Citation: bindingaffinity. "Tunnelling Through the Memory Hole: An Experience with Cannabis (edibles) (exp115345)". Erowid.org. Apr 13, 2021. erowid.org/exp/115345
I have had an inconsistent history with edibles. My first couple experiences (at 5mg and 7.5mg THC) were great, my next experience (at 10mg) was overwhelming in an unpleasant and anxiety-provoking way, and since then I've stuck to the low end of edibles dosing, usually in the 2.5-4mg range.
But one day it hit me—CBD can make an intense high after smoking less overwhelming and unpleasant, so what about using it with edibles? So I procured some CBD chocolates from a local herb store, measured at 25mg per chocolate. I was aiming for as close to a 1:1 ratio of THC to CBD as possible, but I think I got closer to 12.5mg since I simply broke off half of the chocolate. The THC edibles were from a bag of THC chocolates, with 5mg THC per chocolate. They were a couple years old at this point but as this experience shows, they were still potent.
Around 4 PM, I consumed my full dose—two THC chocolates and half of the CBD chocolate. I washed it down with some blueberries to rid my mouth of the cannabis aftertaste.
Then I lay down on my bed, laptop on my lap and cat curled up by my feet, unaware of what I was about to experience.
At T+55 minutes, I am definitely high. Music sounds unusually psychedelic, my head feels heavy and I want to be still, and I keep forgetting which part of my body my cat is on. I spend the next 4 minutes, which felt like 10 minutes, remembering and then forgetting I have to get up to pick up a package.
Ten minutes later, First Narrows (a song by ambient artist Loscil, which has many emotional associations to me and which I haven't listened to much for many years) begins to play on shuffle, and I feel like I'm going to explode or cry. I have memories of every misty drive along the coast or through the forest rushing through me. I very much want to be in another place now, and it almost feels like I can.
Associations become loosened, topics disjoint. Thoughts become imagistic. Every mental image has the texture of a dream. My dreams pulse through my head. Fine concentric symmetric polygons in green and purple lace my vision. As I make a note of that, I begin to type "red and yellow" instead of green and purple.
I remember the aquarium. My hands chill as I plunge them into the touch tank. I feel the velvet of the stingray and the rough chitin of the decorator crab, see the bat star's deep maroon. I smell the salt air of the sea. I must disturb my reverie, which I do not want to, to write a note of this.
I am still on the road, between the trees. I feel my heart quiver with a familiar bittersweet sickness.
I am in the halls of a college I never attended, dreaming of my alternate future. Then I am in my dorms, living through my past.
I see my future. I see myself at my desk, with a toxicology problem set and my musical instruments set in front of me.
The music is pummelling me with emotions. I have not felt this passion, this sickly syrup stirring, in quite some time, and even now I know it to be an echo of what I had once felt. Some passion lost when, exactly? When was the last time I had this feeling?
I continue to relive memories, many summers sewn together.
Memories that I didn't even know I had. Memories of play. The world gains depth and enchantment, ceases to be flat and concrete.
By T+2:00, I become much too absorbed in these reveries to continue journaling. Two hours later, I begin feeling more sober and engaging more with the external world but I still am connecting to tons of old memories and feelings, including some I had not thought about in many years. I can still close my eyes and I'm at the aquarium, or the zoo, or the planetarium. I cover them and focus on what I am actually seeing, and phosphenes try to resolve themselves into geometric shapes but fail.
By T+5:30, I'm mostly just regular high. I think I got three or four hours of really solid good trip out of that, which is excellent for such benign and easily obtained material. There's still a nostalgia, a psychological richness hanging in the air like an occult influence. But it's also very easily ignorable. The stoning is still hard to ignore. ++, but a different *kind* of ++.
At T+6:30, the feelings are gone. Only a shade remains. I miss them but it's honestly hard to feel anything right now. I've become aware of how colorless my day-to-day really is, how the one feeling I really chase after has almost vanished from my life. I'm a little worried there's no other way to get it back.
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