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Music Addict
Join Date: Feb 2011
Location: GuangZhou, China
Posts: 55
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I was with a few friends one night when I saw a plant with small cactus pods. I remembered having heard about it before when I was a few years younger. They were called Jimson weed. The word around the campfire was that if you cut open the pod and let the seeds dry out, they will turn brown and be edible. I had never heard anything about dosage, although, I seem to recall hearing something about eating no more than half a pod, though I am unsure if that was when I first discovered Datura or after my friends took it at my first encounter with it. Anyway, I took a few pods off the plant and decided to share them with other psychonauts I knew. I could not find the few people I knew would have tried it so I dried out a couple pods, anyway.
A couple days later I saw that the seeds had turned gustably brown.
At about 7:00P.M. I swallowed about half a pod which I estimated to contain about 280-320 seeds. I guess about two hours had passed until I started to feel the effects. I had no idea what to expect. I was watching something on TV with the lights off. I started to feel dissappointed. I got up to get a drink, or something, and I felt very heavy and lost my balance when I stood up. I remember telling myself "wow, I am flying! I am really flying!"(the enthusiasm about flying came from my previous notions about powerful drugs like that: they will make you feel like you can fly). At that pseudoaerial moment the feelings were pleasant and euphoric until a vicious feeling of a cotton-mouth hit me. I "glided" to the sink and got a drink. A few seconds later I had the same cotton mouth. I had terrible balance and poor depth perception(greatly reduced ability to know how far away anything was from my grasp). My friend Chris came home and didn't seem to notice anything was awry. Then my mum came home.
it must have been near 8:00-30 now.
It was November at the time and quite cold in Woodstock, Canada. I had been seeing some fast, black dots streaking across the room like a fly buzzing around. I remarked to my mum and Chris that I thought it "amazing that flies are still buzzing around this late into November. I thought they all would have frozen." They had no idea what I was talking about. The next thing I remember after my "flies in November" observation was putting somebody's boot on the countertop and inserting various items like a pencil, a salt shaker, crackers, a fork, a small booklet and other small objects, into the boot. I can only remember telling my mum and Chris that I had some purpose to my actions; that it was a vital task I had to undertake. After I put all the random objects into the boot I put it back on the shoe mat, carefully and methodically. After that I stumbled to the fridge and became frustrated after attempting to grab a hold of the fridge handle. I could not sense how far away the handle was. I finally got it, flustered and nearly exhausted from so many failed attempts to open it. I just stared listlessly into the fridge and grabbed a carton of soy milk. I looked at it, astonished at what I was holding. With my eyes wide open and mouth ajar as if I had just prevented a lit cigarette in my dust bin from igniting some tissues and newspapers on fire, I asked Chris, "wow, Chris! Where did I get this?" "Uhhh, the fridge," he said. At this point they still didn't grasp the seriousness of just how stoned I was. They were aware that I was acting strangely, but couldn't think of anything that would have had that effect on me. My mum was a bit worried and deduced that I must have taken something, and told Chris to keep an eye on me.
It must have been around 9:30-10:00, about two or three hours into the ordeal, when I found myself in the bathroom, several times, as I kept walking in and out after completing some job. I remember holding an oval soap dish with a brown and golden ancient Egyptian border around it. I kept trying to wash it off and then I would place it on its side when I finished. Chris was standing at the bathroom door the whole time without my noticing him, just watching what I was doing the way someone would watch a physical altercation unfolding across a parking lot, waiting to see if it would become serious or violent before getting involved. Every once in a while I would realise he was there and tell him that things needed to be cleaned and that there was some problem in the bathroom. The most severe (if that is the right word) thing I remember from that night was waliking into the bathroom again. I looked at the mirror and noticed I had a small, white stain on my Jimi Hendrix t-shirt. I tried to rub it off and remarked to the stranger in the mirror that we had the same stain. Just seconds later I pointed out that we also had the same shirt. I became quite irritated and defensive about this imposter in my bathroom and bitterly said to him "get the **** out of my house! What are doin' in my house? Dude, you need to get the **** out, now!" Chris just watched in shock. Who could ever have imagined it possible for a person to forget his own reflection? and then become enraged at it, too? He calmed me down and assured me that I was overreacting. I have no memory of what I did immediately after that. I think I blacked out, but I was still walking around. My memory seemed to have shut off. The next thing I remember, quite suddenly, as if my memory had been turned on again, was standing in the bathroom looking at my mum as she extracted a body towel, a hand towel and a face cloth from the toilet. I had no idea what was going on. She looked really worried about me. She kept asking Chris what I took but he didn't know either and they couldn't get any sensible answer from me. I have a very vague memory of having some complex purpose for putting the towels in the toilet. During all this, by the way, I had still had the savage dry mouth, so I had been drinking water periodically.
