Citation: Mithrandir. "The Mirror Game: An Experience with H.B. Woodrose (exp62977)". Erowid.org. Oct 1, 2007. erowid.org/exp/62977
This experience was most interesting to me as it was my first encounter with, what I consider to be, a strong psychedelic. Other than marijuana, which I don't really consider that psychedelic, I had only done Salvia Divinorum, which was a profound, yet short, experience. I was very much looking forward to an experience that lasted longer than 15 minutes.
The way that I came to obtain Hawaiian Woodrose seeds was rather unexpected, and completely unplanned. A friend of mine had purchased a pack of 50 from an online store, tried them a couple times, and decided he didn’t like them. I was also, at this time, beginning to develop an interest in LSD as an alternative to mushrooms, which were apparently out of season. So when my friend asked me if I was interested in purchasing the seeds from him, I figured that LSA as an alternative to my mushroom alternative was good enough.
Several nights after purchasing the beauties I concocted a tea consisting of 6 seeds ground to near oblivion sitting in some water, planning on using them for the weekend with my very best friend to look after me, just in case something went horribly wrong. Nothing like a good pal. However, being very late by the time I finished making the tea (and being that my late-night judgment is never sound), I came up with the brilliant idea of giving the seeds a little test run tomorrow at SCHOOL (quite possibly one of the worst settings imaginable…) with a slightly lower dose than what I already had brewing.
The night before, despite the fact of how tired I was, I began to adjust my mindset by telling myself to prepare for the worst but also to try my utmost to will it to be a positive experience. And that’s just what it came down to: a battle of will. Fortunately for me, my willpower seems to be exceptionally strong, because the first 4 hours of what would become 14 hours was a struggle indeed. Well, more like parts of the first 4 hours.
I was also a bit tired in the morning when I administered my dose, but I am a happy person and am used to functioning when I am tired. Not to mention I haven’t had an inkling of depression in years and years.
Okay, enough about me, let’s talk about my other me. I’ll try to remember as best I can.
Ate 4 Hawaiian Baby Woodrose seeds at 7.45am with some anxiety despite having bathed my mindset in positive, prepared thoughts. I ate a very minimal amount of food before eating the seeds (mostly light, watery stuff that would come up easily if my body needed to purge), but drank lots of water and some ginger tea in the morning. I feel that I can’t stress enough how important it is to ingest some form of nausea-reducing herb or medicine before eating the seeds. Ginger works but the taste seems a little odd in itself, at least to me anyway: kind of rooty and spicy. I kept having gross burps for about an hour after. Eating the seeds was like eating bitterness. There was no kind nuttiness to linger on, just an acerbic taste that stayed in my mouth for quite some time after. The first small bit of queasiness seemed to creep up as soon as the seeds hit my empty stomach.
For the past 60 minutes I had been dealing with a manageable amount of nausea. Oh, and by ‘manageable’ I mean enough so that I go to the bathroom on several occasions during first period, intensely look myself in my slightly dilated pupils, and repeat “You will not throw up,” 4-5 times. It did suck at first, but confronting myself in the mirror calmed me. This was probably the most physically trying part of my experience. I began to notice that my thoughts were slightly different, and came and went more quickly than usual. I tended to cast more reflection on very small things that I would normally take for granted, like the nice, organic shape of a cello or the nasty, rigid shape of a chair. Basically, anything that looked more ‘natural’ and ‘free’ felt better to look at, and received more positive thought from me. Anything that was geometric or represented ‘order’ tended to receive criticism and produced a negative feeling in my mind. I didn’t really discriminate what I was looking at, though: I felt everything deserved recognition. With a bit of disappointment I also noticed that I was not acting at all myself on a social level, yet still felt that I was definitely me. Conversation or any small remark of mine seemed to be very blunt and usually pointed out what probably was the painful truth (I say ‘probably’ because I don’t know if it actually would be the truth under normal circumstances or if I was just perceiving it as the truth). Not much of a body sensation other than the nausea, and no visuals to speak of (open- or closed-eyed).
