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Sporadic Impulses
LSD & Cannabis
by NotImpressed
Citation:   NotImpressed. "Sporadic Impulses: An Experience with LSD & Cannabis (exp90477)". Erowid.org. Feb 10, 2012. erowid.org/exp/90477

 
DOSE:
1 hit sublingual LSD (blotter / tab)
    repeated smoked Cannabis (plant material)

BODY WEIGHT: 157 lb


I had been researching mostly on Erowid whether I should take acid for a long time. My friend M and I decided we would try it. We were on winter break from college, and had been texting during the first semester about trying it.

My dealer, T, went to my high school. Ironically, he now lived two minutes from the school. He was booted our sophomore year for selling weed, even though he wasn't a dealer. He just knew where to get it and did kids favors. When he was kicked out of school, he left home. On his own, he worked McDonalds jobs and the like. He sold weed on the side for extra money. Eventually he bought a warehouse which he now uses to launder drug money. He's a full-time dealer now pulling in around $50,000 a year. Not a bad deal, but I don't recommend being a dealer because he's constantly worried about being busted.

We went to T's house on December 22nd, 2010. He said he had some strong acid at the moment. We had been asking him questions about acid for a while, and he answered honestly. He said it's better than shrooms because you can control your emotions, while on shrooms you can't. I haven't tried shrooms so I can't vouch for this. T also said we should be in a safe environment while we try it, or we might have a bad trip. Perfect, my parents don't care about us smoking weed downstairs. They would just figure we were smoking, not doing acid.

T sold us the acid for $10 a tab. He wrapped it in tin foil and handed it to us saying, 'Enjoy, guys!'

We just chilled until my parents went to bed. It was around 10:00 pm. We figured we'd be up until 6 am before we were sober again.

M took it as soon as I told him my parents wouldn't be coming down again. I was hesitant. M said he would take it if I didn't. My brother, A, was our sitter. He also said he would take it if I didn't. Since M already ingested the tab, I told A he could have it. A had it in his hand, and I changed my mind. I grabbed it and said, 'I'm just gonna fucking do it.' I put it under my tongue. The only way to describe the taste is “chemical.” It could have been bleach on that tab and I wouldn’t have known the difference.

Twenty minutes went by, and the tab had almost dissolved in my mouth. I decided it was time to swallow it. M had taken his about ten minutes before I took mine, so he had swallowed about ten minutes before this. We kept expecting something to happen. Every so often we said things like, “What the fuck? Should we have done more than just one tab?”

About an hour in, colors started looking cool. I figured the entire experience would be something like this. A was sitting in the other room waiting for us to start tripping. We told him colors looked more vibrant, so he came in to sit with us. M had a purple winter hat with tassels coming off either side. We decided the hat was the coolest looking thing ever. The purple was so bright. Everything around the lamp next to me was bathed in yellow color. I liked this.

We were in the back room of my house, previously used for computers. Now there was just a piano and a computer desk. At one end is a space heater attached to the wall, since the room has less insulation than the rest of my house. We attribute this to the poor insulation job when we had the room added onto the house when I was about 5. M and I turned the heat up to around 85. We decided we would call the room “the warm room,” since the rest of the house felt incredibly cold to us at this time.
We went outside and smoked a couple bowls. We kept expecting things to happen, but they didn’t yet. This was maybe an hour and a half after we took the tabs, and we were disappointed we didn’t have visuals. We decided after we finished smoking the second bowl we would go to this neighborhood adjacent to mine, which we called the “light neighborhood.” At Christmastime, it’s tradition for everyone in that neighborhood to put up a ridiculous amount of Christmas lights. We thought they’d look cool. The weed/coming up on acid felt a bit like just being drunk and high at the same time, except without the lack of motor function.

A said that he would come with us to the light neighborhood. It was about a 7 minute walk through my neighborhood to the light neighborhood. We just talked about random shit the entire way there. Nothing felt much different except for the change in colors.
A new effect hit me as we were walking down the path. I felt like I was walking on sand, when in actuality we were walking on gravel. I didn’t enjoy it. There was snow all around the path, but not on the path. A lot of the snow had melted the day before and the day of our trip, so there was hardly any roads and paths.