At around 12:30 A.M., five and a half hours after I had ingested the seeds, I had still been plagued by the abrasive cotton-mouth, and by a painfully full bladder because of all the water I had drunk to quench it. I had not been able to urinate at all during the peak effects or during any of my numerous adventures in the bathroom. All the water had added up and hurt my bladder immensely. I could not manage even a small drop of urine despite the obvious need to do so. I am not sure how much time passed after the incident with the towels, but my best guess is about 1.5-two hours.
During the night's final stages my sense of identity returned along with my motor coordination, but I began to have unpleasantly vivid, tactile hallucinations of white, translucent spiders with long, curly tails composed of what seemed like fishing line. They had made me very agitated and paranoid because they had been crawling up the walls, on the floor around me, up my legs, in my hair and up the curtains. There were not swarms of them, as you might have inferred, but roughly a dozen or more visible at any moment. I became quite distressed about the situation because they felt very real. Wherever I looked I could see that their long, cumbersome tails had been making them very clumsy as they crawled. The hallucinations were so overwhelmingly vivid and tactile because whenever I stepped on their "tails" they illusively tripped up, or got snagged beneath my feet and struggled to go anywhere, whether along the floor, or up the walls. The sensations were so tactile that I felt itchy as they stumbled up my arms and legs. I was not scared or overly distraught, or anywhere near panicking, as one would assume, but paranoid and overwrought. I compulsively scanned the room for them and tried to see where they had all come from. They had been combing the room like white smoke, everywhere I looked. My mood changed from being tensely agitated to immensely irritated by them. After repeated attempts from anxiety to squash them with my feet, my vengeful efforts to rid my home of these clumsy, hybrid creatures led me to summon my dog Lucy for help. I commanded her to "get 'em!" and pointed to them, floundering and limping beneath her snout. She just wagged her tail as she sniffed the floor, frantically trying to get what I was pointing at and then promptly returned to her original position to listen to whatever I said. The next day, Chris told me I had been talking to Lucy seriously, as if she were conversing with me and satisfying my curiosity about whatever topic. She followed me everywhere I went, always at my heels or sat attentively in front of me. There was one point during my experience, despite the distressing hallucinations that absorbed me, when I realised with a small degree of deliberate cognizance that Lucy's bizarre (who's calling who bizarre?) behaviour and worried countenence gave me the sense that she knew something was wrong with me. She had a concerned, penetrating look in her eyes every time I had stopped wandering.
Once again the agonising urge to urinate brought me back to the bathroom. I could still see the spiders climbing everywhere. I must have stood at the toilet with my pants down for twenty minutes, or more, while I tried to pee. I was too distracted by all the spiders struggling to climb up the toilet bowl. I flushed the toilet but they all managed to stay on the surface of the water exactly the same way a strand of fishing line would. Eventually I started to pee, painfully and only a little at first. It definitely wasn't a situation I would want anybody seeing. I think the determination to drown the spiders in piss made myself able to finally pee. I had such a long, orgasmic emiction, perhaps the longest I have ever had. After that I went to bed, brought Lucy up, and had a conversation with her about work. I don't know how long I had been conversing with her when I suddenly came to my senses and said to myself, "what the **** is wrong with me? I was just talking to my dog," and laughed. I was very glad when that was over.
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lmfao I read all that man good trip 
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