Spreading My Roots
Fortunately, the nausea ceased by the end of first period, around 9.00am. I think it was because we were playing a familiar drum cadence that made me feel happy. Not euphoric happy, but happy. I was mostly glad that I wasn’t feeling as gross as I was before. At break my thoughts were lucid and free-flowing, but not racing at an uncomfortable speed. Now that the nausea had all but ended, I began to notice things. My head felt weird, like a very mild marijuana high, so it wasn’t too profound. Things appeared as if my vision’s brightness was turned up a notch, but a small notch at that. My friends noticed my pupils and asked me if I was high, but in response I told them I wasn’t high so much as ‘altered.’ Speech still came easily to me, but the way that I spoke was altered as well. I would tend to use more elaborate wording, for some reason. Also, certain things people said that I would typically regard as normal seemed somewhat silly (I would laugh at a few of these), and certain things that I would typically regard as odd subjects to talk about made sense. In a mental sense, logic and appreciation were just plain reversed. My physical sense had begun to change as well. Not so much a ‘sensation,’ but rather along the lines of thinking I was standing with my legs spread slightly farther apart than they really were, then looking down at my feet and commenting “Huh…that’s strange,” as I realized all was normal. I was listening to Ummagumma: Live by Pink Floyd, which is an incredible album in its own respects, and I began to notice as the break progressed that it became increasingly more difficult to focus on what people were saying when I was listening to the music. Off to next class.
Insight and Understanding
This class period is about the point in time where I came into contact with what I will call my first ‘loop,’ and also where the report becomes less of a record and more of a story. Sitting in my chair during the telecasted announcements (which I had an utter lack of care for), I would position my hands, almost subconsciously, in a contemplative manner that kind of resembled making a gun with my hands, with my two index fingers resting on my lips. I would be looking around at nothing in particular, because at this point everything seemed worthy of speculation, with a quiet smile on my lips. However, I seemed to have an especially keen interest in my fellow human beings. I felt that I had just realized how much depth there is beyond the surface personality that we usually become acquainted with in environments like work or school, and I felt sorry for my not being able to recognize that before. It seemed that I could see the goodness in everyone, and how hard they tried to hide it (if they did) didn’t make a difference. I could see humanity. My eyes, which I could now sense even without being able to see them, were black holes that could and did pierce through to the true meaning of anything. My friend, B, asked me if I was high, and I responded to him the same as I responded to my other friends: “I’m not high, I’m merely altered.” I told him about what I did, and he began to develop an interest in trying them. He verified my sense that my pupils were ‘freakin huge,’ and this is the point when I began to veritably cling to the phrase “…like black holes in the sky,” from the Pink Floyd song “Shine on You Crazy Diamond” (I think I’m going through a very ‘Floydian’ phase in my life). Fortunately we didn’t do much work in that period. In fact, I think I spent over three-quarters of the class-time chilling and reflecting on stuff. When the teacher was up at the front of the class I would try to avert my eyes to my desk whenever he looked in my general direction because, although I was ‘normal’ in the sense of the way I would act, I felt my pupils were a dead give-away that ‘something’s wrong with that kid.’
He gave the class a worksheet that I seemed to finish about half an hour before everyone else did. When I was working I had the understanding that much of the work we were doing required such basic knowledge that one didn’t even need to look in the book once to complete the entire worksheet, even though almost everyone else was poring through the textbook, I felt ‘smarter,’ in a sense, and I think that is one of the key reasons why people can fall into a psychological hole with mind-altering drugs. The drug will give them a sense that they are all of a sudden more knowledgeable, and that they have ‘expanded their mind.’ The keywords there are ‘are’ and ‘have’ because these people don’t come to the realization that they merely think they have expanded their minds. I feel very thankful that I can realize that the mind-altering experiences of drugs are finite, and although a person may gain insights from within the experience that he/she may apply to change how that person views life forever, they are merely evanescent experiences. I have friends who have actually tripped on acid and experienced ego death, but they have told me that their ego eventually finds its way back, no matter how permanently changed they feel.
