Citation: Zen Priest. "The Tabbyman Can: An Experience with Salvia divinorum (25x extract and tincture) (exp64089)". Erowid.org. Jul 1, 2007. erowid.org/exp/64089
“Little sally-D sits at the right of DMT 100 times old LSD…”
This is my 3rd experience report, and for me quite a surprise as I thought I’d said and seen all there is to in the ways of Salvia reading back on my “Hellraiser Leaf”(57297) and “My Sitter was a Rope”(60167)…Oh…what humility we are shown in the face of our supposed comprehension with what is safe and familiar. I am writing this quickly, not having slept at all since yesterday. If nothing else, I am writing this for myself, for I fear that if I wait until tomorrow, from past, regretful experience over half of it will not even be a memory, and this was one journey I never want to forget.
Background and Quick Summary
I have two Masters Degrees and am a (fully Ordained) Rinzai Zen Buddhist, with over 20 years experience in various forms of Eastern and Vipassana meditation. Previous to Salvia, in my youth I’ve had more than my share of LSD and Shrooms, and not enough of my share of DMT...
For almost the past year (seems like 10) I have had extensive, exclusive experience with every form and strength of Salvia divinorum, “Tincture” being my favorite. Apart from that for the last 2 months I have been a member and daily contributor to a very popular on-line salvia discussion forum. Through this forums continued raves, and at the behest of a good friend as to the “special” power of one particular brand of Salvia (25x strength), I decided to give it a go, it being “so ‘Amazing’.
Notwithstanding the fact I have already stockpiled over 27 grams of 5 and 10x, almost 15 ounces left of Hawaiian/Oaxacan/Bali leaf and 4 bottles of tincture (Do I really need more...he says I gotta try this so...) As you can all surmise, I am a true believer in piling up for the coming Schedulization.
My Somewhat Unique ‘Set and Setting’
Crazy as it all sounds, my ideal spot for partaking of smoked Salvia is in a secluded stretch of woods off a major Boston interstate. I am – believe it or not – only 15 yards from a connector road busy with runners and early morning traffic mergings. Behind and below me (past the chain-link fence I use to tie myself securely to) at a drop of about 50 yards lies the always deafening expressway - So noisy, in fact, that the fear of being heard by anyone if things turned sour never, ever crossed my mind as a matter of major concern.
Since my last post (“My Sitter was a Rope”) I have continued to tie myself up in this manner so as to keep my apprehensions at bay that I might black out and wander in and about traffic or bump into runners, early morning dog walkers and the like in the event of a major trip “mishap”. This has never happened, and at the end of every experience – amnesia or not – I had always been somewhat embarrassed and castigating toward myself. Nevertheless I am deathly afraid of losing control and walking around, breaking things and causing generalized mayhem with smoked Salvia, And hence I never smoke in my house (always, always populated with no peace whatsoever) and find myself confined to the woods (“confined”… yes, that is the proper wording).
(“You must be the only idiot who ever even thought to do this... no wonder Lady Salvia hasn’t punished you demonstrating this continued, fearful disrespect- she’s probably still laughing too hard at this entire dim-wit display”).
Expectant, but Somewhat Weary
The day had arrived – yesterday – It was 95o in Boston already at 9:00 in the morning as I exited my car towards the woodland exit with my trusty SallyPack” backpack: “Deep Woods” OFF mosquito spray, ice-twist bong, wind-proof torch lighter, a Gatorade bottle of (rapidly melting) ice slivers, wax earplugs (more about these later!), and last but never least the exact same yellow plastic rope I’d first used in my mother’s basement experience. It now had more than sentimental value, and whenever I had to cut it, rather than buy a new one I would just mend it with re-knots. (If there is ever a “Salvia Museum”, trust me, I will see that this item be framed and mounted in a glass case.)
There I was, entering the woods looking like any hiker stopping to take a discreet piss. 2 minutes later I am un-comfortably sitting against the chained fence, loosely but securely fastened with almost 20 rotations of rope around my midsection. I take out a large pinch of Bali plain leaf and burned it on a stack of 5 polished stones I had put together when I started coming here in early March – a personal offering to the spirit of the plant that I truly believe resides within its leaves, and whose power I now more than respect. (I have never smoked Bali Salvia – preferring to reserve its use solely as a respectful offering).
