Conspiracy of Yellow
H.B. Woodrose
Citation:   J. Alfred Prufrock. "Conspiracy of Yellow: An Experience with H.B. Woodrose (exp70572)". Aug 7, 2013.

3 seeds oral H.B. Woodrose (seeds)
Dose: 3 oral H.B. Woodrose (seeds)
Duration: 12 hours
Previous experience: Marijuana (2x)
Age: 16

I obtained three H.B. Woodrose seeds from John (all names are changed), a friend who had tried three and had an incredible experience. I held onto them for several months, doing research and deciding whether or not I wanted to take them. Eventually, I decided that I was ready, and I chose a school day with an ideal schedule.

45 minutes into math class, I unwrapped the seeds, chewed them, took a sip of water, held the water and ground seeds in my mouth for a full minute, and swallowed. They tasted bitter and earthy. I tried not to think about what I was doing or what a poor decision I was making. When I swallowed the seeds, I felt as though I had doomed myself and that I had made an irrevocable decision. There was nothing to do but wait. Math continued for 20 minutes. History was next.

History went by slowly. I was mildly nauseous and mildly nervous. About midway through class, I felt a sharp pain in my stomach, as though someone had kicked me. It quickly went away. I was glad that I hadn’t had anything to eat and that I had drank so much tea and ginger ale. When class ended, I put on my headphones, played the Phish album Billy Breathes, and walked quickly to the library.

At the door of the library, I met Patrick, my closest friend. I was glad to see him and I immediately felt more comfortable. We went downstairs to a study room.

In the study room, I tired to explain how I felt, but I was very inarticulate. I was not feeling the effects yet, but it was clear that Patrick thought that I was, and I felt as though each little thing that I did was being scrutinized and attributed to the seeds. This was a feeling that lasted for the entire day. Patrick and I were planning on taking a public bus downtown after school ended, so we spent a while looking at maps and bus schedules. A few other friends of ours stopped by, which was very stressful. I did not want to talk to them.

For several minutes, I had been fixated on the window, probably because it was the most exciting thing in the room. I asked Patrick if the window was vibrating, and he said that it wasn’t. It felt so clichéd, asking a thing like that, which delighted me for some reason. I moved closer to the window and realized that it wasn’t vibrating. The leaves on the trees were quivering in the wind, but they were all moving in synch with each other in a mesmerizing pattern, and the movements were rippling forwards through the glass. It was a subtle visual, but it wasn’t like anything I had experienced before. I had fun experimenting with my glasses for a minute or two, putting them on and taking them back off.

Patrick had to go to class. He got up to leave, promising to check back in an hour. I got up as well because I wanted to go to the bathroom. As soon as we left the study room, the effects hit me full on. It was something about the change in setting. My head felt completely altered and I was completely high and euphoric and giddy. Each time I lifted up my foot to take a step, it felt as though the floor sank away beneath me, racing back up too meet the sole of my foot as it touched back down. I could not keep from grinning, and it seemed to me that I had a secret—that nobody around me at the carrels or in the chairs could possibly understand how I felt. I went upstairs into the bathroom and looked in the mirror. My pupils were large. Urinating felt bizarre — it felt as though the fluid was falling out of my body. I stood in the bathroom for several minutes, feeling slightly overwhelmed. I decided to venture outside into the fresh air.

The air felt wonderful against my skin. It was that time of spring when daffodils and forsythia are in bloom, but everything else is still barren. The green of the grass formed a sharp contrasted against the blue of the sky, interspersed with patches of yellow blossom. Several people I passed were wearing yellow, and it seemed to me as if there was a conspiracy of yellow. A teacher approached me and asked me if I was going to send her something that I had promised to complete. I said “yes” and quickly moved on. My face and neck began to feel warm, and I could tell that I was flushed. I walked into the “commons” area of my school, but it was overpoweringly loud and it seemed as though the faces on the posters on the walls were leering and smirking at me. I retreated back to the library, still feeling enormously happy and bizarrely altered.

When I returned to the study room, I found that the door was locked. I could still see my backpack through the window in the door. I walked to the library desk and calmly asked the librarian to unlock the room. I remember saying “it’s strange that the room is locked” several times, but the librarian didn’t seem to suspect anything.

I ate some crackers and fruit gushers. The food looked bizarre on the table and felt strange in my mouth. My face felt numb and tight.

Back in the study room, I put my head down on the table and listened to Speak To Me, first song on Dark Side of the Moon. It was more of an experience than a song — each moment seemed important. About 45 seconds in, I was interrupted by my friend Phoebe, who entered the room. I hadn’t yet seen her that day, and I was very happy that she was there. She was wearing a bright yellow coat and her hair was pulled back. I had never before seen someone so beautiful and perfect. Her beauty wasn’t entirely sexual, but it wasn’t purely aesthetic — It was really just an amplification and complexification of the attraction that I already felt towards her. There was an intense femininity about her. She smiled at me, and I felt as though the smile meant a lot, as though she had communicated all of her thoughts about the situation to me through her smile. I started telling her about my morning, but she was sort of freaked out by the whole thing. I looked into her eyes to compare our pupils. Hers were quite small. I felt as though she understood certain things about me better than anyone else did. I wanted to put my arms around her and kiss her. I was going to ask if I could, but then I realized that she probably wouldn’t want to. Under ordinary circumstances, my feelings towards Phoebe are quite confused, but in this state, it seemed as though the confusion was unnecessary, and that it would be easy to explain anything that I wanted. But then I realized that I couldn’t, that she wouldn’t take anything that I said seriously because I was altered. And I didn’t want to say anything that I would regret. After a few minutes, Phoebe left and I went back to Pink Floyd.