I went to the bathroom on several occasions during the time when everyone else was working, because my bladder seemed to have an unusual amount of pressure on it. The first time, on my way to the bathroom I suddenly had the urge to spread out my arms and pretend I was soaring through the air. I began to experience more of these impulses as the experience progressed, and realized that it felt good to follow these impulses lest I feel repressed. Before I did this I looked around quickly to see if there was anyone around, but there wasn’t so I commenced my flight to the bathroom. In the bathroom I was examining my eyes for the first time in what seemed a very long time. The pupils took up the entire space of my eye but for 1/16th or 1/32nd of an inch of iris, and no matter how hard I tried to make the pupils contract in any way they simply would not, not even if I looked straight at a bright light. They would’ve been able to expand, I’m sure, if there was any more room for them to expand. I began to notice that lights and shapes would stay imprinted on my retina for an unusually long time if I blinked, and I say ‘if I blinked’ because just then I also noticed that I had the tendency to leave my eyes wide open and staring. I’m pretty sure I was grinning widely the whole time, saying intermittently things like “This is the best experience of my life!” and “Wow!” I then commenced peeing and found that despite the great pressure on my bladder not much came out, it felt gratifying nonetheless. Again, I had an impulse, but this time it was when I saw myself reflected in the black plastic of the paper-towel dispenser. The reflection looked akin to a funhouse mirror, and I wanted to bob up and down in front of it…so I did. On the way back I resisted flying, because I became conscious of the fact that there were classrooms with windows facing inside, but I still felt like I was floating more than walking, it seemed too liquid. Sometimes I would catch myself smiling, just because, it seemed, and I made myself stop because I thought it might look suspiciously like I was on something to see me smiling like a loon.
The second trip to the bathroom was not too long after the first, but time seemed to take much longer than it actually did, that didn’t matter anymore, though. I had the same floaty feeling when I walked around, but no urge to fly. This excursion had more of a compulsive ‘I gotta check on myself,’ feel to it. In the bathroom, aside from peeing, I looked very closely into one of my pupils and I noticed that I could see a reflection of my reflection in the black pit of my eye. It scared me at first, but then I seemed to understand that I was trying to comprehend ‘depth:’ depth of character, spatial depth, emotional depth, just depth. I was fascinated by the mere idea of the infinite reflections within my eye, sort of like the Hall of Mirrors in the Palace of Versailles.
Back in the classroom there was more time to relax, so I listened to Ummagumma: Live again. I liked both Ummagumma albums normally, but I felt like this time that my appreciation of the music was magnified by my sense of understanding. After my experience with Hawaiian Woodrose seeds I would describe certain songs on the live album, if not all of them, as schizophrenic, but especially “Careful With That Axe, Eugene.” In my experience, though, I seemed capable of disassembling the schizophrenic randomness so I could appreciate every individual sound that passed into my ears, even if there were 30 contradicting sounds at once. Again, more depth has been added. To quote a line from Aldous Huxley’s The Doors of Perception on the schizophrenic nature of psychedelics: “most [users]…experience only the heavenly part of schizophrenia.” And although Huxley was referring to mescaline, I found this seemed appropriate in regards to any psychedelic. No visuals as of yet.
Paranoia and Confusion
Class ended and I was glad it was lunchtime: finally some time to relax and enjoy things! Wrong…so wrong… This is what I would refer to as my second ‘loop.’ On my way to lunch I had another impulse to put my arm around my friend B, but I felt it necessary to tell him first. He said it was OK, so I did, but only for a short while. Later, shortly after my experience ended, I had the realization that there were certain people who I was either in synch with, or out of synch with. In fact, looking back I would say there were only two people who I felt in synch with out of the entire school. One of them, B, seemed closer to my world. Oddly enough I found out later that he had tripped on mushrooms only several days ago. A coincidence? I think NOT! The other one was a very good friend of mine, BF, who felt good to be around just because I was so familiar with him. I’ll talk about that later on.
