6 days later, still not the same, but way more astute.
So I'm going to copy and paste something I wrote up the other night, after a weekend of good times. Well, minus me crying because I thought my uncle was dying. I have NEVER, been high like this. Honestly, I think it was just a combo of strong pot cake during an MDMA hangover. Then again, this was my first time doing pure Molly, never did acid, and there was an argument about LSD the night before. It all ties in once you read the story.
Main thing I want to know is whether or not you think there was more than MDMA and THC at play here.
So this is going to be impossible to remember every detail, but I’ll write what I remember. Friday afternoon, a vial is placed in front of me with about .1gr of pure MDMA. I placed it under my tongue, and held it there while I smoked a cigarette on the way to the creek. We get to the creek after ten minutes, I swallow the sour bitter crystals, everyone goes off in their own direction, and after about half an hour, the Molly is making me sweat. I climb up the side of the hill and look down over everyone. I thought about climbing to the top, but I was getting tired, so I head back down. I was sweating so much that I walked down the creek to deeper water to take a dip. I dunked myself completely, and was still hot. Mountain water is cold, but apparently not enough when you’re rolling. I took a second dip, and realized I would never cool off enough, so I headed back up to where we arrived. By this time, I was rolling hard. I wouldn’t say I PHYSICALLY felt much, but my mood was racing and careless, and euphoric. Not like thizz or krank. This was my first time doing pure Molly. After a couple hours, everyone heads back up as the sun goes down. At the house, I sit on my laptop for a few hours typing and talking and emailing and blogging about aliens, and the theory of relativity and get philosophical about life. Then, it was time to head back to sleeping quarters, so me and my friend get in the car and head out. We get to the sleepage, and a new Neil Young song comes on the radio, so we sit in the car before going inside. The song was The Needle of Death. Very sad, poignant song, with rugged production. It put Molly on the map for me. Sitting in the car, overlooking a canyon with the stars and moon above. This was just the tip of the iceberg.
I popped a 5-HTP because my friend said it’s good for serotonin. I had no trouble sleeping that night. Then, I wake up in the morning around 11am or so? I was really thirsty, so I drink most of the apple juice and the rest of the fruit punch. Saturday night some visitors were visiting, so some edibles were made. At 3:30am Sunday morning, we eat the edibles. Actually, I take a tiny taste, and nearly two hours later felt nothing so I deemed it appropriate to eat the same amount. In general, I ate a golfball sized piece. I know there was an ounce of kief, and a half ounce of dank buds in the whole cake. The person who made the edibles was arguing with his girlfriend the night before because she apparently wouldn’t let him come up on some LSD. So, the edibles were out of the oven, and I had the feeling the night would be like no other. Things get blurry from here.
Two hours after the cake exited the oven, I was laughing uncontrollably with another person in the room. He had consumed about 10 times the amount of cake I did, so I can only imagine. Oh yeah, and my uncle too. So, the laughing started when my uncle was falling asleep in the dinner chair, like he usually does after work, but something was different. He began dry heaving, and stood up, but was barely able to walk. He ate the edibles only 45 minutes before they hit him, AND he had about ten times as much as me. Soooo, who knows. I’ve never done LSD before, but I believe my portion was laced with the stuff. I mean, how could the truth of acid be kept a secret if his girlfriend knew about it? So, my uncle was dry heaving and barely able to walk, so I guide him to the door and spend the next hour or something babysitting him with a bucket, and by this time, 3 or so hours after I ate the cake, I was barely able to function. I didn’t know what to do. I was really paranoid, but somehow knew I would be okay. I felt like everyone was conspiring to test my integrity. I started considering cutting my dreadlocks I felt so dehumanized. I have been skydiving three times, and I can say this: I was more fearful now than I was when my harness loosened during my last jump. My uncle’s face was turning jaundice yellow, red veins were protruding from his face, and his eyeballs were bulging. He is 50 years old, and seeing him like that made me start crying. Someone opened the door and I manned up my tears but just a little too late. I was caught red handed, crying. Then I recall not recalling anyone ever dying of just pot, then I remembered hearing that it would take something like a couple hundred pounds or more to ingest a lethal dose of THC. Then I thought about the area I was in. Hell, California has the best of the best from my experience. So here I am, three and a half hours after the edibles were born. I started seeing kaleidescope gears and stuffs and random hashmagtagsIdon’t know WHAT is going on. I tell my brain “IIIII WAAAAANT IIIT TOOOO ENNND.” Then I think about my uncle only three feet away from me. I grabbed the bucket, tapped him on the shoulder to see if he was still conscious, and encouraged him to vomit. The whole time, he was barely puking anything up, just brown muck which I assume was the brownies. Remember, he ate ten times as much as I did. The sky was turning blue around 5:30am or so, and by 6:30, my uncle was able to walk with assistance. I hold under his arms, and drag him to my car. It was either this, or sleep on a rickety deck all day. So, after some minutes, my uncle is finally in the passenger seat, and my friend is in the back seat, and I get behind the wheel. I had it engraved in my mind that part of my test was to man up and take care of my uncle. Why was I getting behind the wheel under the influence of space cakes? Well, our destination was very close, and on a deserted road, so no one was in danger but ourselves. We made this choice. Oh yeah, our friend was in the backseat being quiet. I dropped my uncle off, help him into his bed, and get back in the car to take my friend a bit further down the road. I remember ranting about something, being worried about my uncles yellow skin, and I started fading back into panic mode. I said “I don’t know what the hell’s going on.” My friend says, “Dude, it’s fucking obvious, this shit’s been dosed.” For anyone who doesn’t know, a “dose” is a hit of LSD. Typically. Or like a bowl of pot. You know, a bowl can be a half gram, or a gram. A dose can be a hit or more. So, my friend was appearing upset that these cakes possibly had acid in them, and while I was having a bad trip, I don’t regret it. It was a beautiful experience. I get back to the sleepage around 7:00am or so, and check on my uncle. He wasn’t dead. He was in a deep sleep, and I was not only high, but possibly dosed, and definitely still had MDMA in my system. I kept telling myself all the variables every time I got paranoid, and I was able to calm myself down. I don’t know for sure what the entirety of my cake piece consisted of, but I have never felt like this in my entire life. I have never been so scared, yet so calm. I can’t explain the feeling. On a scale of one t… NO! THERE IS NO SCALE!!! Don’t even try and scale this one. So, 42 hours after consuming the space cake, I am somewhat irritable, mood swings, nothing violent, but one minute nostalgic, next minute aggravated. This was a life changing weekend, and my dreadlocks survived the chaos. This has got to be the most spiritual thing I have ever been through. I don’t know how, or what else to say. Hopefully this wasn’t too boring.