Citation: lucifer speaks. "Disintegration: An Experience with 3-MeO-PCE (exp114506)". Erowid.org. Jun 19, 2020. erowid.org/exp/114506
The dose described in this report is very high, potentially beyond Erowid's 'heavy' range, and could pose serious health risks or result in unwanted, extreme effects. Sometimes extremely high doses reported are errors rather than actual doses used.]
||(powder / crystals)
20200601 1524 Trip Report
Drug: 40mg Methoxieticyclidine, 3-MeO-PCE
Background: 45yr. Male, weight: 80kg
Prior drug experience: Psychedelics: LSD, ETH-LAD, 1P-LSD, Psilocybin, Fly agaric, 25I/C-NBOMe, 2C-C, bk-2C-B, hash.
Stimulants: MDMA, Methylone, Buphedrone, Mephedrone, and other assorted other substituted cathinones, MPA, MDAI, Amphetamine and various substituted amphetamines. Cocaine, N-Ethyl-Hexedrone
Depressants: Morphine, Heroin, Pregabalin, Assorted Benzodiazepines, Zolpidem, Quetiapine.
No prior dissociative experience, except for ketamine in connection with surgery on several occasions.
Set: In crisis over difficulty writing an article about my master's thesis about cannabis prohibition enforcement in Copenhagen's open-air cannabis market on Pusher Street, Christiania. The day of the trip (25. May 2020) marked the two-year anniversary of the current, ongoing police crackdown. I finished my thesis back in January. Since then, I had been trying to write the article. I had promised myself and my pusher that I would use my findings in order to help end the crackdown. LSD started me on my trip, 28 years ago. After a long, wild ride, I had finally earned my MA in criminology, way behind schedule. I wanted to present my findings publicly, but there was so much bile and indignation in my writing, and so many things to say, that I got stuck. But a coherent article was taking shape. I had accepted the missed deadline. But I was close. My plan was to finish the article by the end of the day.
Setting: But I was stressed about it, and couldn't sleep the night before. So basically, when I woke up Monday morning, I already needed a nap. After running a short errand, I came home to my apartment, smoked a few puffs of a joint, and laid down on my sofa with a book, hoping for a short nap. Then I remembered that I had received a 100 mg sample of something I hadn't tried before.
I found the sample, looked at the label, and looked it up. But I made a mistake. I was looking at the summary sheet for MXE. The summary sheet listed sedation as a physical effect. The dosage sheet listed the common dosage at 25-45 mg, strong dosage at 45-70 mg, and heavy dosage at 70 mg+.
Too much of the wrong drug
I made every mistake in the book when I ingested 40 mg of 3-MeO-PCE on a monday morning. I confused this compound with Methoxetamine and ended up taking way too much.
I confused this compound with Methoxetamine and ended up taking way too much.
I wasn't really afraid.
The trip from then & there to here & now has been wild. LSD was mind-blowing. The experience went well beyond what I had imagined. And I've always found it difficult to explain to people haven't tried. Taking LSD can be understood as removing blinders or lifting a veil. It reveals the real world without the filter. LSD does not reveal what is not there. My first LSD trip was the most defining event in my life. I had read up about the drug before I took it. When I ate those two sugar cubes, I expected colors and patterns. I had read of becoming One, but did not know what it meant. I had no idea what I was in for. The only event that had been as powerful as that first LSD trip, was when I had my psychotic episode in late 2015. Real hallucinations caused by abstinence from Benzodiazepines.
The point is that I knew I had to stay inside and ride it out. But I was not at all sure that I would survive it.
Trip Report: 3-MeO-PCE 40 mg.
Time: 08:45 I decided to be cautious and take a common dose. So I weighed out a 40 mg on my T-00:00: scale, and bombed it.
I expected that when it kicked in, I would feel the same buzzing in my head as I had tried several times during surgery. I expected to hear the familiar WAAA WAAA WAAA, and drift off into sleep.
T+00:25: Decide to read a little bit more about what I had taken. Still thinking I had taken MXE
T+00:30: The buzzing in my ears begins, and it occurs to me that I might have been looking at the wrong drug summary.
T+00:35: The buzzing is beginning to get louder. I stand up and grab the sample package from my stash box. I sit down on the couch. But my vision is getting blurry and I can't read the label. So I stand up again and grab my laptop off the table so I can try to look up the proper drug summary.
T+00:40: I find the right summary for 3-MeO-PCE. But my vision is so blurry that I manage only to read that a heavy dose for this drug is 20 mg+. I'm getting really dizzy, so I put my laptop on the coffee table and kind of ooze myself down and stretch out on the couch and close my eyes.
