Citation: Blazed. "Wild Imagination and Dead Memory: An Experience with Tramadol & Cannabis (ID 20048)". Erowid.org. Apr 26, 2005. erowid.org/exp/20048
According to the time-a.nist.gov Internet time, I swallowed the 3 pills (150mg) at 12:02am. I figured Iíd enjoy myself as much as possible before New Years begins. New Years to me means new drugs, more drugs and better drugs with better deals. This isnít a fact by any means, but one can hope for the bestÖ call me an optimist.
12:14 Iím flushing, but I donít know whether itís from the pills, or itís my reaction to drugs (psychological). Nonetheless, Iím not experiencing anything important, so Iíll stand by Ďtill the fun begins.
12:49 I noticed slight dizziness. It wasnít overwhelming, but I could feel it. I couldnít get words outÖ my thoughts melted together and broke apart. I couldnít think the way I wanted to. I wasnít as sharp as I wanted to be. I couldnít control my thought-to-word processing mechanisms.
12:59 Walking is becoming problematic. Itís not like I canít keep balance, but it seems as if I canít maintain a proper forward/backward posture while moving forward, so this disturbs the experience of walking. I donít think it was tunnel vision, but is seemed like it as I walked down to the basement through a narrower hallway.
1:01 Thinking is becoming problematic. Things are getting interesting. Letís celebrate with a cigarette (nicotine).
1:06 Iím beginning to understand another effect of this drugÖ Iím more likely to be agitated. Where is the loathing coming from? I know thatís itís coming from the inside, but whatís causing it? Iím more relaxed, so it doesnít make any sense. It seems to be tinkering with my mood like a dose of Percocet.
Walked away from the computer to smoke a cig outside. Around 1:10, I realized that my memory was clouded. Nothing major, just a nuisance when I wanted to remember something that happened 20 minutes ago.
Once I lit up the cig, I was happy to find out that the taste of the tobacco remained the same, seeing as how hydrocodone and oxycodone tend to lessen the flavor and enjoyment of the cancer stick chemicals. [1:17, I stared off into space and enjoyed it for the first time.] 1:18, my imagination has begun to spin and wonder around, which makes me believe that this would be a good drug to visit the museum onÖ of course, it wouldnít compare to what LSD would do in that setting.
In fact, tramadol has actually made the cigs taste better. Either that or I simply enjoyed standing outside in the cold alone because that was entertaining enough. Now that I think about it, I really didnít want to walk back inside. I was having a good time looking into the darkness of the night.
This is a good drug. What makes it really good is the fact that the imagination gets to ďrun wild,Ē while I'm in a physically serene state and weaker (more like canít get the jar open, not sleepy) condition. Even if the imagination comes down to a lower level temporarily due to factors which contribute to involving entertainment like music (I move to it... I feel the beat, the flow, the art pounding on my eardrums), itís still a pleasant experience.
2:20 I feel like Iím wasting the experience by sitting and listening to music. Iíd rather do somethingÖ I think Iíd do 250mg next time. This (150) is still nothing of a dose. Itís a lot better than the 50, but also could be a lot betterÖ weed seems to improve every drugÖ hint, hint.
3:05 TOS (Time of smoke)
(The next of this report was typed the day after from the notes I took while being under the influence. I wasnít able to write much more after smoking the weed. Iíll mark the end of this sober writing by ď/End.Ē)
I took about 7 hits (I donít know for sure, I was too fucked up to remember what was going onÖ it is probably very close to that number)Ö each hit significantly increased my tramadol high, which took me by surprise. It was like I didnít have any tolerance for weed all of a sudden. I felt like if I had taken more hits, Iíd shut down all of my mental functions; the experience would be ruined because I would end up coming back inside the house, and Iíd go right to sleep. (The taste and smell of the weed, which was very strong, reminded me of the high-quality weed I have smoked in the past. It was a nice moment of dťjŗ vu.)
