Citation: Anonymous. "A First Time Rollarcoaster Ride: An Experience with 25C-NBOMe (exp98412)". Erowid.org. Dec 25, 2012. erowid.org/exp/98412
||(blotter / tab)
So, I had a rather interesting experience this Saturday. Although I’d long heard about psychedelic substances, I had no experience with any of them other than DXM. That is, not until this weekend. Although 2C-C-NBOMe is considered to be ‘trip worthy’ at dosages as low as 400 µg, my blotters had 600 µg each and my friend recommended I try taking two at once for a total of 1.2 mg trip. This turned out to have maybe been a bit too much.
I stuck the two blotters into my mouth above my front two teeth against my gums at about 13:20. Out of curiosity, I licked the little squares before doing so, surprised to discover that they awful metallic taste. Luckily, it went away soon. After about ten minutes, my mouth felt a bit numb and I more or less forgot about the squares. The fun really started to begin around 14:00, after I’d began on a short walk. The world I was in began to soften, and walking felt more like blurring. Not anywhere near as bad as walking around on DXM. Although I was aware that my feet were making contact with the ground, I didn’t really feel much of a connection. Breathing became a little bit harder and I started sweating like crazy. Soon enough, I stopped being aware of these as well. As I looked around the neighborhood I’d been living in all my life, I felt as if I’d suddenly landed on an different planet. Houses were more like abandoned nests than anything, dead, forgotten, and alone. The sky above me was bright and vivid, seeming to stretch on forever and ever. I probably lost myself in the sky for a good twenty or thirty minutes as I sat on a bench, relaxing and enjoying the beauty.
As I continued to walk again, continuing on my exploration of the dead world around me, feeling like a ghost awoken in the rubble from a nuclear blast, I came across an inhabitant of this strange world. He was just a normal guy, walking across the street a block or two in front of me. But some part of my mind was able to get away from its fantastical, loving, beautiful aspect and I grew fearful. “Oh shit! I’m all drugging out, what if he’s a police officer who’s going to beat me up for doing drugs?” This kind of thinking wouldn’t make sense normally, but it does on drugs. “Be normal, be boring, be relaxed” I thought to myself, breathing slowly and walking on, eyes focused ahead. The more I concentrated on being boring and normal, the more color drained away from the world. Plants, the sky, cars, and houses all began to turn a bluish gray, and I started feeling cold. In my mind, I thought, “haha, it looks like winter’s come early this year!”
After I passed him, I began to grow convinced that he had called his secret agents on me. Shadow people watched me from behind closed curtains in the houses, seemed to hide behind cars, ran around behind me, and started to give off a sort of buzz or vibration. I never saw any of them, but the feeling was quite unnerving. I rushed the three or four blocks back home, fumbled with the locks, and hurried into my apartment. As I walked down the hallway and through my complex, I grew convinced that the darklings followed and hid themselves in my neighbor’s rooms and in the attic above me, out of sight but not out of mind. But in my room, with the shades drawn and lights on, I was safe.
In my haven, I decided to cool off a bit. Off came my shirt, and into the kitchen I went. The fridge opened itself and a glass of ice-cold orange juice found its way into my hands. Tired, I wandered over to my couch. The jug of juice seemed to follow me, appearing on a chair, then a table, then my dresser, the floor, and eventually settling down into the fridge. It was then that I began to notice the ways that the drug affected my sense of scale: earlier on the road, I was an epic hero who had crashlanded on an undiscovered Earth, and then I became a zombie that was resented and feared by its inhabitants. The alien sky above me was incredibly vast, and beneath it, I was just a speck of sand. The disturbances became more apparent in my home: at times, my home was comically undersized, and at others it was as large as a football stadium. Often, one of my hands would be many times large than the other.
My memory also was often affected, going into cycles of a beautiful, serene awe of the world and an intense fear and paranoia of things seen and unseen. Time would freeze or jump forward; when I could concentrate hard enough to read my watch, I was shocked by the amount of time that went by. Off and on would go my shirt, open and closed would go my blinds. Either my window would be the most fascinating, inspiring painting that had ever existed, or it was a window for Them to see into, track me, record me, and penetrate me. The whole time I was aware of the absurdity and non-reality of what I felt, but that didn’t stop me from feeling it all.