From this point on, time begins to slow down, and remains slow for the rest of the trip. Except that sometimes it sped up. I could see the different periods of my life, of my personal evolution, reflected in my book collection. By blinking, sometimes I could zoom in close enough to be able discern a title, but as fast as I could decipher the jumble of letters, I forgot what I was looking at, and why I was looking at it.
At some point I found myself thinking that the ego of my deceased ex-father-in-law was among the particles of dust in the void. The sense I got was that his sudden, violent death, caused even his spirit to lose its cohesion; that such an incoherent spirit would have difficulty re-constituting itself or reincarnating. Essentially, robbing the spirit of its immortality.
T+01:00- Time was so warped in this period that I can't really say what happened when. So I'll
T+06:00: just describe it as best I can.
I was flooded with serotonin. I lay there with my eyes closed. I could feel the body rush, but my skin was numb. I poked at myself. Both my legs and then my arms. There was no feeling on the surface, just the slightest sense of pressure, deep in the middle of my limbs, at the bone. The same with my stomach. The face was weird because I heard it, like my skin was dried out and crispy. When I would blink, my eyelids sounded like plastic clicking on plastic. I pinched the skin on my hand. The same dry, fried chicken kind of crackle. But I couldn't feel anything, even when I squeezed, was like touching the skin through one of those soft coolers for drinks, with the aluminum foil lining. The only way I could think of describing it. Only vaguely, deep inside. As it got stronger, closed eye imagery accompanied the deep and vague sensations. It was like I could see the part of skin I was touching. The patch of skin appeared pixilated. But the pixels weren't flat. They were three-dimensional, reaching deep down to the sensation on the bone. The visualization was that the pixels were meant to move downward with the pressure. But only a few pixels would move. When I swallowed my throat was terribly dry. I visualized my throat contracting, the pixels in my throat moved according to the muscle contractions. But some pixels didn't move. They were the tiny areas where the movement of the muscle missed a portion of the skin of my throat. The places where skin did not come in contact with more skin, the pixels were stuck.
I realized that I needed water. I was still mostly keeping my eyes closed. Each time I did open them, was like a snapshot from a different angle each time. And I found that I could zoom in or out of whatever I was looking at, simply by blinking. I felt like I was disintegrating. I had to sit up to reach for my cup of water.
My torso was as light as the Styrofoam my skin felt like. But in the sitting position, my body seemed compressed. The distance between my head, my ass on the couch, and my feet went from really far to really close. I was as light as polystyrene, but Lego was what came to mind. My head went from a Lego-head on top of a long stack of 1- toothed Lego cylinders. As I sat up, the Legos between my Lego head, and my Lego ass on the couch disappeared. Now I was just the Lego head, on the sofa. At first, my Lego feet were as far away as my head had been. When I blinked, I was no taller than a Lego figure.
When I reached for my water, my arm weighed nothing. I needed the water. I knew that. But I was not looking forward to it. Talk about time distortion….I'll have to come back to that. I grabbed the cup, but couldn't feel it. As the water reached my lips, I could sense the temperature difference, but couldn't feel the water on my lips. But I could feel it on my tongue. I couldn't taste it. Lego imagery came to mind again. It felt like taking a swig of tiny, one-dot clear Lego bricks. I didn't like it at all. No taste. Dry Legos tinkling down my dry throat.
Some time later. Maybe four hours into the trip, I sensed in my bladder that there was enough pee in there to make it worth my while, to make a go for it. That would require sitting up, getting up, and making it to the toilet. When I sat up, I was my full height, but my feet were so far away that I could barely see them. I grabbed my bed post, and went down on one knee, becoming Lego figure-sized again. Maintaining my grip on the bedpost, I stood up. Just a Lego head, on top of a stack of Lego cylinders, 180 cm high.
There was a buzzing body-load, deep inside me. Also in also in my head. But my skin and deep in my flesh were totally numb. And my body was light as a feather. I shuffled to the toilet and managed to take my pants down and sit down. I didn't bother to turn on the light. It was too far away and on the other side of the bathroom door, which was halfway open. Trying to grab a swinging door, and reach around it for the light switch seemed like an impossible task.