We walked into the light neighborhood, and I decided the road under my feet felt like I was walking on brownies. It made me want a brownie pretty badly, but I decided it was just because of the weed. I don’t like to give in to munchies. I looked at the lights around me. They were pretty spectacular, but not as spectacular as I expected. They just looked a lot brighter than normal. I look back now and know that I wasn’t yet really affected by the LSD visually, but I started to get mental signs of a trip.
I had been through the light neighborhood a lot of times before, during all seasons. I came to the conclusion that there were three neighborhoods in this single place: one for winter (with the lights), one for summer, and one for fall/spring. Three dimensions existed in this one place for those three seasonal stimuli. I tried first explaining this to A, who brushed it off as bullshit. I then explained it to M, but he brushed it off since he hadn’t been in that neighborhood before. I decided to stand on a snow mound formed by a plow. I decided I was king of the three dimensions of that neighborhood. It felt incredible to be up there, but I got bored of it and got down.
We walked back, and I felt the brownies underneath my feet the entire way back. Every so often I actually believed that the road was really a brownie. It wasn’t a full trip effect, but I definitely knew I wasn’t normal.

When we got back, A went to bed. M and I decided to go into the warm room to wait. We watched youtube videos that were supposed to trip you out while on acid. It didn’t do much for us just yet. We just sat and talked. I decided to write things in a journal to see if they came out like the stereotypical acid writer would write them. They didn’t. At one point I wrote something about a chicken, and it seemed like a perfect sentence for around 10 seconds, at which point I realized it was utter jibberish.
M and I just sat and talked for a while. We were now three and a half hours in, by my estimation. All of a sudden, M just sat there wide eyed and said, “Whoah.” He paused. “It just hit me,” he said. I got a feeling in the pit of my stomach. Oh boy, here we fucking go. M was laughing. Hard. He looked like he was having a good time, so I threw on a pair of sweatpants I had set aside for comfort purposes, and waited anxiously. M stopped laughing and was just saying fucked up shit, which he thought was insightful. I sat there listening.

I was looking into the corner of the room, about midway up. All of a sudden, I saw a vision shift. The bright colors seemed to roll off my vision like a slideshow. Attached at the top of the frame of this slide of the slideshow, was a world of green and greenish-yellow. I watched as the semi-sober, bright-colored slide shifted down a little bit, revealing a little bit of the trip world, then back up a bit, then quickly down all the way. I was left with just the trip world. I said, “Whoah.” I paused for a second to take it in and told M, “Dude… everything is so fucking green. It’s strange.”
I looked at the notebook I was writing in before, and decided writing wasn’t what I wanted to do right now. I wanted to do something else. I kept trying to describe what I was feeling to M. I seemed to describe it in different ways, over and over again.

Every single way I described it seemed wrong to me. It was indescribable.

“Dude, this is weird.”
“My God, this is strange.”
“Wow, this is fucked up.”
“It’s so different.”
“Like, I can’t even describe it.”
“It’s weird.”

I kept repeating the words “weird, strange, fucked up, different, can’t describe it” in my description of what I was feeling. I couldn’t get what I wanted to say out of my mouth. The same words were echoing over and over again in my head. We’re now at about four and a half hours in. This is the point where I lost all time perception.
I felt my phone in my pocket. It was vibrating up against my leg. I decided my phone didn’t belong in my pocket at that certain moment in time. It was meant to be on the table. I put it on the table saying something along the lines of, “Now it’s where it belongs.” It one-hundred percent seemed like that was the most perfect place in the world for my phone right then.

M was saying random jibberish to me still. My brother couldn’t sleep, so he came down to check on us. When I told him I couldn’t understand what M was saying, he said he could understand him perfectly. I followed him into the kitchen, leaving M alone in the warm room. I kept telling A how “strange,” and all those other adjectives I had been listing in my head, the experience was. He kept saying he got the point, it’s weird and indescribable. He told me to go back to the warm room with M, because he was going to smoke a bowl to fall asleep, and didn’t want me bothering him. It made me feel like absolute shit. I was all conscious about how I was acting now. I told myself I was fine, that I was just high. I then went back to the warm room and joined M.
When I came back to M, I asked him if he was scared when he was alone. He said no.

Finally, I could understand him. The fact that he said he didn’t get lonely or scared when I was gone was a huge relief. We sat there, now both of us trying to describe to each other how we were feeling. He was coming up with analogies, and I was using those same adjectives as before. Every so often, I would get stumped on a word to use and just say, “It’s so… blah!” We must have been talking about how we were feeling for a few hours, because I don’t know where a lot of the night went.

