Citation: Wet Weasel. "Well and Truly Dipped: An Experience with 4-HO-DiPT HCl (ID 425)". Erowid.org. Jul 13, 2000. erowid.org/exp/425
||(powder / crystals)
These are my only slightly edited notes taken while on 4-HO-DiPT.
I had a sample of 4-HO-DiPT of known identity and purity. Butter-white fine crystals, 8.5 mg hydrochloride. I dissolved these in a small glass of Diet Coke and drank the mix down in one gulp. The beverage did a good job of moderating the somewhat nasty flavor of the drug. I’m kinda scared - I Did It Now. I’d had two previous brushes with this drug - the first time at perhaps 4.5 mg was awful - five hours of formless terror while my body felt All Wrong. The second time (10 mg) I had a cold, so perhaps the difficult nature of that experience had an excuse. This was try 3 at a dose chosen to push me past the unresolved terror state but still be manageable. In theory anyway. The striking feature of the 10mg event was its duration - in at 6pm one evening, and still quite intoxicated at 1am that morning, when a stout dose of alprazolam was used to get some rest. The day after that I was still off baseline for most of the morning!
I cleared my mind and asked whatever God was inclined to oblige to see to my safety. Okeydoke, here goes.
Poss first alert? “The feeling” in my lower gut along with barely perceptible pink&green in a white surface.
Mild somatic wave - definite alert. Doing chores. Still not +1.
Persistent Feeling in my lower gut. Pleasant. Hand on a cushion “breathes” a little. Smiling a lot. So far, so good! +1
Lying in bed. “Still going in!” Strong waves of ideation - somewhat disorienting. The feeling of having entered the Place frivolously, uninvited, can’t be shaken. “You really didn’t want to be here. But you’re here now for sure.”
Visual is near-normal - mild breathing of edges, maybe a bit of blue&gold in surfaces. I’m not completely coordinated.
“Even at this modest level, the experience is flatly indescribable to those who don’t know psychedelics. Hypnagogy is an inadequate surface metaphor.” When I move about, the body sensation can be quite pleasant. At other times, it flirts with an alarming “poisoned!” quality.
Still very much in a dual state, but maximum reached and repair under way? Very ambivalent. Would like to try this one deeper, but not alone.
I don’t acess anything animistic (the tree outside is and remains just a tree) or mystical/cosmic, and I have an inkling that the price of enduring the necessary dose would be quite high. Even now I’m yawning and shivering moderately.
It was a “false repair”. Still definitely +2. Waves of sensation/ideation - I’m riveted still in my bed, realizing that communicating the most basic blocks (“cognitive glyphs”) of the experience eludes. ... It’s like a panic anxiety that has been transfigured, “rendered OK”, into a feeling that alternates between disconcerting and occasionally beautiful - the barest hints of inner light unfolding Out. ... And the remarkable thing is that the Observer is intact to write this down in mundane language.
Went into a near panic when I Couldn’t Find the Toilet Paper. Reasoning ability is getting hit: spent some time staring at a box trying to decipher the writing into (slowly breathing) words, then spent some more time realizing that the words made a message that didn’t match the contents of the box. I can still pull it together, but it’s a real effort. No sign of effects subsiding.
I found the toilet paper - behind the (temporarily displaced!) toddler bed. Felt more profound relief than I really ought to have. I solemnly carried six rolls (two stacks of three) to their berth in the bathroom cabinet.
Checked Shulgin’s Plus Scale - this is still a +2, even though at times the rational mind/Observer is overwhelmed. My ego is just barely intact and continuous.
So far I’ve managed to decline a Valium. My mind understands that the anxiety (if it is even that!) is chemical and thus transitory, inconsequential. Bbbbut I’m still far off baseline. I am well and truly Dipped.
I’ve had a shower (washed the fight-or-flight funk from my armpits) and did some dishes. I am gently but unyieldingly pressured to realize that tryptamines aren’t for me. The Other is a damned good host - considering I barged in uninvited. But I must acknowledge that, having come to them so late in life, I have been guilty of romanticizing the psychedelics. They are not toys. They are not pleasure rides nor well-suited as discretionary intoxicants. I hope I have the courage and emotional memory-integrity to not come back without an invite or other extenuation.
I will trust myself to sweep up out front now. I’m starting to get hungry.
Internal dialog. Sensation of wisdom/great sadness. “So this is what it means to grow up.” Hope I can remember. Perhaps that is the internal tragedy of this whole class of compounds. A sense that knowledge is dispensed only for that interval when it cannot be used, i.e. denied when I’m sober again. I cannot remember the Basic Truth of this state when not in this state. And I am powerfully advised not to visit casually.
And yet there is tremendous peace in knowing that the underlying fabric of the cosmos abides, whether I Know or not, despite history and tyrannies and angry priests and entire generations sleepwalking. “Even they fit with their own beauty into the whole.” Gardan borders still breathing a little.
A migraine keeps nagging at my right temporal area. Drug body load seems diminished. Rational Observer seems better.
I walked to McD’s. My Observer took a big pie in the face when confronted with the reality of talking to a stranger. I used all my internal resurces “keeping it together” and maintaining an inconspicuous energy signature. I got through about half the meal at a table before packing up and going home seemed like a Really Good Idea. I ran into (neighbor) on the way back and really worked at normal conversation. I’m repairing, but with remarkable leisure. I wonder if duration and level of involvement isn’t more typical of the normative 4-HO-DMT experience. This is no “miniature” of psilocin, not in me anyway!
The process of receiving a sensory stimulus - checking the internal catalog - deciding it’s not a problem - relaxing - starting the startle-chech-relax cycle over abd over again is very tiring. What’s it been - five hours paying full fare?
Killed some time surfing the web. Still solidly +1. Body load (a “pushing” feeling in boweld and backs of thighs) is frankly annoying. The pleasure/learning part of this is over and I’m just paying the bills now. I still wouldn’t be comfy answering the phone.
Small residues of objects “breathing”, apparent 10 minutes ago, are now gone. Repair under way at last.
Or not? I set up the stereo, but I can’t seem to properly listen to the music. Still +1. Extraneous sounds are still not getting automatically processed and dismissed.
A wave of physical pleasure-feeling. So it’s not ALL bad. But my overall conclusion is becoming: On balance this is a difficult, demanding experience.
Consistently near but not at baseline now. I’m somewhat euphoric; I got through unharmed and with a story. Now to just try to remember that even this gentlest by reputation of the serious psychedelics. Is. Not. A. Toy. “You’ve been advised.”
Still not out of it. Waves of dislocation disabuse me from saying “it’s over”. I want baseline back. I’m very selective what I’m watching on TV. I have no tolerance for harsh vibes. Watching spiders mate was horrifying.
Very chilled - put a jacket on. Calling “all clear”; nearly ten hours. Short-acting, yuh right. DOB would probably kill me outright.
Twelve-hour mark. Still tailing. Trying to sleep is difficult, even after 30 mg temazepam. Am taking 5 mg Valium to simply disengage.
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