Citation: idonotexist42. "Rapture Madness and the Doors of Perception: An Experience with 2C-I (exp106517)". Erowid.org. Apr 29, 2021. erowid.org/exp/106517
At the time that I write this, it has been three years since the experience happened and I have since done 2C-E, 2C-B-Fly, 25i-Nbome, MXE, LSD, LSA, DMT, 5-MEO-DMT, 5-Meo-Dalt, 4-FA, 3-meo-pcp, DOC, 4-HO-MET, Mushrooms, and possibly some other stuff that I can't think of at the moment. However, this is the story of my first trip ever, on 2C-I.
Ah, this is quite the story. I jumped straight into the deep end with 2C-I. I was a freshman in college, I had tried smoking weed for the first time two weeks or so prior (The weed was on valentines day and so I refer to it as my first date with Mary Jane), and that was quite the psychedelic voyage in and of its self. Anyway, the same guy who smoked me up that first time was into RC's and he had a giant bag of 2C-I. This was just several months before it was banned so I count myself very lucky that I got to try it.
His roommate asked me if I wanted to try the 2C-I. I did some googling, it seemed like it wasn't going to kill me, and I'd always been curious about tripping so I said fuck it, lets do this shit. He eyeballs what I estimate was somewhere around 20mg, and I parachuted it. We then went to the dining hall for dinner and I gorged myself (This would turn out to be a very bad idea) it still hadn't started to kick in when we finished dinner and got back. We then went to this slam poetry comedy thing in the student center. I am told that it was terrible, I however was most entertained. We were sitting in the little theater waiting for the show to start when it started to kick in. I first felt it in my teeth, a funny little tingle. Colors started to get more saturated, the tingle in my teeth spread throughout my body. Slowly, an idiot grin started to steal across my face.
Then, all at once, the walls and ceiling started to breath. Fractals started to appear, the performers began shifting in size and warping, their heads got bigger and smaller, and their necks stretched out and curved to and fro, like bendy giraffes. It was rapturous, the euphoria was insane, I was in heaven, everything was ecstasy. Alas, this would not last.
As we were leaving the show, I was obviously intoxicated and giggling quite a bit, my pupils were quite dilated. My friends who had come with me and were in the know found my behavior rather amusing, and none of this would have been a problem had it not been for what happened next. No sooner had I stepped out into the hallway than BOOM! I spontaneously projectile vomited like 6 feet (it made it all the way across the hall, I was like a barf dragon). It caught me entirely off guard, I had not been nauseous at all, it just happened seemingly random. I was at this point rather distraught and panicked but still relatively composed. Indeed I made an effort to pull myself together and seem sober. My RA was there for some reason and he started questioning me. I initially tried to pass it off as simply a bad reaction to the dining hall food (I'm surprised they didn't accept that, Hurley, as the dining hall was fittingly named- I shit you not, it was called Hurley hall- was notorious for giving people diarrhea if not vomiting), I then claimed that I was simply drunk and just needed to go back to my room and rest. For some reason everyone was flipping the fuck out and EMTs were called. I was eventually pressured into admitting that I was tripping. The EMTs were fucking stupid and didn't even believe me when I told them what it was, dumb bastards had to google it, they initially tried to convince me I was on acid, and at one point said 'Are you sure you don't mean Special K, Ketamine'. I had been trying to be as polite and apologetic as I could, but I couldn't help but let an edge of condescension creep into my voice when I said 'No, I mean 2C-I. Its a phenylethylamine psychedelic related to mescaline and synthesized by a chemist named Dr. Shulgin'.
Before going further, I feel I should note that as this was occurring, I felt aside from the panic and nausea almost totally sober, like my flight or fight response sort of snapped everything back to reality as well as it could manage. Shit was still moving around a little but people appeared mostly normal and the environment was no longer fractalized or significantly warped or colorized, just had this kind of vaguely surreal quality to it that I can't quite put my finger on. It felt as though I were having a terrible but realistic dream.
It felt as though I were having a terrible but realistic dream.
Also, the trail of vomit, before the authorities started harassing me, looked really fucking cool. It appeared to float in the air and was all kinds of pretty colors, it looked like one of those pictures of a nebula or some shit-
Anyway, they gave me something for nausea which helped a little as my stomach while fine prior to vomitting was now rather distressed, and despite my protests that I was fine and just needed to go lie down in my room, an ambulance was summoned and I was taken to the hospital. It occurs to me now that as an adult I think I should have had the legal right to refuse medical transport but I was so distraught and disoriented at this point that I just went with it. The ambulance was actually pretty cool, I remarked that it was like flying in a spaceship. All the medical personnel and cops were fucking stupid, really, remarkably stupid. They treated me like I was a child, despite the fact that I was almost totally lucid and articulate, and seemed determined to make me feel as though I were doing something wrong. They were claiming to be trying to help me, when in reality they were terrifying me and I had been totally fine before they got involved. Had they let me go back to my room as I wished the remainder of the trip would likely have been far more pleasant.
When I got to the hospital, I was forced to change into a hospital gown (my clothes were clean, none of the vomit got on them, that shit blasted out in a straight line). They wouldn't give me more of the anti-nausea stuff despite my asking and it being the only useful thing they'd done for me, they said there wasn't anything they could do to bring me down. They just put me in a dark room with a single hospital bed and left me there. It was ironic, they took me to the hospital so they could force me to do the same thing I had wanted to anyway, lie the fuck down, except in a much less comfortable environment. To be fair, the hospital doctors seemed pissed at the EMTs for bringing me here when it was so clearly pointless, I overheard them talking.
