Citation: AP. "Peganum Problems: An Experience with Syrian Rue (exp25588)". Erowid.org. Aug 28, 2004. erowid.org/exp/25588
An extraction was performed with 20mg P. Harmala, boiled down to about a shots worth of brown liquid after boiling and filtering a number of times. I cooled it, certainly wasn’t looking forward to it, it was to be like a shot of bitter, sour mud. A half hour passed considering the vile ooze I would be ingesting, with no relief in sight. Finally I prepared, clearing my throat- it had to be spontaneous. I swallowed the substance without tasting it, chasing it with orange soda. This was not the first time I attempted to enjoy this substance on its own, and I have never been able to drink it without some amount of gagging. A few moments passed, waiting for the nausea, but, to my surprise, pushed through without hitch.
From here is an interesting story, about a gauge. In this case, Daytona racing, a video game, and motor skills. This game has been in my possession for many years, quite familiar and the source of a few fond psychedelic memories, particularly an evening spent staring for many hours, extraordinarily involved, as if I were experiencing the sensations of an actual racecar driver. I even entertained the notion of this state of mind being a reality, but certainly didn’t believe it. I began this journey by playing the game, normally, able to achieve high scores. No altered state of mind, no extra fascination. After ten minutes or so, the game became more difficult, wavering in and out of familiarity. I found myself having problems with game options, the normal start menu/pre-game screen, and my scores grew increasingly poor. Until, finally, the moment came when I was unable to operate the controller, let alone attend to the game itself, all of this somewhat suddenly. I was frustrated but aware, clearly shaken by my chemical disposition, though disappointed by my inability to push beyond the plant. Threw the control on the ground, turned off the television, and stood.
I felt like I should vomit, but didn’t have the urge. This is an odd feeling, specific to when I have recently taken an excess amount of some substance. Really, I wanted to vomit, begin the cleansing and preserve the event. It is around this point, still standing, in which it came to my attention that wanting to vomit should be as good as needing to vomit; perhaps I was grappling with the mental overcoming the physical. Or I was just plain sick. Nevertheless, I staggered to the toilet, opened it, kneeled, began to gag, and then proceeded to stick my pointer finger down my throat. To the threshold, the reflex, like pushing a button on your own body. And then it came, just in the nick of time.
Then next point can be described in detail, or it can be summarized into one basic thought. I remembered the physical feeling of getting sick after drinking too much. Drunk puke, we’ve all done it. I tried to have empathy for past experience, I was able to feel what it was like, vivid déjà vu; intentional. And this made me feel better: “You’ve been this sick!” Imagine being so ridiculously fucked up that the only thought capable of making you feel better is reference to a past experience of being almost as fucked up. Somehow, this rationale carried me through the height of the peak, about a half an hour or more.
After ‘la purga’ was an intensity never experienced. My senses were so overwhelming that I simply was unable to deal with them. I closed my eyes, laid still, radio off, yet the problems persisted. Even a brief opening of the eyes revealed a chaotic world, unable to concentrate, to the point that vision bounced around, beyond tracers. No real ability to perceive sight, plus no desire to attempt. This was certainly not comforting, I began to entertain the notion of a trip to the hospital, will I know if I’m too sick? What of my partner, passed out in the other bathroom, possibly sicker than I? This side issue helped, it gave me a moment to ‘think about something’, I took a time out from my pain.
Perhaps pain is not the word. I didn’t particularly hurt. The problem was with the nausea, the inability to end it, the dilemma of tainted senses. The spiral was different, more violent and disturbed, or it was the same spiral, with nausea as a sensation that could not be eliminated, amplifying it further, too deep. Either way it was unpleasant, to say the least.
After an hour of writhing, sweating, and heaving- the plateau, I decided- I passed out. In order to achieve this, I had to convince myself that I was just sleeping, to have no fear, to let go of my body like I do every night of the week. You see, there was a real fear of having overdosed, though I knew the compound to have no known level of toxicity, I could not conceive of this fact. Or of any fact, for that matter, I had no thought that exceeded five or ten seconds, at best. Random, brief psychological disruptions, paired with physical anguish. Passing out drunk, no different, I tried to grasp. This must have prevailed, some time later I came to, felt that the end was nearing, and sat up. Stood up. Bad idea. So, I waited.
One hour? Three? Six? I will never know the answer. There is no reference to time in my recollection, no moment of a glance at a clock, absolutely without temporal connection. I know I ‘woke up’, I had fallen asleep, realized I was done, and adapted to my surroundings. Normal. Peripheral tracers remained, but were easily shut out by superficial concentration. I even smoked more, hoping to keep hold of the tail end, draw out the final stages of an unhappy trip, with the intention of making light.
Ten thirty the next morning, I turn on the television. There is my game, still on, not paused. The time clock is still running, topped out at 99 minutes, 59 seconds, 99 split seconds. But the game is still going, I am in last place, my car is stopped and badly damaged, having collided with a wall. I had just been in an accident, before my world collapsed.
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