And I return...again and ever again, reverence and unadulterated awe far surpassing my ever-present apprehensions.
I am wearing a long-sleeved denim shirt (!?) so I don’t get totally and unwearyingly eaten alive by mosquitoes. The downside? It is a fucking oven in here! Some bozo on **** was telling me how my “core temperature” during salvia was actually a degree or 2 colder which makes the external body think it needs to sweat and is hotter. This as there was a study done (who thinks of these studies!?) using rectal thermometers.
Well, baring the fact that there was no thermometer up my ass it is so fucking hot now I’m sure to lose 15 lbs. or more of water weight by the time and if I ever reach it back to my car at all!
So there I was – pouring. My hands dripping so bad I was afraid I’d wet the extract and it wouldn’t burn properly. I shoved the wax disks into my ears having lots of trouble this time doing so. Did not want to stay in my left ear for some reason (popped out 3 times before finally getting it adjusted - or so I thought). I didn’t want to spend a lot of time with what I mistakenly believed was a small detail as I would then grow increasingly anxious and make up some lame-ass excuse to once again leave and go home ever-the-Coward)
I adjust my bandanna, preferring (i.e., scared of) C.E.V. over O.E.V’s. ready to place it quickly over my eyes as soon as I hit the pipe and put it safely down to my left. I hunch forward, shifting into only a half-lotus position as I am constricted wearing jeans and need to stay as comfortable as possible – aside from the fact I am now melting into sludge.
I take out the last of a dropper of tincture and place just one drop under my tongue, more to mellow towards The LadyS rather than initiate any effect – for this is solely to (quote) “discover the amazing power of the 25x incense…”.The tinctures’ burning doesn’t even bother me at all anymore, I am so used to it – using it almost 5 days a week during morning meditational sits (“I am the Tincture Master”, yes I am..).
I wait for the familiar and now friendly humming and mild buzz, must have been 2 minutes when I reach over for the pre-packed bong.
(When I was preparing this at home... I took just 1 pinch.. I was told one pinch and put it ever so carefully on top of an 1/8 salvia leaf screen. Looked down at it...”Man...there’s nothing even there!” so not wanting to waste a whole trip risking my life in this fucking heat I picked up one more good (but very tiny, believe me, my friends!) pinch of the extract using just a tweezers head and added it in). I looked down at the little 10 gram baggie: I was told “There are about 350-500 trips in here...” That is so unbelievable. That is, if you Don’t Know Sally!
“And Why Aren’t You in School?”
Once last deep breath. I laugh out loud, not due to the tincture but I always picture the face of some poor vagrant stumbling across this whole image I momentarily present.
Or, God forbid… some cop (“Oh! Officer! This is very easy to explain…”).
One. Big. Lungfull.
Errr. Nothing. I mean… nothing at all.
Waiting. Boy I feel bad. Going to have to break this bad news to my buddy that…
I’ll take one more toke although I’m sure I cleared it all but the bong is nowhere.
There is distinct crackling of branches ahead. Shit I’m bagged. Finally bagged. Who…who other than me would think of coming in here! There isn’t even a place to stop your car near here and with a police post stating “No Stopping”!
It’s my youngest son, Chris. He’s walking toward me with this large thing under his arm and he seems ok. He’s 16, and already 6’1” tall… but right now he’s no bigger than maybe 3 feet and looks about 8 years old again but that’s ok, I love him so much.
“Chris, hey son, what’s going on!” (what is he thinking, seeing me like this I gotta hide that bong where the fuck did it GO!)
“Hey… why aren’t you in school? Oh!...Vacation? Where’s you mother and brother..” Everything is getting spinney and I suddenly feel nauseous and I’m getting scared for some reason I can’t pinpoint aside from the fact he’s gonna see that where-the-hell-did-it bong and think his Dear Old Dad is a closet drug addict..!