Once I got high, I realized that I wasnít thinking more/faster. I wrote, ďSame level of thought processes, but the mind works to grasp the speed of thoughts at a slower level. You canít grab and hold on to too much at all.Ē My imagination seemed to have elevated as well, but it only seemed like that to me because I was dumbed down by the painkillers. All in all, it seemed that my mind was working like I was sober, but my brain wasnít recording everything into memory.
After the few hits from the bowl, I smoked a cigarette and continued to stand outside. At one point, dizziness kicked in for a total of one second. It looked like a visual rotation to the left, like I was on a boat on water.
This is one of the most beautiful mental conditions I ever went through. It doesnít beat x, but it comes very, very, very close.
My thoughts continued to be bungled up and mixed like something in a blender.
Ages seemed like seconds. Time for me has reminded the same, while earth time sped up (thatís what it felt like). This goes back to what I said about my memory. It became dead, so I started living in the moment (like a fish). Whatever I was doing seemed like I have been doing for a very long time; however at the same time, earth time was passing by me very quickly. I wrote, ďMore is happening around me than I can understand.Ē
Past that, I let my mind wonderÖ and I started to think about cigarettes, since I was smoking at the time. I thought about how I quit twice in the past, but I continue to smoke still. I came to a conclusionÖ ďI love smoking cigarettes. Thatís the problem with the addiction. How can you deny love knowing that itís legal and comes in a pack of 20?Ē
ďI canít remember. Iím numb to the cold of the glass on a cold winter night. Unspeakable joy (not love) and inner excitement.Ē (Obviously, I couldnít physically express it. I could hardly move.) Thatís the opposite of x. I feel love, and I'm able to express it. Still, Iíd compare tramadol in combination with weed to it. Itís on par with that great feeling.
I feel more fucked up outside than when Iím inside. Inside, being the familiar environment where I swallow most of my pills and sniff most of my powders, I seem to have a higher tolerance, so Iím better able to deal with the drug effects.
Once I walked back inside, I experienced extreme at times dizziness, which in turn made me nauseous, as did the warmness from the heater. Apparently, the temperature change from the cold to the warm was too great to deal with; hence, the nausea was heightened enough for me to be uncomfortable.
ďDisorientation. Imagination: crazy. I canít stop writing. Iím out of control. My heart is racing, but I feel like passing out. I couldnít stop even if I wanted to, so Iíll keep writing. This type of writing is like freestyle. Things keep popping in, so I write them. Haha Iím loving it. I love this.Ē
Music, any kind, was beautiful. ďBeautifulĒ is a strong and all-encompassing general beauty (internal + external + spiritual), and Iím using it to describe the high and the music. X is beautiful too, but itís a different kind of beauty. Itís like picking which parent you love more. (If youíre thinking which parent youíd compare these two drugs to, x would be the mom and tramadol would be the dad.)
ďIím physically dead, but my imagination is breaking barriers of light.Ē
3:49 My eyes keep crossing if I stop moving them. Memory: dead. Inside: dead. Dead. Dead. Iím not numb like last time, but
[I actually didnít get to finish what I meant to type here. Itís obvious that I was too messed up.]
3:55 ďNumbnessĒ kicked in for a good few secondsÖ maybe 10-15. I enjoyed it. My legs felt like the conscious ability of ďcutting offĒ was occurring without my intervention. (I chose to use ďcutting offĒ to describe the ability that is most consciously noticeable and controllable in bed at night when I am falling asleep. I realize I can force a muscle reaction that makes me feel like my blood is rushing up my legs, because I've cut off circulationÖ like I'm making my legs numb from my knee to my feet, which could possibly tingle if I hold the muscle squeeze for a longer period of time.)
4:03 My body (skin) is itching, and scratching feels nice as well (hell).
4:25 Iíd say that weed is an enhancer, if ever asked whether weed is a drug or an herb. If asked whether I was a crackhead, I'd say, 'I'm a drug-head... name a drug, and I'd do it. I donít limit myself to crack.'
4:40 The last cigarette I smoked brought back some dizziness, slight nausea; and finally, imbalance hit. Now I feel like I need to pass out. Itís that time. Iím so fucked up that staying awake is a challenge; so therefore, itís unnecessary and unpleasant.
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