I thank god that my friend who had given me the drugs came with me and gave me his iPod (I had left mine in my room, not expecting this shit to happen) I would have gone mad otherwise. Indeed, thanks to music, this next bit of the trip wasn't bad at all, quite the opposite, it was, in-spite of everything, divine. Listening to Dubstep while tripping on 2C-I is still one of the best experiences of my life thus far. I can best describe it as thus: I turned into the iTunes visualizer. EVERYTHING turned into the iTunes visualizer. The CEVs were still the best I've ever had, huge vibrant digital blobs of color warping and pulsing. Sight, sound, feeling all blended into one sense pulsing with the might of the bass drop. There was one song that really fucked with me in a less pleasant way because the whole thing felt like a build-up that never resolved into a drop and the time dilation made it uncomfortable, but god the drops were orgasmic. I also listened to a metalcore album, Instinc, the second album by As Blood Runs Black (I am an avid metalhead, heavy music makes me happy) It was still a good experience, though less so. I rather prefer their first album, and the second, while arguably more melodic is just rather bland in comparison and my low opinion of the album going into it colored the experience. It was more an album I settled for than one I really wanted, the closest music to my tastes available on an iPod filled mostly with poppy post-hardcore.
Eventually however, the iPod's battery died, and thus again my trip took a dark turn. The time dilation was insane. I was in a dark hospital room, alone, and dear god was that not a good place to be for someone in my state of mind. I felt like I'd never come down, every minute was eternity, nothing existed outside my cell. My hospital gown, I decided was a toga, and I was Zeuss. I was god, alone in the cosmos and what a terrible thing that was. The vast weight of the emptiness of the cosmos was a soul crushing loneliness that was existential agony incarnate. Time was dead. Time did not exist. I did not like being god, god is alone, he is unappreciated, his existence is a thankless and tortured one. I believe I came close to Ego Death, although my sense of self did remain intact, but I was alone in the void and reality was but a fleeting memory in this darkened room. There were less bad parts, the visuals were still beautiful when I could force myself not to brood. I noticed that I could control the movement of shadows on the wall, and make clocks run backwards, and for a while I was able to entertain myself by doing this. The body load which had been so ecstatic in the beginning was now a god awful unpleasant crawling buzz and I felt constantly as though I was about to piss or shit myself (this phenomena still sometimes happens when I'm tripping- I don't actually need to shit or piss as when I try nothing happens, but the feeling doesn't go away sometimes. Weed fixes this though) At one point I staggered out into the hall and found a bathroom to actually piss, and god that was difficult. Why does tripping make it so hard to pee? Why? Anyway, this languishing on a hospital bed amidst the void in my darkened room continued on for some time, and I can not remember my ruminations therein in anymore detail.
Finally, after about four hours or so (real time) but to me, Aeons, a doctor came in and told me it was time to go. I was given back my clothes, a campus cop came to drive me back to the school. At long last I was free. Funnily enough, the Cop was really nice and didn't condescend to me much at all. He seemed genuinely curious as to what I was experiencing and although he still treated me kind of like a child, he was at least much more respectful and not a total ass like the EMTs were. I was quite polite of course, and as articulate as ever so I think this helped. I expressed that I mainly just felt really bad for the janitors who had to clean up my vomit and was sorry for causing such a fuss. I was dropped off at my dorm. My friends and I reunited, they made sure I was ok. The girlfriend of the dude who had the 2C-I gave me a hug, which was very kind as it was exactly the kind of comfort I had so desperately needed after my long solitude at the hospital. I was very thankful. It was late at this point though, somewhere around 1:00AM, so they all went to bed. I was still tripping balls though, and I remember that the generally ugly municipal furniture produces some absolutely exquisite fractal patterns that entertained me for a long while. I remember a wooden coffee table took on an appearance of shifting snakeskin. The fractals on everything else were too vastly complex and ever changing to properly describe, though I can still see some of them in my minds I to this day if I make the effort to recall them.
I retired at last to my room and my own blessedly comfortable bed, which despite being alone, was a much better place to be alone in. I had really beautiful surrealist landscape posters that were absolutely exquisite to behold, and one of those himalayan rock salt lamps that became a magical crystal ball full of wonders. I saw a city amongst the clouds within it full of floating and swirling souls, it was the kingdom of heaven I beheld there. I decided then to listen to some more music and close my eyes. I picked The Obsidian Conspiracy album from the progressive metal band Nevermore, always one of my favorites. Holy shit was that a good choice. It was much like the dubstep had been, except in addition to the big colorful blobby visuals, there was actually some fantasy to it, visions of things, not just geometry. The music took me up, grabbed me, shook me, flowed through me. It took me on an emotional roller coaster that was thrilling and even the dark bits were in a way ecstatic. It was an epic mental voyage in the truest sense. The album also sprouted like three extra songs that don't actually exist so that was fucking cool.
I dont' really remember much after that point. I was tripping really hard throughout the whole album, as hard as I had been at any point that night, but it was the last vivid chapter. I recall wanting desperately to come down, and I presumably put on more music and tried to calm myself and enjoy the visuals until I eventually passed out. I was really out of it the next day, wholly exhausted on every level and everything still felt a little surreal. I was very glad to be back on the ground after that long and harrowing ride and it was quite some time before I tripped again. But despite the rough patches, I consider that trip to be one of the most significant and rewarding experiences of my life and I'm very glad I did it. Even amongst all the other trips I've had, including the ones that were uniformly pleasant with no rough patches, I still regard it as the best trip I've ever had. No other drug has come anywhere close to the sheer power and majesty of that 2C-I. It was one hell of a trip.
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