“Dad don’t yell…”
“I’m not yelling son, just really surpr… glad you’re here…SHIT!...”
He holds up this big covering to me he’d walked in with.
“Ma said it’s ok if you say we can…” he starts to cry, at first softly…
“What?! I’m not yelling at you Chris. What…wait I gotta think…I can’t seem to think” God I can’t take this heat, it’s blurring my vision I am in hell burning up in here!
“Can I keep him?” he pulls off this covering and it’s a black box, but translucent and I can see right through it and into Chris’s shirt. There looks like a black bird or Raven lying there… I can’t tell if it’s alive it just lays there, not breathing and it sends chills down my spine to look at it.
It’s so damned hot in here! Poor kid must be roasting that fucking bird looks evil Stop Crying!!! Everything is now spinning I want to just sit down I AM sitting I need to throwup.
Chris now starts to cry so loud he is screaming, and next he’ll have the cops in here!
(“Secluded spot /tied up adult / small panicked preteen child/ drugs involved…”)
Man I can just see the police report as they cart my ass away forever and forever…)
“You said! She said you said!!”
“What?!? Chris! Damnit gimme a minute I gotta think what… Chris stop! That bird your mother Jesus Buddha Anyone Help Me I don’t feel good. I wanna just leave. What am I doing in this place?” I start to cry with Chris I am in full white-knuckled panic he wants that fucking bird to come HOME with us (!?) but we …”
“You said you said I don’t love you anymore dad you promise!”
“Oh please. Please.” I cover my face with my hands, pressing so hard my eyes feel like they are going into my brain and my fingers are all sticky, now melting to my cheek…
Gotta get Chris home. I’ll never do what again? What am I doing here!? Where is this place?
How Did It Get So Crowded in Here?
“All aboard?” I ain’t fucking looking up.
But this wish is hopeless as there has now gotta be hundreds of people suddenly all around us. I can hear millions of excited voices all seeming to come at once into the left side of my head. There must be some parade of people gathered to witness this crying kid and stare at his asshole father who won’t let him take his sweet dead fucking devil-bird home
I know they’re there, my palms pressing tighter and tighter against my face. I want to curl up into a defensive fetal ball maybe they will go away but for some reason I can’t move… Please just go away… There must be a myriad of a zillion people screaming and laughing in my left ear.
(Salvia Alert! : The earplug had fell out …. Expressway traffic = World Order)
“All aboard!!! Last call and it’s you! You there yes you!”
I looked up.
Directly next to me, it’s massive rusted wheels shooting hot engine steam into my face is the most gargantuan locomotive I could ever have imagined. How it got into this nice little green treed spot I can’t imagine. I’m trying to remember how I got here and Where Is ‘Here’ but then remember Chris and Chris is nowhere to be found. He is gone (and so is that fucking bird).
“All aboard! Last call….we can’t wait all day!! ”
“Hey! Where is my son! Did you see him?... Little kid with a package under his arm.”
I look at him – this engineer – and why I know this in advance I don’t know but he is: The Tabbyman.
“Where’s my son!! What did you do with my son!!”
“Ho ho ho I am the Tabbyman yes I am…and I can! I can!!”
He towers even over the locomotive, leaning forward and down to give me a closer look. He has an alligators face, but his mouth is pushed in and he has no teeth. He would be petrifying if it wasn’t for the utterly ridiculous white and red French beret on his head.
“Where’s Chris! Is he on this….”
I look at the train. It stretches on forever, past the tree line beyond that fence and onto eternity. In every window there are faceless people frantically waiving at me to quickly board (or stay away…?). There all start banging on their windows and the windows start to bow outward., bending like stretched plastic. Some of the passengers are pressing their faces to the windows and blowing kisses at me through the glass with rubber faces.
“Hey!! Behave back there!!!”
The Tabbyman’s neck stretches out, turns and stretches back for miles… disappears as he looks consecutively in each and every window until all the passengers are silenced.
When his head “returns”, he looks at me nose-to-nose, but speaks to his minions aboard:
“You… are a terrible father!”