Anyway, about lunchtime. Our school has a commons for students to gather in when it’s time to eat, and the cacophonous sound of several hundred students talking can be pretty dang disconcerting for one who is under the spell of a psychedelic. I felt pretty good when I was with B, but soon after I left him things started sliding downhill. First of all, the noisy commons=not good. Second, every person that I sat with at lunch seemed to be out of synch with me, even the good friends that I normally sit with, like S. Third, I started to slip into the negative mind-frame that I was never going to return to my normal state of mind, and that I would still be like this by the time my mom picked me up from school (even though that was still about 3½ hours away). Not to mention that whenever I told S how terrified I was starting to feel, he would reply with something completely negative and/or sarcastic, either confirming my fears or joking about them. Most likely, he was just kidding around, that’s how he usually jokes, but at the moment I could not tell at all and it was freaking me out. I realized, then, how negative a person S really is, and how truly rare it is I ever hear something positive coming from him. He and I are still friends, though. At the time, however, his negativity seemed to grow into my mind. Fourth, time had no meaning. NO…FUCKING…MEANING! Do you know how scary that is?! To have something that is so regimented into our daily lives all of a sudden fly out the window is not a comfortable feeling, to say the very least. It’s not so much that I cared to know the time, but when you look at the clock, three hours pass, you look at the clock again only to find that two minutes have passed, then you look at the clock after ten minutes have gone by but in reality only one minute has passed, it’s…well, it’s really, really disorienting. Fifth, my thoughts were now racing faster than I could manage, and my speech was showing it. When I would talk to someone like S there were times when I would try to spend five seconds talking about five different subjects, which just came out as complete gibberish. And sixth, I realized I had an assignment to complete within the next twenty minutes before English class. Count ‘em, folks. That’s six different things that were going wrong on a total mind trip (I still haven’t had any visuals yet). I mean, I’ve heard of one thing totally wrecking a trip, but this is six. And aside from the things going wrong, I couldn’t feel my body anymore if I just sat there (if I touched something or myself, I would feel it again), and I was really twitchy. I simply couldn’t stop fidgeting with something, be it rubbing my face, legs, or arms, scratching my head, running my fingers through my hair (I did that a lot, which made my hair all frizzed out), or just constantly shifting my position. For a while I was telling S that I was seriously considering leaving school and running as fast and as far away from there as I could. I thank any god out there that I didn’t have any visual hallucinations at that time, otherwise it would have been completely out of my control. From about 11.05a.m. to 11.45a.m. I think I was teetering on the verge of a panic attack.
All of these factors were present before I started to get truly uncomfortable, but I think they started to grow when I didn’t have anything to distract myself with. Before my mental discomfort came about, I was trying to eat my lunch. And I say ‘trying’ because I don’t think I was physically capable of eating food without taking hours on end. It was like I forgot how to eat: I’d put a bite of sandwich in my mouth, chew it a bit, then it would fall out of my mouth a couple times before I could get it down my throat, it felt so weird. Food was pretty amusing, I must admit, especially the orange I had. I didn’t want to eat it, it just made me happy to look at it. One time, I placed my tongue on my sandwich merely so I could feel the texture, which was far more interesting than the taste or need to satisfy hunger (despite not having eaten at all throughout the day, I didn’t have much of an appetite).
Everything wasn’t going too well just by me sitting there, but when I realized that I had to finish my English assignment it got really bad. First of all, I couldn’t find it for a long time, partly because I would start looking for the paper I needed then forget what I was rummaging around in my backpack for, and subsequently messily shoved all the random stuff I pulled out back into my backpack. Then, after a couple seconds, I realized that I hadn’t gotten the paper I needed and I went back to rummaging around in my backpack until I remembered I put it in my English binder, like where I put all of my other English assignments. When I finally got the assignment and put everything back in its place, I realized I forgot a marker. So, I had to pull everything back out to get a marker. Confused much? When I attempted at highlighting the article I was supposed to have read, I would start out being extremely focused on the paper and highlight about four paragraphs worth of information in about four seconds. But then, all of a sudden, I would lose all focus and sort of stare blankly at my paper for some time. By the time I stopped spacing out, I would have forgotten what I was doing and would just be confused because there was this paper on my lap and a marker in my hand and would just then recall that I had been highlighting this article for English. So, I would continue, and then repeat the whole befuddled process all over again. I eventually stopped after trying to work for about fifteen minutes, because I finally figured it out that I was only making it hard on myself: I simply was unable to work at all.
