2CB & DMT Kicked My Childish Ass

Saturday, November 20, 2010
46 mgs. 2CB, 2 Light DMT Hits:

This was the heaviest 2CB trip of my life and I am left feeling a lot of ambivalence about myself and am continuing to feel some alienation from my husband. I am able to share about 60% of the content on this forum.

Background Helps Creates Set & Setting:
I started the day knowing I wanted to trip. I had had a front tooth extracted a couple of weeks earlier and it was finally healing nicely. This had been a troublesome tooth from about a year or so of the date of the adult version growing into place. As a little girl of I am sure less than 10 years old, with an strong “tomboy” nature, but a very pretty new dress made up of pastel squares, I went out to play with the boys and jumped a fence with them. Well the hem of the dress got caught and I landed face first and broke a front tooth to within “the skin of the pulp” according to my dentist. A number of repairs had been made, but it was finally lost a few weeks ago.

I wanted to trip but I didn't want to be burdensome or irritating to my non-psychedelic husband who just wanted to have a nice, chilled, non-work day.

Also, for the past few months, I had been wanting to try the “Nexus flip” combination of 2CB and MDMA, but thought it would be a good idea to do it at home in a secure, low-key setting before trying it at a show or festival.

I had 21 mgs of 2CB powder from a recent trade with a local friend and 3 capsules of what I hoped were 25 mg doses each. I had taken the capsules before and once had a paradoxical reaction – 25 mgs hit me more like 70. I kept the 25 in reserve because of my odd history of being something of a hard head with 2CB and having difficulty finding a “sweet spot” without practically maxing out the Erowid scale.

The 21 mgs parachute came on fast, but light. I got an alert within 35-40 minutes, but within 65 minutes I decided the trip was barely developing at all so I took one of the 25 mgs capsules (which had been broken open and transferred to its own parachute earlier). Within another 30 minutes I was tripping strongly.

A Single, Light Hit of DMT:
Things developed pleasantly and euphorically, without being overtly visual. And then I decided to take a hit of DMT. I was near the end of a changa bowl so it wasn't a huge hit, but nonetheless it hit me hugely. My trip instantly became crazily visual, full of spinning shapes and rushing faces, some of them very ugly. Many things happened that are impossible to detail in that ever-changing, bio-mechanical, DMT way. But, one thing I do remember seeing while looking at incredibly colorful spinning wire like 3-D frames of geometric shapes, was seeing moving molecular skeletons. Each one was unrecognizable to my untrained eye (I can only recognize a few via my readings on the topic) yet each one did have the indole ring at its heart. I felt I knew them all and perhaps I did. I have looked at the molecular diagrams in PIHKAL and TIHKAL as well as on RC vendor websites and other books.

I got to feeling like I was floating, un-embodied in this space as I watched the molecules. I wondered how I could remember this and tried to focus on one specific molecule. I had a revelation that is difficult to recall precisely now (Of course!), but that I am sure equates quite simply to – memories are state (of consciousness) specific, so I'm most likely screwed and should just sit back and relax.

This business quickly faded and the real business of the Bees/DMT combo began in earnest.


Big, Crazy, Pieces of Baggage from the 1970's!:
Yikes, 2CB is a psychotherapy drug and from this point onwards I sure could have used a psychotherapist. Not necessarily a psychedelic one either, but definitely a psychodynamic one (shudder)!

First I see something that brings a huge crash of childhood memories down upon me! I was such a tomboy as a little girl! I have a vision of a Boy Scout leader (adult, Caucasian, male) standing in front of me in full, uniformed, regalia. My height/perspective was very short – that of a child. He stood there and looked irritated and impatient with me! He was covered in badges and ribbons and his uniform was perfection.

And in comes the flood of memories from before age 10! I don't know how this happened, but I guess the BSA came to our school to recruit and I got intrigued. I thought the activities sounded so physical and fun and that was the kind of kid I was. They forgot to mention it was the BOY scouts until it was too late, or whatever. I have intact memories of my father meeting with other fathers over this – I presume trying to get his little girl admitted to the Boy Scouts!

Eventually, I guess I gave up or my parents talked me out of it (He he, they were so good at this.). Surprisingly I cannot remember. Which means there's likely no getting it back. I was really, really young and my brother is 5 years younger than me. Mom is dead and Dad's memory is destroyed due to alcoholism. I wish I could remember what happened . . . what the true end of this tomboy's story was . . . And why I feel so uncomfortably, freaky thinking about it today. My rational mind tells me this should be something to laugh about. I mean the rebellion and gender mind-fuck is delightful and for such a little girl! Yet, . . .