I can only stare. And then things are… “Salvia”…
“A terrible father and you can’t come with us!!”
He puffs up his chest and laughs the most obscene, screeching laughter I have ever heard,. His voice resonated with a painful, high-pitched timbre. My left ear cannot take the whirlwind: as now all the passengers follow suite in one sudden screech of approval. It is as if every God/Devil/Person/Animal who had ever vocalized every sound through every millennium that ever existed was doing it all at once and siphoning it into my left ear.
“Terrible father terrible father!”
I look up and all the vacant flesh-faces are waiving and laughing… And then there is my son Chris. He’s in two places at once and that’s the first time I stop and said: “My… that’s bizarre”. He is in a window all alone waving at me and still crying…. But the ‘Other’ Chris is holding hands with Mr. Engineer/ Tabbyman/ Crocodile face and he’s also waiving but waiving that damned caged bird at me bouncing it up and down with brat-like defiance and now even the bird is alive and up and cawing… And Chris screaming, “We’re going home now dad! The Tabbyman can the Tabbyman can the Tabbyman said we can we can we can!!!”
The Tabbyman has started the train and as it pulls away gives me a final look back.
“They won’t wait for you forever you know!” He bellows… and waved.
“Fuck this and fuck you!” I start laughing hysterically. Salvia! I suddenly realize I am on Salvia! That was soooooo fucked! I have never! never! I can’t take it I am laughing so hard… I don’t even mind that I am swimming … swimming in sweat…
I must have untied myself unknowingly as I started to walk circles around my spot. My head still reeling and the locomotive passing on in the distance. They are off on their journey and I can still almost imagine I see the caboose pull away along with Tabbyman, and all his ‘Jacob’s Ladder’ passengers and my son (and that cursed bird…).
I cannot wait to tell my friend(s) online about this…. Cause now that it’s finally over…
“It’s Never Over till The Fat Lady Sings”
“Cause now that it’s finally over…”
I walked directly out from the tree line, not bothering about my backpack and just happy to be with myself. I stop. Need to go back, collect my shit and clean up like the responsible person I always prided myself on being.
Man is it dark! Must be close to midnight it’s so friggin black out! I have never surged for so long before and I got out here no later than, what? .. .9:00am!
I start to hurry downhill, toward my car as now I’m starting to panic. I can come back tomorrow at 5:00 before work as now my wife and kids are probably climbing the walls with worry wondering where I have been all day and me with no cell. Damn!
I’m half running half sprinting, trying to catch my breath and I gotta stop. Lean over. Splitting headache but that’s happened before... when I rise it hits me:
What is wrong.
Not that its just dark out.
There’s “Nothing out”! No cars, sounds of traffic, no… the trees. The trees are dead still. I mean… still like they were plastic toys stuck in the ground. And I can barely see a yard’s distance in front of me. More so than this, I can’t see the end of the street… and by now I should be at a crosswalk, at a cul-de-sac of houses.. at my car!
I’m starting to freak. “Salvia” never crossing my mind once as The Train Journey is long since past. I feel like I’ve been tossed up and into the Twilight Zone.
Deep breath! One deep breath and I “Yelp” my panic making me chock and I start to hyperventilate as a new wave of sweat pours from my forehead into my eyes.
But then as soon as it started all is Ok! There, coming toward me are a series of duel lights… must be headlights from the backed-up traffic coming off the expressway. I just stand there… looking. Waiting.
The “cars” come right at me and pass… but there are no cars, just a series of perfectly coordinated lights that “whoosh” right by me with nothing at all trailing from behind. Before I even have time to wonder W.T.F. at this I hear what sounds like two bells ringing far above the top of the roadway. Two distinct tinklings from what I can now see clearly even in this blackness to be 2 bicyclists…
A man and woman perfectly in sync, both waving as they’re about to descend….
“Hey! … hi! Can you tell me…” What did I want them to tell me? (“Where is my car? Where is anything?..)