I needed to go to the bathroom again, there was still an unusual pressure on my bladder. On my way to the bathroom I was muttering to myself the lyrics “…like black holes in the sky,” and I met my other ‘in synch’ friend, BF. He said some trivial little things like ‘Look at this kid! You’re so out of it!’ And I looked at him, still feeling terrified that I would never return to my right frame of mind, that I would be mentally stuck outside of myself forever, and said, ‘I need help.’ He then got a little more serious and suggested he could play his banjo. That sounded like the best idea in the world to me at the time…but I had to pee first. So I did. Then I looked at myself in the mirror. As terrified as I felt, looking in the mirror calmed me somehow, just as it had before when I felt sick. I looked cracked out, though: my hair was all frazzled, my eyes were wide and staring (but not bloodshot at all), my skin had a red, flushed color like I had a fever, and, to top it all off, I was wearing a tie-dye shirt. I saw myself in the black, plastic paper-towel dispenser again, and that cheered me up some. Hearing my friend plunking on his banjo stilled my mind like no other, and I needed it. I didn’t care if he had only been playing banjo since that morning (which is true) and wasn’t very good yet. It was music, and that was what I needed the most. I tell him my thoughts about running off, and he agrees that that’s what he would be thinking too, but not to do it. I consented. Seeing him really brought some of my sanity back. Also, getting away from the loud commons room was a good thing. He said that it was time to go to class, so we went our separate ways.
I head to English class, totally freaking out about the assignment I didn’t do. Walking into class, I kept my head lowered for the most part because I was completely paranoid that anyone who would see my eyes would know that I was tripping hardcore: they were still terrified, unblinking, and dilated to the max. I took my seat, mostly keeping my eyes downcast, but every now and again casting furtive glances around me to see if people were staring. Class began, the teacher went in front of the class and began explaining about something which I could completely not understand: I was on a totally different mental plane. Still keeping my eyes on my desk and open binder (to make it look like I knew what I was doing), I saw the color yellow which, for some reason, made me think I was back in sixth grade and felt guilty for not doing an assignment I easily could have completed. The part about the assignment was true at the time, but somehow the color yellow took me back to another time in my life. The air I was breathing felt like a soothing liquid entering my lungs. I became even more confused when I looked up to see I was still in tenth grade English class, and my teacher was still talking nonsense (for all I was concerned).
Then, through my desire to get the hell out of school, I devised a brilliant idea: I would excuse myself as feeling sick, have my drug-un-savvy dad pick me up from school, fake-sick my way through the drive home, then do what I please (though so as not to arouse parental suspicion) once I get home. GENIUS! I got up while my teacher was busy babbling away and approached the student teacher. Step 1: put on sickly face (not hard in my state of mind), Step 2: “Uhh…I’m..not…feeling too well…I need to call home…,” Step 3: call home, make sure to sound sick and explain the symptoms (yes, nausea and stomach ache sounds wonderful…), Step 4: excuse self from class, receiving all-powerful Green Slip from teacher, Step 5: leave class and wander aimlessly until dad comes, brandish Green Slip like it was your towel (always know where your towel is…).
So I left very shortly after class started, in said fashion, and wandered around with said Almighty Green Slip (I could pretty much go anywhere with that thing). I eventually made my way to yet another bathroom (our school has four, not including locker-rooms). I looked in the mirror and felt relieved, yet still entirely out of place in my understanding of everyday life, but, I had it all together. I took a deep breath of satisfaction, and my tie-dye shirt breathed with me. *Gasp*! My first visual! No, it was not merely because of my chest rising and falling (in reality that probably was the case: my state of mind just distorted it), but rather that the shirt drew breath on its own accord although in unison with my breath. I continued to breathe deeply and watch my shirt breathe, when I noticed that all of my surroundings had subtly begun to respire as well. Breathe in, everything expands. Breathe out, everything softly returns to normal.
Leaving the bathroom, I enjoyed this new aspect of my trip when, on my way to wait in the library, I met B again! How marvelous! I spoke with him, still quite capable of speaking (although in a clearly altered fashion), and told him of all the wonderful things that were happening to me, trying to describe the breathing and…now the walls were moving! Oh joy! The walls are moving! Since I have gotten in trouble (pot-related, comes long after this experience), I have related things that I have seen in my psychedelic experiences to my mom, and she feels that she would not be able to handle things like objects breathing and walls shifting shapes. On the contrary, it brought me great joy to embrace anything out of the ordinary, as has been the case with my ingestion of all psychoactive substances. Hell, I’ve even found that embracing the paranoia that comes with marijuana actually settles me down and helps make me feel less paranoid: in general, running from things that come up during altered states of mind usually will make that thing worse. The only way to deal with it is to go with the flow.
