T3:00
Still feeling cold, I retreat to my bedroom to grab a sweater but decide to stay up there for a bit to ride out the raging peak of this trip alone. The orderly visuals adorn every surface, dancing and pulsing in calculated, mechanistic unison. It appears as though everything is lit from below by a purple light with no discernible source, everything appears futuristic, shiny, and weird. My thoughts are disorganized and arbitrary, and they often wither before they can fully develop, leaving me feeling a state of total flat neutrality, my cognitive processes reduced to impotent static. I feel like a cold city skyline at night, seen from a great distance. When I close my eyes I am hit with a ghost image of the room that appears to be composed of a collage of numbers, letters, and other odd symbols. If I lie down with my eyes closed long enough, this dissolves into a great black and purple swath of something or nothing. Eventually this scene becomes occupied by characters, odd blocky humanoid figures composed of dense sections of random numbers, moving jerkily and going about their seemingly normal everyday activities, such as sitting at a laptop, or walking around their plane aimlessly. These beings do not really present in any discernible way- not good, or evil, benevolent, kind, caring, not even indifferent, they simply exist, like I am watching them through a screen, witness to them but entirely separated. I do not care about them, and they do not care about me, and it is alright. I return downstairs to find myself further physically impaired, with my sense of momentum and proprioception heavily compromised. Talking has now become difficult due to being unable to feel my mouth, and thus being unaware of how to properly use it to form phonetic sounds. I am pulsing like a jellyfish and my field of vision is being sliced into blocks that begin to separate from each other and form into 3-d cubes.
T3:20
The open eyed visuals peaked around now, with complex 3-dimensional patterns appearing on surfaces with mottled textures. Most notable were squiggly fractal patterns that resembled bone sutures or ammonitic sutures that begin to very clearly spawn on my ceiling. I found myself with my head lazily thrown back, slack jaw hanging open staring aimlessly at the ceiling. These patterns were not even moving or breathing or shifting, they were simply there, static and bold. Moving my eyes around left tessellated rainbow afterimages of everything, their forms fringed by this same squiggly suture pattern. It feels like everything is covered in spiderwebs and when I move I am disturbing some tentative stringy connection with everything else in the room. That I am anchored in some way to every surface and I feel a slight elastic resistance to every movement, as if the drug is gently but sternly suggesting that I remain still, static, slack and frozen.
T5:30
Continue to hang out and smoke more weed. I mostly just feel stoned at this point.
T8:45
Smoke even more. This time however, it seems like I have really stirred up the dust. I feel like I am suddenly and rapidly being drawn away from myself.
T9:00
Now, 9 hours into the experience, with the help of cannabis, I have entered a sort of a hole. I have curled up on the couch next to my friends and closed my eyes and become entirely separated from the reality they inhabit.
The hole began with a great golden pulsating concentric angular patterns across my eyelids. This soon became wiped aside by a great black abyss, which was soon speckled with explosions and splatters of little white dots, like CRT static or a blizzard. The abyss began to fold up into a network of cylindrical shapes and tubes, still streaked and battered with this onslaught of white particles. These forms then became cut and partitioned, it felt like my mind was being split into sections and separated into its various components. At last this visage shattered to reveal a vast infinite forest of spindly conifer trees, arranged in an eternal field of fractal patterns. I found myself hovering above it, then wandering amongst the trees, the sky above deep and infinitely black, no stars or clouds or anything. The white particles became a raging blizzard, the snow swirling and blowing around me and grating away at my vision. The ground was white with a shallow accumulation of snow. The forest was not scary, or uncomfortable, like everything else this trip it was fundamentally neutral. There was no fear in my heart, no sense of being lost or out of place, simply a sense of being somewhere new. It almost felt magical, and the mystery and majesty of the vastness bathed me in the glory of exploration. Upon opening my eyes and returning to the hole, I found myself immediately back among the forest, not having to navigate the convoluted entry process again. As time progressed I found myself entering a different sort of hole, a more abstract space where I was able to generate clear imagery in my mind, though without constant focus these would soon decay into rainbow concentric ripples and lose their form.