I pretty much had to crab-walk my way to the toilet. I was so out of touch with my body. I spread my legs and bent my knees, and shuffled to the toilet. My depth perception was switching between microscopic and telescopic. With my knees bent, I was flat. I felt like a Lego head, placed directly on top of one flat, four-dot Lego piece, which constituted my feet. If I tried to stand up, I was miles above the floor. I sat there in the mostly dark bathroom, bent over. And waited for something to happen. I felt like nothing as I sat there waiting. I tested my skin. I couldn't feel anything. But I could hear it: like the crispy skin of a fried chicken. I felt like all of my muscles were relaxed. I felt like everything but my bones and my core organs, were made of Styrofoam. Sitting there, relaxed, I could just make out the sensation of the urine coming. There wasn't much. I wasn't drinking enough water. It felt and sounded like I peed out maybe 3 or 4 tiny, yellow-tinted, Lego dots. Everything was dry and everything I touched sounded like clicking pieces of plastic together.
I couldn't feel anything. I guess I could say that it felt like my whole body had been pumped full of Novocain, injected everywhere on my body, injected through long, creepy needles. But the core of my body and brain were buzzing with rolling waves of thought in an endless white void. A thought would occur to me at the bottom of a wave. As I rose up upon the wave, the thoughts would solidify into coherent thought. But as soon as the coherent thought became so solid and important enough for me, that I wanted to record the thought on my computer, as the wave crested, and drive me toward my laptop, to type in the thought before it disintegrated, the thought would begin to slide, in infinite thin, brown layers of dust, spreading away from me, wiping the thought out of my head in layers. So on the way down the wave, the thought would disintegrate, one word at a time.
I would slide of the couch, ass first to reach the computer, my depth perception would shift between the extremes. I couldn't see straight. And as I would try to type the thought, the keyboard appeared to only have 4 or 5 buttons on it. So I was just pointing, from far away, trying to hit the right buttons. As soon as I began to type, the thought would become shorter and shorter, as coherence flowed away on the infinite waves of the thinnest light brown dust, flowing away in all directions. This happened at least 9 times throughout the day. I know this because I had created 9 new Word documents for whatever the thoughts were. Each document only had a few mixed-up letters and misspelled words. Only two of the pages contain a single, coherent thought each.
Well, like I mentioned, I read up on this drug (3-MeO-PCE) too. And what I had tried during surgery was like a drop in a bucket compared to what I was experience. I really thought I would go to sleep! Man, was I wrong.
And this experience has been just as consequential for me, as was LSD and my psychosis. "Dysforiserende" was one of the very first thoughts that came to me as the drug's effect began to really take hold. The come-up was quite forceful. And I realized then that my academic understanding of Dysphoria was greatly insufficient, compared to what I was experiencing.
It was wholly bizarre; wholly synthetic; a digital world without tactile sensation. An artificial universe. And I remembered thinking how terrible it would be, to be trapped in such a state. Neither alive nor dead. Is this what it might be like for a computer-generated artificial intelligence, if someone hit the snooze button. And I wondered about people who are brain dead. Trapped in no-mans land, where the ego is neither alive nor dead.
But where ego death brought a feeling of unity; of oneness, this was nothingness; The One, now only dust it a white void. Nothing was anything but dust. Having glimpsed the other side with LSD, I could envisage only bliss and reincarnation after death; the freedom of spirit, and the sheer abundance of life forms, all experiencing existence in their own fashion. Euphoria showed me the bliss of becoming One; of dying and moving on. There was only bliss and new life. I was convinced and completely at ease with the idea that the soul, or true self was eternal, only being annihilated at the end of an age. That ego died, but consciousness lived on. That the spirit could be much older than the body it is living in. That this was the natural order of things.
40mg of 3-MeO-PCE, felt decidedly like Ego not-death. It felt like my ego was the light-brown dust I was seeing, blowing away in the ether. Like a tape being erased, the magnetic dust being wiped right off the tape and into a digital void.
One recurring thought which stayed with me for much of the day was this:
The reason I kept thinking this was that I was not at all certain that I would survive the day. After all I had gone through in my commitment to the cause. Having finally earned a Master's degree in Criminology and written my thesis on prohibition enforcement, here I was, about to die because of a stupid mistake with a drug I did not care about.
Having gone through so much in my pursuit of knowledge about drugs and drug prohibition…now here I was, probably dying from this bizarre drug before I could join the fight in earnest, and before my children were old enough to hear the story of my journey, and what I learned along the way.
This, to me would constitute "Perfect Irony."
Somehow I found this somewhat amusing. I mentioned earlier, the nine Word documents I had created. I had gotten it into my head that it was imperative that I jot down one or two of the most important things that my children should know about, before kicking the bucket.
I did not like this world. This dissociative non-death, and the uneasy fear of being trapped in this state, for any length of time, I wanted the whole experience to end quickly, before allowing myself to dissolve completely into death. So each of the times when the thought was coherent enough to drive me to attempt to write it down, I thought that as soon as I had recorded the thought, I could then simply hit the Enter key, and die this perfectly ironic death.
