds. We came upon a burned out datsun station wagon, the carcass rusted and broken and dead.

A flung battery, two wheels and some German national alien anthem remixes later, the bubblemobile swayed into a red dusty city of lost objects, and the air now felt like a blast from the past of mars, a hive energy of mysteriously silver imaginations from the court of the Crimson King. The road felt like it stretched forever into a curve of cosmically chronological dimensions, when suddenly, out of the horizon, came a cloud of what looked like a huge Main Rd. There was no going back, we would have to ride it out.

We decided to go for a walk in the woods with the teddy-bears. Little did we know that they would turn out to be much more efficient at ripping our gizzards out with teeth of fencing wire! Making our way into the darkened forest of government owned slaughter cow trees, Ivan fetched up against one only to discover that his touch had connected with a very pissed off at being woken up giant, tree-dwelling Victorian monsterpede, who proceeded to drop from his natural habitat to savagely maul Ivan’s foot. Crisis contained by means of the smell from Ivan’s bare foot, we continued to draw further into the forest, stopping to consider the egg-like intensity of the moon, sparkled occasionally by the wind-blown strands of a passing flying spider.

I decided to run for the safety of the quartz clearing, only to be confounded by the appearance of barbed wire bob, who reared up and whipped me with the savage tendrils of his razor rose, scoring me across the belly. Tom and Ivan fought off the foul fiend, who we realised later had been the evil twin of Bob the builder, and we slowly walked over to the rubbish heap of a previous victim of the monster, salvaging a decapitated wheel, who echoed his thanks back to us as he rolled away down the hill.

Some time later, we found ourselves at the entrance to the ill-fated mine of lost dreams. A twisted tree stood stark in the middle of the wildlands. A dead magpie hung limply from its branches by the beak, swinging gently in the icy breeze. Retreating from this scene of past tragedy, we regained the bubblemobile to return to our city in triumph in the midst of the all enveloping odour of the sewage guardians.

Only one other experience must I relate to you, my enthralled audience, is our encounter within the friendly and safety-blanketed confines of Coles. A young chappie who looked a bit the worse for wear was being arrested, molested and handcuffed by two brutish plastic-faced pig-fucking officers. With the strength of my earth embracing and natural safety zone I consciously recorded the event with my shutter eye, and then blew the fuckers to unreality kingdom come with my drug bugging you don’t exist in my world you silver lined bastards super-reality ray gun. I smoked those nasty nasty men and their machines on my way out to finally arrive back at the Infinite Possibility Castle, my home sweeeeeet home.

What more can I say except: LSA, the completely natural, beneficial ride on the back of a supersonic earth jet. Above average horta-fucking-culture. Also, be warned: for the next seven to eight hours, do not leave your homes ladies and gentlemen, do not entertain visitors, and do not answer the doorbell, as your mind will be in an extremely fragile state. Normality should be regained within sixteen hours after sleep. Appetite returns within 24 hours, and normal body functions will then be normal. Enjoy with preparation, a decent dosage and a mission in mind. Bon Appetit!

-Dancin Dan the Man, 25/04/02

Exp Year: 2002ExpID: 14321
Gender: Male 
Age at time of experience: Not Given
Published: Feb 13, 2023Views: 74
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Morning Glory (38) : General (1), First Times (2), Glowing Experiences (4), Music Discussion (22), Entities / Beings (37), Various (28)

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