By the way, as soon as I got out of class I put on my headphones and tuned in to Pink Floyd’s Ummagumma: Studio album. One might think, “Hm. Sounds like that’d be rather ‘unsettling,’ to say the least.” Not so. While Ummagumma: Studio is quite disturbing and twisted in more than one way, I experienced it all together, taking the pleasant with the unsettling as part of the whole journey.
In the library, as I sat quietly at an empty table with my head resting on my arms, watching the room breathe around me, I began prepping myself on how I would enter my dad’s car without appearing totally out of it. Part of this process included making sure I could fake sickness: I would think to myself (in practice), “*groan* I feel sick…” Although I convinced myself thoroughly that I could, indeed, appear convincingly sick, doing this made me start thinking that I actually was sick. I immediately dismissed that idea, but somehow it continued to linger for awhile as a shadow of doubt: “Am I really alright?”
I had started ignoring time altogether, for I knew that if I didn’t my seemingly steadying world would stop pretending to make sense. Nevertheless, I kept an eye on the clock to be certain time didn’t trick me and make me miss my ride out of there (can’t trust time…after all, it’s not on your side).
My dad finally arrived and I felt so relieved yet freaked out at the same time. I was gettin’ the hell out of Dodge.
On the Road Again
The ride home turned out to be much less taxing than I had imagined it would be: I kept my eyes downcast getting into the car, and, once inside, immediately assumed a position that clearly said “I have a bad stomach ache,” in hopes my dad wouldn’t bug me much. It worked perfectly. We exchanged a few customary words, which was rather easy for me in spite of my twisted mind. Even though talking didn’t seem to be a problem, once the car got moving, and I lifted my eyes to look out the window, it became difficult for me to conceal my I’m-Tripping-and-Loving-It face with my Ugh-I’m-So-Sick face, on multiple occasions did I find myself having to wipe a loony, open-mouthed grin off (and hope to god my dad didn’t see it…).
In the outside world, things were sooo much better than inside a dingy, oppressing school. Trees were dancing (it was rather windy out), the lines on the road were a-zipping on by…and I was going home! I experienced a strange, yet not too disquieting, sensation while the car was moving. I kept thinking, “What a strange concept, these hulking chunks of tin-foil and gears that we have grown so accustomed to controlling with odd pedals and steering devices.” I decided to take a chance and voice this idea to my dad, he agreed, yes, it was a strange idea. We held a small, yet satisfying, conversation about the marvels of human advancement in technologies and evolution. It was so satisfying because it made me feel less isolated in my state of mind.
We get home and my dad recommends that I head up to my room and rest for a bit. Even though what I really wanted to do was to put some good music into my walkman and take a trek through nature, I said that sounded like a good idea. Honestly, it wasn’t nearly as bad as being stuck in school.
In my room, I crawled under my comforter, sweatshirt, jeans and all, put a lavender-scented eye-pillow over my eyes, and finished listening to Ummagumma: Studio. Without going into too much detail, this part of my trip felt very internalizing, and the music seemed to take me different places in my mind. Every now and then I would peek out from under the eye-pillow at my slightly cracked door to make sure my dad hadn’t snuck into my room and was staring at me, wondering why his son was in bed with all his clothes on, a nightshade on his face, and listening to music. Lights and images would stay imprinted on my retina longer, due to my still much dilated pupils. During this time I also re-experienced the whole “minutes/hours/days?” thing. I proceeded to listen to Ummagumma: Live again, and then Dark Side of the Moon until about 2.45-3pm. Dark Side didn’t actually feel like the choicest music to listen to in my state of mind: I likened it more to music for getting stoned rather than a philosophical state of trippage. If I held really still and focused on the music, it felt like my “aura” (?) was levitating about two feet above my body. Very mild kaleidoscopic CEV, and patterns in the music were always in “loops,” even when the pattern changed it was still all part of the same loop. It was good music for the comedown, though, as I was definitely coming down at this point and felt like my mind just wanted to drift, I had probably been slowly but surely coming down since I had gotten home at around 1.00pm. The comedown was very gradual, which made the transition back to reality easier.