And damned if I don’t stop dead short as both are in period clothing, the woman with a flowered hat and the man in tails and stovetop, he shook trying to balance himself as both are on those old-time Bicycles with one massive wheel in front and what looks like only a training wheel in back.. The man looks like he’s about to lose his balance completely, but the woman just looks at me with a huge smile and keeps waving with one hand while dinging her tin bell with the other, her bike seeming to balance itself…
I’ve seen this before., but cannot for the life of me place it (or them).
They pass. Never looking behind at me but never lowering their waving arms or stopping those weird ‘Hellos’.
All of a sudden sound! Sound has commenced. But I realize it is one sound and one sound only. The sound that I can only describe as being exactly like that of slowly tearing a piece of paper down it’s middle.
Over. And over. Now there are no lights/ no 1800’s cyclists/ no traffic… only this black ink sky with me and this ripping. I stumble, waves of vertigo wash through me and I feel forward for the curb so I can sit as I can’t see a damned thing. I sit at the curb, pressing my palms over my ears to stop the cursed ripping and feel the dirt at my feet and I slide my feet back and forth off the curb. I look like some kid squatting to have himself a small tantrum.
“Stop stop stop!”
The curb (how can this be put into English?)… now “opens”…. It opens slowly in what looks like trembling waves. The curbstone would quiver and then be still, and then quiver again, each time growing thinner and thinner until parting like a flesh wound growing longer and wider with nothing beneath it but more blackness. And me sitting directly in its path.
“Last call! I can and I can I’m the Tabbyman…!” The voice boomed and came directly up at me from underneath the sutured sidewalk.
I did what anyone and everyone would do…I did not look down. I jumped up: ran! I ran like hell.
I knew my little 25x-perience was long since over… what was happening now was so real all I could rationalize was that it had somehow transposed my brain? Soul? Into a whole other dimension. “She” had finally decided: “I’ve had quite enough of this character… he’s done!”…
It made perfectly ridiculous sense to me to run back to where it all started, toward my once-favorite-now-feared spot… Why I thought this would provide refuge?
I charged up the slope of the hill, but the faster I ran the slower I seemed to go. I felt like I was running through molasses. What is fucking wrong with me I used to be an Ultra-Runner and ran faster than this and I wasn’t being chased by what(?!) back then!
The Period Woman is standing – alone now and bike-less - at the very entrance to my little alcove. Standing tall and gaunt, both her hands are clasped to her chest in an attitude of prayer and she places then both to her lips before pointing into my tree-lined entrance.
I start to slow down slightly (how could I even go any slower!!) growing not fearful at meeting her face to face but
“I can and I can I’m the Tabbyman!”
“HELLOOOoooo…. Better hurry!” She smiles. Oblivious. Serene. This regal woman has all the time in the world before her, and doesn’t even seem to care about the cartooned fiend gaining behind us…
“Hurry now… thaaaat’s it… It will be fiiiinnnne…Hurry now…”
“I can and I can I’m…”
Not to worry I’m coming Damnit!! I don’t even stop to let the poor thing through ahead of me I am so petrified and as I burst through the trees there is her friend… he too is not only now bike-less but is comfortably sitting in an overstuffed chair, reading a newspaper with his feet up on an ottoman smoking a curved pipe next to his fireplace, with his hat removed he looks grey and very old, exactly like that picture of the Old Fisherman that we have at home...
Fireplace? Isn’t it hot enough already in here but he seems so content…
This.. none of this… seems strange to me… I just want Mr. Tabbyman gone!
I run toward my fence, crashing through the low hanging brush to my seat-in-the-dirt. There’s some guy ahead of me at the fence who looks like he’s sleeping and he’s tied up.
“Move over fella! This was my spot!!
“Shhhhhh… Quiet now…” with barely a whisper Mr. Fireplace takes the pipe from his mouth and waves me down gently, I am plainly disturbing him making too much racket.
I crash to the ground and… Funny he was just here.. That guy in my seat has vanished and all are now gone.
All but me and Period Woman.
“Well… HELLOOOooo …”
Her hands. Her hands caress my face, fingers threading through my long, sweat-drenched hair, slowly moving to the back of my neck before moving up again rubbing across my face...