Each time was its own "aha!" moment. But I couldn't type the thoughts and would lay back down, my mind blank again. And each time, I would chuckle to myself about the simplicity of my solution. The prospect of dying and returning to the One, or simply ceasing to exist, were prospects infinitely preferable to being trapped in the void for any length of time beyond a few minutes. Let alone, becoming trapped this way in a coma.
It felt like being erased. Not like becoming anything. But becoming nothing. But many of the dangers, I realized, could relate to the numbing effect of this anesthetic. And the total unreality of the Trip. My limbs were so numb and foamy, that I was certain that I could stab myself through the arm and not feel it. Or not feel the cold. My vision was so blurry; depth perception. One could easily walk into danger if one were this high out in public. I sensed also, that such an experience could lead the user to harm themselves and others, because nothing seemed real. It was like being stuck inside an old television set. Or in a computer. And in that dysphoric universe where nothing matters, killing others might appear as logical solution to being alone in the Void for eternity.
Time was still acting strangely. I would lay with my eyes closed for long stretches, occasionally opening them to check if the effects were tapering off, getting worse, or what have you.
Each time I opened my eyes time would shift. I couldn't stretch out on my little couch. I slid on my ass to the floor and lay on my back looking at the ceiling. The light was so bright. The sun was shining in the window. Everything looked clean and new. It seemed that whenever I would open my eyes, my position in time would change. It seemed like I could travel backward or forward in time, just by blinking. So much so, that I wondered if I had been lying dead on the floor, for the last three years since moving in. And my body so light, and apparently desiccated like a mummy, dried out like a husk instead of rotting away.
T+07:00: Finally, I sense that my vision is a tiny bit less blurry. And I start to suspect that just might pull through.
T+07:30: I decided to try to turn on DemocracyNow to catch the news. This was about 16:30. I notice how distorted the opening music sounds, and Amy Goodman's voice sounded distorted too. Noam Chomsky was the guest for the hour. He looked extremely old and frail; his speech, slow; his voice, deep and gravelly. I could barely make out his words, just constant repetition of the words "coronavirus" and "China" punctuated by deep mumblings. But I listened anyway. The program seemed to go on for hours.
T+08:30: I closed my laptop when the show was over. But now I was not at all sure that the worst was over. Trying for the toilet again, was just as precarious as it had been hours earlier.
T+12:00: So I stayed still until about 21:00 hrs. By then, the worst of the effects had passed.
T+14:00: Around 23:00 hrs. I felt tired enough to try to go to bed. But when I got there, my head was buzzing so much that I decided against it. Also, my bed is a loft bed, and I sleep naked. My skin still felt anesthetized and I feared I might lose control of my bowels.
I started thinking that if I died in my sleep that night, it would be unfortunate for whoever found me, to have to deal with getting the body down. So I climbed back down, put my clothes back on, and lay down in the couch. I think I fell asleep quite quickly after that.
T+23:00: I woke up around 08:00 the next morning, with a screaming headache. I made a cup of coffee, and was on my way down the stairs to smoke a cigarette outside, when I realized that my depth perception as still off and that I still felt partially digital.
I did not like this experience and have no desire to repeat it. Not even at lower doses. I prefer euphoria to dysphoria. 40 mg of 3-MeO-PCE provided no great epiphanies during the trip.
40 mg of 3-MeO-PCE provided no great epiphanies during the trip.
However, over the course of the following seven days after the trip, certain parts of my own narrative became clear to me in unexpected ways. It allowed me to connect certain dots and to fill in certain gaps in my thinking both from my LSD years ago, but also in terms of the change in my life course. It even cleared up part of my psychotic break over four years ago. But this experience seemed to complete the circuit which was tripped in 1992, helping me to better understand my choices and troubles, and struggles.
On death and dying
This experience has modified my way of thinking about life, death, and rebirth, in a subtle but fundamental way. LSD showed me that dying is like the biggest homecoming I could ever imagine. That there is no god and there is nothing to fear. But that there is Mind. Perhaps a fitting term to describe soul, spirit, or a god. And caused me to consider the possibility of rebirth as something other than a human.
Is it the abundance of experiential opportunities of worlds like this world, which draws Mind to it? Perhaps other lifeforms in the universe are less rare in the than many believe. But worlds so exceptionally rich in flora and fauna as ours, are so rare. We are so lucky to be here.
I accept that the annihilation of cosmic proportions when this universe ends/begins a new iteration.
But 3-MeO-PCE suggested the possibility of being trapped between worlds. And that we could be annihilated through the manner of one's death; something I had not considered before.
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