I got back home and settled down around 14:20 or 14:30. My mind was curious and restless, but I gradually began to calm myself and just relax on my couch. “If they see you, they’ll see you, and there’s nothing they can do. If the juice wants to move, it will. Let’s just relax,” some part of me said. I still was in awe by the strange changes in atmosphere I experienced, but my interaction with objects sharply decreased. I continued to feel alternations of love and fear, in cycles, but distancing myself from it made it all less stressful. Sometime after this, I found my way back to a mental toy I’d had earlier on my trip: colors!
The one thing which psychedelic drugs are most strongly linked to in pop culture and art, as far as I understand, are rainbows of colors. As I stared out at my window, the ‘feeling’ of blue began to flood my mind. And once I had a blue mind, my room began to turn blue tinted as well. It was as if someone took out my light bulbs and stuck in blue party lights or something. Like before, my room began to grow colder, and some part of me felt a bit blue. “It’s so dead in here, it should be green,” I thought, shortly before my room began to brighten, smell fresher, and feel more alive. When my room, my world, myself melted into green, I felt as if the strength of life were filling me again, and I felt good. “What’s yellow like?” and my room became happier and brighter. It was amazing! Red was very warm, and purple was kind of icky. My cycles of joy and fear soon joined the cycle of changing colors.
Transformation joined the blend too: I would grow, my room would grow, different things and parts of me would grow as well. As soon as size became a topic on my mind, the colors would seem to stop and size would change depending on my thoughts of big and small. I could only really focus my mind on one thing at a time, and for short periods of time before something else would creep in. At this point, peace and fear, the colors of the rainbow, the sizes of things, and the presence of other beings were all looping in their own cycles.
Some other things I did and had fun thinking about during my experience included taking a bath and staring in the mirror. The bathtub would comically change size and color. Red baths were warm, blue were cold, green was invigorating, and yellow were calming. The water level would rise and fall with my size — when I was big, the water was nearly all gone, but there was almost too much when I was small. My “being” mixed in much more smoothly with water than it did air.
When I would stare in the mirror, hair would grow in places, my eyes would move apart from each other and closer, my face would grow longer and shorter and wider and thinner. One eye could raise while the other lowered. After my face began to show an evil look and my face became that of a monsters, I felt I was done looking in the mirror for the night. One thing that wouldn’t change were the size of my pupils, always completely filling my eye, like miniature black holes.
My computer soon became a toy for me to play with after I’d calmed myself down, too. Chatting with others was a fun toy for my dumb mind. I typed a lot of strange things...
With the extreme senses of good and evil, cycles of life and death, cycles of colors and seasons and size, and the occasional spotting of fantasy creatures, I’m not surprised by the kinds of things that we can find in ancient folklore, particularly the stories of prophets and birth, and strange underworlds that had been revealed to early priests and shamans. The reason why these themes are so powerful as well as prevalent is because forgotten trips could be rediscovered. My theory is that this kinds of cycles were common with many storytellers. Fairies and ogres, the frightening states of mind that are heaven and hell, the importance of the gods and their chosen warriors (as well as their speakers, the religious explorers) could all have their root in psychedelic trips. And the cycles of life and death and the unseen, the unstoppable hand of force which comes from submission to the drug’s strength cannot be forgotten, either. Norwegian, Native American, Russian, and Asian folklore and mythology all have traces of psychedelia; I’ll write an article on this later, but you can find the symbols if you look.
I do not believe that I had a spiritual experience while I was having drug-induced visions and manias, though I did have an incredibly interesting day. The most extreme periods ended around 15:00 or 16:00, and the drug was completely gone by 20:00. Due to the effects on my levels of serotonin the drug had, I suffered a bit of insomnia during the night following my experience, but it thankfully gave me time to reflect on my experiences.
The drug was very cheap, less than a mug of tea at my favorite cafe. The experience was unique and very entertaining, if a bit frightening at times. However, I don’t think that I’ll be doing it again anytime soon. To fellow dexxers interested in taking 25c: stick with the robo!
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