“There…. Safe at last…”
And the sky opened…. Luminous sunlight the brightness of which is unimagined burst through the trees, the yellows changing to silver and white sheens of shimmering glass that seemed to fractionate over the trees… and the trees! Like massive incandescent green fingers that reached up to the heavens with every slight breeze allowing me to bear witness… “Theeerrrreeee…. You can stay here with me…forever.”
Her face is touching mine, although I can’t make it out through all the blinding light.
With surprising strength she tears my shirt completely open and rubs across my chest before again caressing my face and it is the most maternally warm feeling I have ever remembered ever having. I had come home.
“We will always be here…”
“I can’t… I can’t…” I am so tired, I just want to sleep… “I want to but I can’t….”
“Forever… I will take care of you forever…”
“I… family… I want to… maybe just a little while…sleep…”
The Power of Incense
Keeping the details of my cleanup short…
I woke finally and sat there staring into my lap for at least a good 15 minutes before raising my head and still wondering if this time it was all finally over…
Aside from being a walking swimming pool I am inebriated to the point of just crumbling up and crying in veneration and reverence to The Lady Leaf.
I have never had a more visually vivid trip on Her compared to this!
Literally throwing all my shit together I bolt off to my car. Crashing through the clearing of woods and unto the road my pack is half opened, my hair wild and I am covered in grass stains, leaves, and dirt. Cars slow as they pass (“Mommy… what’s THAT!?”) If a trooper pulled up he would definitely think of a question or two.
All I need for completion is a shopping cart and a few plastic garbage bags and I would be welcomed into the Legion of the Homeless with opened arms.
Spotting my car I start to jog toward it while patting myself down hurriedly, my favorite 90$ Bole sunglasses are gone, as is every button on my now flapped open shirt and I could give less of a shit I am ecstatic!
I am awash with a Salvia Afterglow the likes of which I’ve never had in the past.
I am weightless, satiated with happiness and floating on Cloud 19!!
Finally at home I exit my car and look over at my concrete Garden Buddha:
All stone and serene…Why can’t I ever be more like him and just calm down. I’m gonna just burn myself out one day. Spontaneous Physical Combustion…
Through my basement entrance there is no Chris to be seen…he is usually immovable in front of his Xbox…killing street thugs by the thousands so we can all live safely.
“Chris! Come give your Dad a big hug!!”, but he’s out. (Probably still on the train with Tabby).
And for once my house is deserted. A second miracle.
I went upstairs to the kitchen. It has started… the shaking. The nervous excitement that I have to get this one down as I will not sleep till I do. This numb exhilaration… I feel like I just had 5Vicodin all at once. Starting the first of many pots of coffee and before my hands can’t stop trembling I go into my safe to take out the baggie for just one more look before I finally sit down.
Twenty-five “x”…. (“Incense”. “not for consumption…”)
10 grams looks so… little. I finger the tiny pieces of salvia through the plastic, noticing there is one, single, solitary piece stuck in the folds of the plastic zip-lock.
“There… that alone… is probably a Level ‘4’”
Being a day late sending this, I returned late yesterday afternoon for a proper cleanup and a quick sit-down (*with NO Salvia):
It dawned on me: This time there was no “Take Off/ Gravity Menace”… With this 25x it was like the immediate action of hitting a light switch…just bang!
I never did find my damned glasses, and…. At first, sitting there, I was unsure if I could ever come back again to this exact spot, that now I might have to search (weeks?) for another… It might take hours of meditation beforehand knowing what had previously transpired to just calm down the apprehension and nervous excitement. But then, maybe I’ll just do what should always be done: sit right down. Don’t think. Don’t think prepare quickly! And maybe next time do what I’m told and Get On That Train.
“They won’t wait for you forever you know!”
Peace and Safe Journeys. May the Goddess bless you All and keep you safe, Now and Forever.
COPYRIGHTS: All reports are copyright Erowid and you agree not to download or analyze the report data without contacting Erowid Center and receiving permission first.
Experience Reports are the writings and opinions of the individual authors who submit them.
Some of the activities described are dangerous and/or illegal and none are recommended by Erowid Center.