M had his purple snow hat with tassels next to him. He decided it would make the world perfect if he put it on. I decided I needed to make something perfect, too. I saw my phone, and decided all would be perfect if I put it back in my pocket. It was alright, but not perfect. I told M I would be right back. I went into my room and plugged the charger into my phone. Now, THAT was perfect.

I went back downstairs and walked toward the warm room. I was looking at things all around me when I was walking back. I found out I could control things that I saw. I made certain objects in my house wavy, but I could only do it to one object at a time. I did it to the wall, and I decided I was done with making things wavy, because I didn’t like the way the walls looked. It wasn’t perfect. I needed perfection. Now I wanted to try “something else.” The words “something else” in my head didn’t seem like the right words to describe what I wanted to do. I needed to come up with “something specific.” The words “something specific” were the words that didn’t sound right, now. I kept thinking of the “correct” word to go after the word “something.” It irritated me, so I just stopped thinking about it, and decided to “distort” certain objects in my house. I looked at the kitchen table. I made the table stay static, and the room (along with everything in it except the table) was moving up and down. It was “cool.”
I put all of these in quotes, because they didn’t seem specific enough to me at the time to describe the thoughts I wanted to convey to myself. I was very “irritated.”
I went back to M in the warm room, who had his eyes closed. He said he was watching hallucinations. He liked it. I sat down in the green armchair I had been sitting in the entire time. It didn’t seem right to be sitting in it at this moment in time, so I stood up and sat on the footrest of the chair. That seemed right.

I looked at M. He was now looking at me with a quizzical look on his face. His purple hat on his head seemed new and different to me, so I told him. He said he loved that hat. I said I didn’t like it. He said I was just jealous. I didn’t like the way it rested on his head. The color was hurting my eyes. His face turned into something grotesque when he had that hat on. He refused to take it off. I was pleading for him to take it off. He decided he liked it on too much, and told me to chill out since I was just tripping. I still didn’t like that hat, or his face. He looked like a monster.
I sat back in the armchair to distract myself from this annoyance. I was scared when I looked at him. Instead, I looked at different objects in the room. It was like I’d never seen them before in my life. They were all so different. A grandfather clock we have in that room, which we have had since before I was born, looked unfamiliar. I decided to open up a compartment in the lower portion of it. It was empty, and it needed something in it. I took a plant off of the top of our piano and put it inside.

On a side note, my mom found it a few days later and thought I was playing a prank on her.

With the atmosphere of the room completely new to me, I decided we should go into the kitchen and look at things on the internet. On the way into the kitchen, I started trying to describe how I was feeling to M again. He completely agreed with me, and kept naming new adjectives, which I added to the wordbank in my head which held all the ways to describe it. When I thought of the wordbank, I saw an organized table. Each category of adjectives had a noun at the header. Words like “prosthetic limb, dragon arcade, and computer” were the nouns I had heading the adjectives. The last category had “I don’t know” for the header. There were no words in that category. It felt like a small success to me. It seemed like I was thinking about this for an eternity, but when I was done, I was still only halfway to my mom’s laptop in the kitchen.

We opened it up, and I typed in the password. The volume was all the way up, and the sound the computer played when it had loaded windows was “crazy.” M and I had a hard time finding the right words to describe it. On the table in my head, I moved “crazy” over to the column headed by “computer.”

We first decided to look up things about weed. We read weed stories on erowid. We then looked up how long you trip on LSD for. Websites in general said it could last from eight to fourteen hours. We decided we weren’t okay with that, since we would be tripping until noon the next day if the acid was as good as T told us it was. I didn’t want to face my parents while tripping, and I had to drive M home around 10 am that day.

We watched the music video for “Spiders” by System of a Down. The music video has a bunch of tentacles or something moving around underwater. We watched with crazy concentration. We kept telling each other we were scared. We couldn’t stop watching, and neither of us wanted to turn it off for reasons unknown. The emotion it made us feel was unbearably different from anything we’d ever felt before.

I listened to the music now, instead of just watching the video. The vocals sounded like background noise. The drums were speaking to me in a way I can’t describe. They were sending messages to me. I agreed with every message it told me. There wasn’t a real message you could put into words, it was just a mutually understood message between the drum beats and myself. I liked it. We decided to turn off the video because M was too scared to watch. I turned it off for him, since I was over being scared of the tentacles.