Another Light Hit of DMT:
Well, I decided to take another hit, but it was a light one as it was from that same, almost exhausted bowl. Again, non-huge hit hit me hugely. I am not sure how accurate my memories are. I have a striking image, then a quick, very disturbing, breakthrough-quality image/feeling, then it's like the DMT and the 2CB decided to not let each other go for the rest of the night. I was visual, tripping hard, getting dragged down into trance, emotional, hot, cold, dragged down into death (again) and my past. Ugggh. Also, my thinking pattern never recovered. I was no longer “clear” which may be an illusion in and of itself while I was tripping. I was thinking weirdly, differently, and I felt, psychotically. This will be very difficult to explain and I hope that it will just be taken as a given by the remainder content of the TR.

A Bored Little Girl:
I am suffering very deeply from middle-aged burnout. A return to psychedelics has helped to mediate this crisis, but I suspect it is going to be ongoing for awhile. It ebbs and flows. Part of burnout is having a lot of experience, of feeling a lot of boredom or ennui with things, of being tired of same old patterns within and without, SSDD, decade after fucking decade.

I was presented with a vision of myself. Myself as a little girl somewhere between the ages of 5-14 – I say this because the little girl did not have glasses on. I'd guess she was 7-9. She was wearing the pastel square dress I wore the day I broke the tooth that had been recently extracted (Worth noting that DMT hits felt very very weird with a healing extraction site in my head.). Her tooth and dress were intact.

She was in the waiting area in what I can only describe as a “Psychedelic Hotel.” There were all kinds of “DMT things” floating and flying around her as well as falling from ceiling to floor. Like the ultimate bio-mechanical, ever-changing, lit-up, confetti. Lots of psychedelic effects coming off of her and items in her surroundings too. She was quietly seated on one of those round settees you see in upper scale hotels, often completely lined with red velvet. This one was piss yellow and was covered in little pastel flowers that kept changing color and form.

The girl sat there with legs crossed, arms crossed, foot tapping in shiny black patent leather shoes (Set the Wayback machine for EARLY childhood), rolling eyes, psychedelic shit falling all around her, looking for all the world like she was bored out of her skull, like she had seen it all before!

Gads! I've been the one to say that psychedelics have helped me to re-find and re-ignite my inner child. To say that the reason I come back over and over to DMT is the novelty. Is she burned out too? What a personally disturbing image. I hate feeling so cynical and jaded and would hate for a child, my inner child, to feel that way.

Gender Trap?:
The next vision clarified to breakthrough quality and had that echoingly spiritual feeling that I associate with heavy DMT spaces. It was an eerily, out-of-body, floating in an upper room corner perspective. I felt like a disconnected ghost looking at a higher reality. Looking into the heart of my own soul/essence/nature. There is gender confusion there it looks like.

I was a tomboy as a child, but have had no gender confusion as an adult and actually as I have moved through the decades I have just become more comfortable in my female role and am so solidly heterosexual it is almost laughable.

And yet, I saw two people, both of whom (I cannot say why) I am 100% certain were symbolic of my true self. A man and a woman, each easily 20 years younger than my current self, trapped in a room that looked like a scientists' specimen observation/isolation chamber, complete with a giant glass wall. They were clearly trapped in this room and had been so for a very, very long time. They were desperate and unkempt with messy hair. He needed a shave. They were very angry and sometimes fought/pounded. They were very sad, and often cried and clutched each other.

Gads! They were fucking trapped! They were/are me! Or perhaps, . . . un/underdeveloped or repressed parts. Who knows? Not this psychonaut. Not currently.

Weirdness, 1970's/Mother Imagery, An Exciting Event in Reality:
At this point, my thinking patterns became weird and confused. Once I was moaning and my husband asked what he could do and all I said was, “Tell me we are in the 3rd millennium and not back in the 70's!” Another time I had to turn off Shpongle, because I realized that the album was full of quotes by people with names like James, McKenna, Watts, Huxley, etc. Not a single one of them currently alive. I felt I was getting dragged down into my past by dead people!

