Citation: stockholm. "Gorgeous Visuals Among the Paranoia: An Experience with NBOMe Series (exp99466)". Erowid.org. Sep 19, 2013. erowid.org/exp/99466
I ended up accidentally taking a large dose of 25C-NBOMe, administered nasally so intensity was increased, then became totally incapacitated, and figured I was going insane and then would die. Talking to my roommate snapped me out of it, into some of the most beautiful visuals and artistic creativity I've ever experienced. When she left me alone, I figured that my brain cells were dying and I needed some serious prescription drugs immediately, so I ended up going to an emergency room and sitting quietly in a corner because all my vitals were fine. When I was finally released, it took my boyfriend several hours (even after I'd come down) to convince me that my brain cells were in fact fine, and my intense experience was not a dangerous overdose. My brain cells are, in fact, quite fine.
In smaller doses, this drug would probably be wonderful - clear-headed and intensely visual. But I think it will be a long time until I try it again. I never experience paranoia, and the calm emotionless detachment that followed, and it was very unpleasant. These particular negative effects were probably related to the high dose, but I've also heard that there is a very long tolerance period, and some people have reported losing all effects from psychedelics when doing NBOMes too frequently. Be careful with this drug - it's so new and so potent that there's a lot of potential for negative and possibly dangerous effects!
I had gotten a vial of 'acid' that simply wasn't effective orally, and was reported to be tongue-numbing, so my suspicion was an NBOMe. The sublingual dose that had been recommended to me was three drops, so I dropped it into my nose, hoping it would be more effective. The visuals started before I'd even screwed the lid on the vial, and within 60 seconds I was stumbling around the room, unable to see where I was going through the visuals.
My first reaction was 'overdose!' since I knew I'd taken much more than I'd planned, it was a drug I'd never done before, and it almost felt like I was passing out because I couldn't see anything or walk anywhere. But I couldn't find anyone to help me because I was so incapacitated.
I intensely wanted to go to the bathroom, and I went (probably in my mind), and it was pitch black and I didn't know how to tell if there was anyone in there, and I didn't know if that would be a bad thing, and there was a gatorade bottle in front of me which meant commercialism, and the plants beside me meant my home, and I was throwing bread all over, and all of the negative emotions associated with my family came to me (and I love my family, and barely have any negative associations), and everything happened over and over, becoming more and more connected.
These experiences cycled more and more intensely, and became more complex and abstract. One moment I was blown away by all the beauty and openness in the universe, the next I was physically dying, the next I was guilty for everything that had ever occurred. Flashes of things real and not real consumed me and every flash seemed so real, and then a second later it was blown away by something even more real, and I concluded that nothing was real.
The intensity of these flashes grew and grew until I was the entire universe going insane. I, the universe, was experiencing everything at once, and they were not nice things, jumping back and forth between every possible negative emotion, and the occasional feelings of beauty I'd felt before became clearly shallow, useless escapism from hard reality. The flashes began to be screaming, crying, hiding, guilty, suicidal, emotionless. Every second was worse and worse and everything was judging me for being so weak, not understanding what was happening to me and how to stop it.
Slowly, I approached what I thought would be death. I began to realize that perhaps there was a physical world outside of my room, almost remembered what it felt like to have the real, fine-grained sensations of eating and walking, and realized myself again. And if there was a real physical world, I must be as crazy and dead as I thought.
My friends keep bursting through the doors and running at me and screaming because they knew I was in grave danger and was going to die, and official-looking people kept coming in (policemen? doctors?) and at one point there was a body bag being put over my head. The windows behind me started shattering into the room, shards of ice and rain and glass flying onto the floor in front of me, grotesque cartoon images of screaming and running at me, but they were too late, we all knew that, it was over for me, and this kept happening and happening and it was worse every time and there was a long crescendo.
Around 8:30pm, my roommate walked into the room and I snapped back to reality, and I asked her why it was storming so hard and why there was water all over the floor. There wasn't any storm or water. She talked me down and I slowly entered a very pleasant state with some of the best visuals I've ever had. There still was water all over the floor, and wavy 3D meshes blocking my path, but it was okay, it was beautiful. I started drawing with her, and my visuals translated into gorgeous artwork, crazy dragon birds and trees, and it was exhilarating. I was finally clear-headed and capable of conversation, and the negative emotions vanished.
Around 11:30pm, she left to celebrate a friend's birthday, and I began to 'realize' that if I'd had even one drop more, I might have died (since I felt rather like I was passing out when first coming up, and the period where I lost touch with reality seemed like it could have been near-death delirium), and this was absolutely appalling because I had been so reckless, dropping unknown amounts of a drug I'd never done before into my nose, and if my fingers had been just a bit more shaky, I would have been gone forever. The only reason I'd survived, I decided, was because the universe cared about the people who loved.
Around 12:30am, I was still tripping insanely hard, and the drawings had waving clothing and moving hands, and the molding on the walls was dramatically changing shape as I watched. It felt like the blood pressure in my head was through the roof, and I thought that since this drug was a vasoconstrictor, it must have constricted all the blood vessels in my head and they were blown out and never would be functional again. Then I thought about how much that must have affected my brain, though I probably deserved it because I had been so careless, and my life had been saved for the sake of the people who love me, but I certainly could trade my intelligence for keeping my life.
I came to the conclusion that my blood pressure had to be lowered as soon as possible, or blood wouldn't get through my severely constricted vessels into certain parts of my brain and I'd get much dumber. I felt very calm, emotionless, and supremely clear-headed, so I figured my logic was sound (which of course it wasn't). I tried smoking weed to lower my blood pressure, but my head didn't feel any better, so I figured I should get some pharmaceutical-strength drugs, or I'd regret it later.
Around 1:30am, I called the EMTs for a drug overdose (I told them 2C-B since I figured that was more common, but they had no clue what it was - how are they supposed to treat drug overdoses like that??), and they put me in an ambulance, and tested my vitals, but they were fine and my only complaint was a headache. I kept telling them that it was a vasoconstrictor and I needed drugs to lower my blood pressure, but the doctor said that was unnecessary - 'we don't want to fix what isn't broken!'
They all left to take care of real emergencies - people were being run in, vomiting and yelling and dying and I felt so bad about taking up an entire ambulance (but not that bad because I melodramatically thought that no matter what, there was an ambulance destined for me that day), so I sat there quietly, since I'd realized they wouldn't give me drugs if my vitals were fine. I was still tripping, but perfectly calm and detached. One of the nurses insisted that I take a urine test, but I legitimately forgot to pee in the cup, and she rolled her eyes like I've never seen eyes rolled before, so she took me back to the bed and said that I had to pee in the cup before I left, it was hospital policy. After a while another nurse came over and let me go, and I never did have to pee in the cup.
Around 4:30am, I was out of the hospital and walked home. Everyone had heard I'd gone to the hospital, and were worried about me and felt so bad for leaving me, but I didn't mind. I was still convinced that all my brain cells were gone, but not afraid, I'd never really been afraid, just clear and perfectly logical. The visuals had finally subsided.
Around 7:30am, my boyfriend finally convinced me that I had not overdosed to the point of brain cell damage, that I'd have been turning blue and unconscious if my brain cells were being damaged - but it took about 30 minutes of arguing, I had been so convinced.
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