Now, my friend threw on a prank video to try to scare me, where something jumps out from the side. There was a car driving through a valley with calm music, then all of a sudden a figure popped out and screamed. I wasn’t scared at all. The strange looking, screaming person was just misunderstood and wanted attention. I couldn’t be scared of someone who wanted attention. He’s just a jerk. I told my friend this, and he agreed he wasn’t scared of it while tripping, even though he jumped when he was sober.

Next, we decided to watch trippy color pattern videos. M turned one on. The colors and patterns weren’t analyzed as visual by my brain. Instead, they gave me sensation all over my body. To my eyes, it just looked like a solid block of moving black and grey. To my body, it made me want to move. I told my friend I didn’t want to watch black and grey blocks moving around. He asked me what I was talking about, because they were color patterns moving around. I didn’t believe him, but after looking in the internet history the next day, I found out it actually was colors and patterns.

M decided he was hungry, so we got food. I think we had Cheez-Its. We sat on the couch and ate for a while. When I was chewing, I wasn’t myself. I went blind. I couldn’t feel anything except chewing. I had to close my eyes. When I chewed, the only part of me that existed was my mouth. I couldn’t taste using my tongue, it just turned into visuals of a lone mouth crunching on food. Then, I turned into that mouth. The only weird part was that I was watching from another part of the room, as the lone mouth crunched on food, suspended in thin air.

We put the food away and went back to the computer, where we turned on a new music video. I don’t remember what song or who it was by. About ten seconds into the song, I heard someone say, “Will? M…?” It was my mom. She was standing in the doorway. My friend said he had to use the bathroom, and left.

My mom asked, “Do you know what time it is?” I stood there with a blank stare. She was staying still, while the room shook violently. She said, “It’s 7 in the morning, go to bed!” I stood there staring blankly at her for what seemed like hours, but it must have been seconds.

I responded, “Okay.” She kept talking. I don’t know what she was saying. I was cutting her off in the middle of her sentences with constant, “Okay, okay, okay, okay, okay, okay.” Then she said goodnight, and went back up the stairs. I can’t believe she didn’t notice how fucked up I was.

I told M he could sleep anywhere in my house he wanted. He asked me if I wanted to chill in the basement with him, with the lights off. I said no, I wanted to go to bed. My bedroom seemed like the most perfect place to be. I walked up the dark staircase. I kept thinking I saw figures looking at me from the darkness. I was sure there was a woman in white, tattered clothes at the top of the stairs. I told myself I was only tripping, and she disappeared.

I went into the bathroom to wash my face. I didn’t like looking at myself in the mirror. Every detail was much more in-depth than it’s supposed to be. I washed my face. I had to close my eyes to do it, and in the process I turned into the water rushing over my face. Now, as water, I rushed across my face and down the drain. When I hit a certain point in the drain, I turned into a new handful of water which I (the real me) was collecting from the sink faucet. I stopped washing my face because I liked being human more than water. I dried my face off.

Now the world turned into the children’s books “I Spy.” I would tell myself I needed to find certain things listed at “the bottom of the page,” which was really a list I made for myself in my head. If I needed to find a wrench, it would just pop up in my field of vision. I liked this game, so I decided to try out “Where’s Waldo” next. When I “found” where Waldo was, a red and white hat and black glasses would appear on whatever object I decided was “Waldo.” I liked this game better than I Spy, but decided it was too childish for me.

I walked into my room and picked up my iPod, placing it on my nightstand. I was scared to lie down on my bed, out of fear that Waldo might pop up behind me, enraged I gave up on his game. I decided Waldo couldn’t hurt me. My reasoning for this was that he was always hiding. He’s just shy. He probably wants to be friends with me. I figured he was probably off crying somewhere over how I gave up on finding him. Waldo needs friends, too. In my head, I assured him that someone else would enjoy finding him later on. The world was now perfect.

I lay down on my bed. The blankets became a part of me. I liked it, but I was cold. Blankets shouldn’t have to be cold, so that people should be warm. I put a second blanket on top of the blanket I had fused with. The second blanket sent a message to me that it liked the cold better than the warmth. It was perfect.