It is very difficult for me to languagize how I got dragged into the past by the dead, but I can honestly say my mother was a major player.
My mother burned to death in a horrific accident one week before my 19th birthday. She was 46 years old, 4 years older than my current age. Up until that time, we had been incredibly close, enjoying a rare and very special mother-daughter bond, especially given that Mom worked full time and I was a know-it-all teenager.

I kept having thoughts of my mother. They were not sad thoughts. I just kept feeling like a child.

My parents used to always listen to KDFC, a classical radio station in the Bay Area, when I was a child. Dad even built and super-wired his own quadraphonic Heathkit stereo (Look it up kids!). I developed an early recognition (& partial appreciation) for classical music. I own a few CD's and among them are some classical music albums, including some with images of musical clefts, bases, cellos, etc. I am also thinking I have seen some visionary art recently with the images of a base or cello merged with the curve of a woman's hip. Somehow this entire mess combined with the fat gray cat sitting on my lap. I wish I could explain how. I was psychotic at this point. I did not have an actual image with open or closed eyes, but there was this hugely important image that I felt was trying to breakthrough into my perceptions. Something vaguely to do with the curve of my fat cat, the curve of a woman's hip, my mother's body, a musical cleft, the shape of cellos and bases. I listened to no classical music on this day.

Wish I could make more sense out of this mess other than, . . . . get the rubber room ready. I honestly believe that if I had spent this amazingly long (over 8 hours) 2CB trip (very long for me – I'm usually all the way down after 5) with a psychodynamic therapist, I might have been able to glean a few more insights. Perhaps not and the rubber room hypothesis is more accurate.

It was all getting crazy/hectic in my mind and for some reason I was beginning to feel like a dissociated skull floating in space, missing a tooth! When, all of a sudden , . . . wait for it, . . . I hear a strange crackle sound . . . like a crumpling bread wrapper. What the fuck! That's one of two “DMT carrier wave/breakthrough” sounds I'm familiar with! I didn't take another hit. I don't think I'm having audio hallucinations! I say to my husband, “Tell me that's real?”

He looks up and heads towards the window where the sound came from when a giant, blue flash of lighting goes off. We almost never get this kind of weather! At this point, hail is pounding hard on our window, thunder is crashing and lighting is going off again. The storm came on as suddenly as a hit of 5-meo-DMT and hit about as hard. The hail almost instantly turns into pounding, pouring rain and we go out briefly. It is so incredibly cold but I stay out as long as possible. The sound effects make it sound like “God is Having a Junk Sale,” so I take a moment to post that in Random Thoughts. The letters on Hipforums are dancing, my Spicey Cat sigpic is squirming and my entire computer screen appears to have a lenticular curve of radical proportions. Time to log off.

I get off the computer and come to realize that “Divine Moments of Truth” is playing by Shpongle. I have a wee bit of history with this song, needless to say. But, ever since December, 2009, I cannot take DMT breakthrough doses to this song – I am too flat out terrified. And terrified/flat out are perfect words - not too strong.

I'm sitting on the bed listening to the beginning of this song and something very strange happens. I have to take about 30 minutes to completely check out and I don't have much memory of what happened. There was a lot of moaning and groaning that really worried my husband. I do know it had to do with working on the terrifying content from last December. I cannot say I am healed, but I now think I might be able to face a hit of DMT with that song playing and that is tremendous forward progress from the self-damage done last December. It took me a long time to “come out of” the trance that this song dragged me down into. I stayed for the DMT song, for “And The day Turned To Night,” and just for the heck of it, included “Dorset Perception.”


A "Prayer" for a Great Man:
I was able to take a few very mindful moments to try to focus some powerful and healing energy towards Dr. Shulgin. As close to “prayer” as I am likely to ever come to. But I did sincerely feel that if there is anything at all like a morphic field, there had to be a lot more people in the area, in the state, in the country and on the planet taking something from PIHKAL & TIHKAL today. Even if they didn't know Dr. Shulgin's name, I know it all adds up. There are so many people pulling for his quick, easy and meaningful recovery and at least 10-15 more years of life on this plane.