The first few songs of Dark Side seemed to stretch on into eternity. But after a few minutes, I turned off the music and went upstairs to look for John, the friend who gave me the seeds in the first place. I met him coming into the library. He was with Abby, his best friend, and I trusted her. The three of us went back to the study room together.

Patrick returned. I was thrilled to see him. Looking at him was comforting, and I felt as though I could see all of our memories together at once just by seeing him. My thoughts were racing, and I felt as though all of the situations around me were more multifaceted than I had ever realized, but I could think about things from many different angles at once.

This was the worst part of the day. Random people started coming into the small study room until it was crowded and loud. There were many people supporting me, which was a good feeling, but I also felt scrutinized, foolish, childish, and annoyed.

I left for English class.

English class. I arrived before the teacher. Lauren was waiting for me at our usual seats. We had talked the day before, so she knew my situation. She had agreed to help me get through class. She looked angelic. I sat down and looked into here eyes. Her pupils were much smaller than mine. “It’s going to be ok,” I told her. I went to the bathroom to look at myself in the mirror but forgot to look in the mirror. When I returned, the teacher still hadn’t arrived. Time seemed to drag on. The classroom barely felt real. Eventually, the teacher came in and class began. Lauren kept looking at me and smiling. Her hair was wavy and rippling and beautiful. I took the two rings she was wearing off of her hand and looked at them, thinking about them intensely. I felt as though I understood unfathomable truths about the nature of rings. I started focusing on my water bottle, looking through the water at my pencil. Light was wildly refracted, and the bottle seemed like a lens into non-reality. The tip of the pencil was bending and undulating, even when I touched it. I still felt crisp, clear, and euphoric. I made several comments during the class, all of which seemed brilliant. Later, I was told that they were barely coherent. By the end of class, I felt as though I had stayed up late into the night thinking about my life and had figured everything out. Not in a way that I could write down or explain, but in an abstract way that could only exist in my mind. When I closed my eyes it was still dark, but it was more easy than usual to imagine colors.

This is the only part of the day that I do not remember properly. Apparently, Lauren walked me to athletics because it was clear I wouldn’t have made it there on my own. She also reports that I asked her if she ever wore both of her rings on the same finger, and when she said yes, I told her that she was “so cool to do a thing like that.”

I remember being in the locker room with Patrick. He wanted me to go running with him, but I decided to stay inside and listen to music while walking slowly on the treadmill. I became very immersed in the music, and I could hear all of the instruments independently

School ended. Patrick and I walked off campus to the bus stop. The “altered” feeling had left my head. I felt very floaty and tranquil, and it seemed as though I was having the most wonderful day of my life. Each moment was a good moment. I felt lucked and blessed to live the life that I had. Sitting on the curb with Patrick, we had an introspective discussion about the experience that I had had. Our discussion lasted long into the bus ride. We got off and walked to a Middle Eastern restaurant where we ordered shawarma, tea, and Turkish delight. The food was incredibly good and I was very hungry. I felt completely relaxed, and I was not worried about work or anything else. When were finished, we tried to find a bus to take us back. When Patrick and I do things as a pair, I am usually the organizer and the mover. I get stressed out about little things and I always make sure that we know exactly where we are going and how we are getting there. Patrick just drifts along, happier and more chilled out. Unfortunately, we were both sort of drifting along at this point, so finding the right bus took ages. While we were waiting for the bus, I saw people from all different backgrounds and walks of life milling about and waiting with us, and the full range and structure of society seemed clearer than it ever had.

We arrived back at school. Patrick took a late bus home and I went to a lecture that I had to attend. I sat next to Phoebe and gave her the food that I bought her. Someone said that I was “such a good friend,” which made me feel very good. The lecture was dull, but I wasn’t bored. I took 4 pages of notes that turned out to be completely incoherent.

Phoebe’s mom came late to drive us home. I was very quiet in the car. I felt as though I was coming down from a marijuana high, except I felt much more clearheaded. I had a brief conversation about school with Phoebe and her mom.

Arrived home. The first thing my dad said was “you look sick and tired.” I took a warm shower, put on my most comfortable cloths, made tea and toast, sent a few emails, hugged my mom for a very long time, and went upstairs to sit in bed with my blankets drawn up around me and read one of my favorite books. Completely incapable of doing work.

Almost back to normal.

Fell asleep.

Exp Year: 2008ExpID: 70572
Gender: Male 
Age at time of experience: Not Given
Published: Aug 7, 2013Views: 14,669
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H.B. Woodrose (26) : First Times (2), School (35)

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