“Stupid is as stupid does…”
Before and during Dark Side, I got a sign that reality was creeping back in: I became aware of my body once again, by noticing the feel of my lips, and how freakin’ hot and sweaty I was. I took off my pants and sweatshirt. Yeah…I was pretty damn sweaty. It felt like I had a fever, but not in an uncomfortable way.
When the album was over at around 3.00pm, I got out of bed. Reality was very real, but it took me quite some time to adjust to ordinary stuff. I felt very estranged from everyday activities like putting pants on, or drinking water, and would sometimes get a little confused in the midst of doing said activities. Checking in the bathroom mirror, my pupils were still rather dilated, but my iris had begun regaining ground. I felt confident enough to confront my parents, provided I kept the whole “I’m sick…” routine up.
I went downstairs, feeling very drained mentally and physically, and yet I somehow felt accomplished. Sitting down on the living room sofa, my body (although I was regaining my physical senses) felt rather numb. When I conversed with my parents, I imagine my talking sounded rather normal but slightly on the tired/sick side. I was golden.
I fix a Cup-o-Noodles, as per my mother’s loving suggestion, and head upstairs to watch a movie and take my tired mind off things. The concept of fork/noodles/Styrofoam cup seemed alien to me (after all, it really is…we’ve just gotten used to it, “consensus reality,” anyone?), but I didn’t belabor the thought. I knew right away which movie I was going to watch: Forrest Gump. I really feel like I can’t explain how that movie felt so right, but it just did. In a sense, I sort of felt like Forrest: a person with an apparently dim perception of consensus reality, yet perhaps with greater insight into life than any of the “normal” people. A brilliant movie.
Gauging by the size of my pupils and my estrangement to reality, I figure I fully came down from the experience at around 5.45pm, a good ten hours after eating the seeds. Of course there were still some lingering effects, most pronounced that evening and much less so the following days.
In the “Real” World
Since this experience, I have taken another dose of 6 seeds about three weeks after (the tea method was a dud, by the way…) and eaten 4.5g of Morning Glory seeds (an experience soon to be added to its respective vault). Both were worthwhile experiences, though not the most pleasant, but I won’t go into that so much.
For several months (usually ~2) after an experience, I find that certain things will trigger a mild flashback of sorts. The flashbacks aren’t mental at all, but purely visual. Oddly enough, the visuals I have experienced in flashbacks are often more intense than the visuals from the actual experience. Say, for example, I just finish jogging (a surefire way to precipitate residual effects within that two month timeframe): I walk down the driveway, and pause on the apron to just look around, objects and the ground are vividly rippling, especially if I space out at one spot for any length of time. This usually lasts for only several minutes.
On more than one occasion the color orange has triggered some response. I was reading a magazine and I saw a vibrant orange in an advertisement. I looked up, not feeling particularly strange at all, and notice that objects (mostly the furniture) seemed to be levitating several centimeters off the ground. This, too, lasts only a minute or so.
Sometimes when in the car, whether driving or not, I will get a strange sensation of having what’s in my vision stretch out, then suddenly click back to normal, only to start stretching out again. I can liken the sensation only to the effect from the Lord of the Rings movie, The Fellowship of the Ring, where Frodo and Sam have just run into Merry and Pippin and the latter three are avidly collecting mushrooms on the road (“stay off the main path…”), Frodo looks down the road, seems to get a queer sensation, and then the road starts to stretch out in a disquieting fashion. The only difference with what happens in my vision is that the sensation is recurring. This lasts a very finite amount of time, usually a minute or less.
All in all, the aftereffects, while notably there, do not seem debilitating in any way and are all but gone within three months. I can carry out ordinary, even complex tasks with no trouble at all.
Many people report nausea with the ingestion of such entheogens as H.B. woodrose and Morning Glory seeds. Personally, the worst nausea I’ve had came with my first time taking H.B. woodrose, and it seemed to be less pronounced with each experience. I have never vomited the stuff up, during or after the experience, I have had strange bowel movements the day after, though. Along with slight nausea and stomach discomfort, I have also experienced slight cramps or pains in my hamstrings, congested sinuses, and a funny spinal sensation (with Morning Glories).
I cannot stress how important I feel it is to start at a much lower dose than you think you need, and, in the case of these seeds, how much of a difference one little seed can make, the difference between a 4 seed experience and a 6 seed experience is immense. Good stuff, though. And, besides, it’s legal.
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