Back to Reality:
The evening rapidly became a bit more mundane, actually dissolving into a type of tension or argument between my husband and myself, that although ongoing, is not so tense tonight. He does not like me to take RC's, especially if I have a difficult reaction or roller coaster ride. I'm going to take RC's, but I'm going to try to be as safe and responsible as possible. But, I hate having to have a kind of “performance anxiety” with him around while I'm tripping. If I moan or cry or whatever, he gets overly concerned. He has no insight at all about how a rough ride or a primal experience might actually be helpful or therapeutic for a person. Hell, at a bare minimum, I recovered a repressed memory this time around. Only time can tell about potential longer term effects.

Also, something really, really ugly happened within 12 hours that I am not able to mention and that he and I have yet to discuss. But I am very resentful because it hit me like HATE and the timing was shitty given that I was coming down from a rocky experience.

So, the integration has been difficult and has only really just begun, truth be told. Wish I had had some professional help with this one. Lesson learned. I will no longer ever treat 2CB as anything other than the psychodynamic nut (my head) cracker that it was last Saturday, which means no dosing Bees publicly, at festivals, etc. The maximum potential of this material, barring the presence of a professional, for me, is to be met in a safe, secure, contained and quiet setting.


P.S.: The reason the Nexus Flip intention (take MDMA also) failed was because I was having a roller coaster ride and knew I needed to ride it out to its end, not change it. I was also more than "high enough," and kind of felt at that point that the LAST thing I needed on that day was MORE drugs.

 

Wow Spicey, alot of really heavy stuff going on here. That seems like it would be difficult having the majority of the trip stuck in the past.

Hopefully you are able to make sense of some of these visions in the coming days/weeks/months. Eventhough your husband is not a psychotherapist did you try and talk to him at all about some of these visions and flashbacks? I often find on alot of the empathogenic drugs talking to someone can provide a great deal of relief and comfort but possibly with the DMT hits that may have been difficult. Well hopefully writing this all out provides a bit of relief as well.

Great, revealing report!

 

Yeah, thanks, it has been helpful writing the mess down, as best I could.

I have talked a bit more with him and he volunteered that he got to thinking about things and realized that some of the noises of discomfort I was making were the EXACT same kinds of noises that he makes when he gets hit with what he calls "an intrusive memory bubble," LOL! Thus, we are beginning to find a meeting of the minds. He was very taken aback when I revealed I had recovered a repressed memory.

I am beginning to believe that for me, DMT is the ultimate combination drug. I used to think cannabis, but it doesn't mix well with high dose anything because it doesn't work anymore ("coals to New Castle"). DMT mixes well with and enhances everything I take. I don't think I could have gotten anything like these visions without it. Sure, I might have gotten some vague, conflicted feelings that I couldn't even get the cause of . . . . But the DMT brought all into stark, visual relief.

 

There almost HAS to be healing in that trip. Maybe it'll take some unwinding to recognize. But kudos on the excellent recall of a complex journey.

 

Wow, yeah I found that typing everything your thinking, with the intent to publish it in a post, then you can go back and edit the personal stuff you really dont wan't public really helps, because you still get the emotional relief from typing all of it. I recently just spent 45 minutes straight (my usual typing speed is around 90-130 WPM), typing out something, then decided that 95% of it all was much too personal, so I erased everything and just got right to my point, which took me about 30 seconds to type. Felt really good.

 

I have recovered another memory from this trip that is worth sharing because it is silly, light and amusing and there is nowhere near enough of that in this TR.

When the thunder and lightning hit it was CLOSE and by the third strike of lightning, the thunder was right over us and almost instantaneous. It was a HUGE, exploding BOOM.

Our two "most feral" cats who normally do not get along, gave each other a wide eyed look that say, "Well, this is it!" and ran together, side by side, touching, underneath the bed.

The other cats stayed in place, exhibiting what I have named the fight/flight/freeze response. Their eyes were SO HUGE and WIDE open. They were ALL pupil. There was no room left over for sclera or iris. Just huge pupils.

The looks on the cats' (who stayed) faces was hilarious to my tripping mind. I forgot to be nice and caring and was childish - I laughed uproariously at the expressions on the cats' faces. They were definately taking the weather personally.

But, given that my thinking was more than just a bit tweaked, I immediately ran with the image of those terrified cats and their huge eyes. For some reason I got to thinking, "Wow, they look like Brits during the Blitz!" And it was on in my fantasy life. I instantly cast a hilarious, one-act play (with lots of song and dance), called "Britz During the Blitz!" staring nothing but wide-eyed, terrified looking cats. I laughed so hard, I cried and thought my stomach would never uncramp.