Now I had to pee, so I got up and went back to the bathroom. I hadn’t even turned the lights in my room off yet, so I figured my parents wouldn’t be angry that I left my room for a minute. When I was peeing, my penis felt like just a tube with water rushing through it. It felt like it wasn’t mine. I didn’t like it. I’m a man, it should be mine. It’s attached to me. I turned out the bathroom lights and walked into the hallway. I turned around, and the bathroom looked old and run-down. I turned back toward my room, and then I walked in, closing the door behind me. I picked up my guitar and put it next to my bed in case I wanted to play later on.

I looked at the clock, but couldn’t read it with my eyes. The message traveled to my fingers. I put four fingers up on each hand to tell myself it was eight am. It was the only way I could understand the message the numbers on the clock wanted me to see.
I lay in bed again, and turned out the lights. I put my iPod headphones into my ears and closed my eyes, blankets over my face. I stopped feeling like a single person with the blankets. I was coming down.

Every song I listened to was different than I’d heard it before. Vocals were distorted and just seemed like a stupid way to communicate with the listener. Instead, I listened to the instruments. Depending on the song I was listening to, I was given either a positive or a negative message. Certain songs told me negative things, like that I needed to die eventually. I didn’t like that. Other songs told me I was going to change the world some day, or that I was perfect in every way. I loved listening to these songs. My favorite musical experience was the song Tentative, by System of a Down. The guitar was telling me things in the world needed to change. I closed my eyes and nodded my head, YES! The world DOES need to change in the way you’re describing. At other times I didn’t agree with how the guitar was telling me the world needed to change. I would shake my head, HELL NO! I would explain using telepathic signals to the song about why the world shouldn’t change in the way described. In the end, I won every argument against the guitar, and it agreed with my points.

I took out my iPod. I wasn’t tripping too badly anymore. There weren’t visuals anymore. I wasn’t melting into things I was touching anymore. My penis still felt like a tube, though. However, everything still looked new to me, and everything was still green or greenish-yellow.

I picked up my guitar and began playing. I changed my riffs until the guitar was speaking the message I wanted to convey. I decided to play songs I already knew. Solos I normally had trouble with were a breeze. I was incredible at playing guitar. The only problem was that when I started playing a song, ten minutes later I wanted to play a different song. I was being incredibly sporadic over it. I decided it was time to try to sleep.

I put my guitar away and got back into bed. I turned off the lights and closed my eyes. I had a strange feeling I can only describe as “metallic” in my stomach. I also tasted strangely. My mouth tasted like “stomach ache.” I now think that my sense of touch and sense of taste had been swapped. With my eyes closed, I had visuals like kaleidoscopes. I was bored of it, so I put my iPod back into my ears. Now I was ADD about the music I was listening to. I kept getting sick of a song a few seconds in. I kept thinking that I needed to do “something different.” Oh, God. Please not this again. The adjective thoughts continued through the rest of the trip. I constantly switched between playing guitar, going on my laptop, and listening to music. I kept thinking I would never get sober again. Eventually, 11 am I fell asleep. It was bright out, and birds were chirping. I was still tripping when I fell asleep.

I woke up, still a little high. M was standing over me. He said his mom called him, and he needed to go home. I rolled out of bed, grabbed my keys, and rushed into the garage, and into the car. When I opened doors or moved anything, I couldn’t really feel it in my arms. I knew I was doing it since I was 99% sober, but it just didn’t feel like I was. This was just afterglow, though. I didn’t trip again when I had woken up, and colors and everything were normal.

[Erowid Note: Driving while intoxicated, tripping, or extremely sleep deprived is dangerous and irresponsible because it endangers other people. Don't do it!]
Driving the car felt funny. I was sober, but the afterglow was definitely affecting me. When I pressed the pedal and the car moved, I couldn’t feel the acceleration. I felt absolutely fine driving, though. I was perfectly safe. I wouldn’t have driven if I wasn’t sober.

M and I talked about the trip on the way home. He said he loved it, and I didn’t know what to think.

It was definitely an eye-opening experience. I may even go as far as describing it as life-changing. It also changed my personality a bit. I’m a lot more sociable now. I don’t know whether it was a self-revelation from tripping that I was a normal individual and have nothing to worry about in social situations, but I definitely am a lot more outgoing now.

I had a very different experience from the norm on acid. I tried it once, and like I said before I ever took it in the first place, I will never try it again after this first experience.

Exp Year: 2010ExpID: 90477
Gender: Male 
Age at time of experience: 18 
Published: Feb 10, 2012Views: 14,662
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Cannabis (1), LSD (2) : Small Group (2-9) (17), First Times (2), General (1)

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