Citation: Mr. Banker. "Vibrations, Bad Ones: An Experience with Cannabis (exp2766)". Erowid.org. Dec 16, 2001. erowid.org/exp/2766
Although I had only started smoking Cannabis 3 months prior, I had smoked a fair amount (at least 3 times a week, buying a new quarter to half ounce a week) since my first experience.
Although my experiences with this drug before had been amazing, tiring, but none-the-less, amazing.
The night started out with a brand new bag (I would say about 1/2 ounce). The stuff my friend had scored this time was claimed to have been 'Chocolate'. A very mellow, very slick high. Myself and two friends included sat down in my small room, me of course taking the only seat, the other two sitting either on the floor or my bed. Because it was I who paid for most of the stuff, I got the first toke.
The high came quick, within 5-15 minutes, I was almost completely ripped. And with the first circle completed, we head out onto my porch for a quick tabaco-cigarette (which, by the way, I don't smoke cancer sticks). So we sat there, having a nice conversation about the weather and work, and what not. This was about the time the one of my friends got up after finishing his cigarette, worried that someone was calling him at home. He was so fucked that his ears were telling him that he could hear the phone call (even though his house was a direct 2 mile way of the crow, and 5 miles way of the road). He had a time finding his way home he told me the next day. My remaining friend and myself stayed on the porch for awhile, noting that perhaps we shouldn't have let my other friend leave, especially under his condition.
We headed back into the house, holding onto what appeared to be the last of our unstoned mental state. Which really impressed me about this bud, it was extremely potent. We sat down at my dinner table, in the dining room, and had ourselves a few beers, both admiring the high-quality cannabis. About ten minutes, we struck up some more cannabis, which pushed me over the line into stoned-mode. A little bit giggly, my friend turned on television, but promptly turned it off, after losing interest in FOX's quality entertainment. He returned back at the table, at which I was reading something on my favorite topics, Astro-Physics. My father was a Ph.D. in Physics, and he had gotten me interested in that subject.
I was just completing a essay on Black Holes, and their effects on the principle of 'constant-matter' (being that, there is a set amount of matter in this universe, and that amount can't be lessed, or heightened), when my friend got done packin' the pipe. I was uninterested with the thought of smoking anymore, but with a bit of nagging from my friend, I toked up. After his toke, he immediately packed it again, and I was quite upset, being that I wasn't interested in smoking anymore on the previous toke. But I figured, what the hell... and preceded to toke up.
Jefferson Airplane come on the stereo with my Mixed CD with 'White Rabbit'. And with this song, I lost all reason. My friend and myself continued smoking... I believe we smoked half the bag (which would be 1/4 ounce) in that night. After the last toke, I had begun to get dizzy, and loosing the ability to measure time. I became totally and utterly fucked.
I remained there, at that extremely longated table, and talked with my friends about gibberish. He talked about Jesus and God, and how God had put a price on his head, angel-bounty hunters out for his death. He became panicked quite a few times, but calmed down each time.
After staring at the stereo's GEQ for some period, those high-low bars bouncing up and down with the rhythm of the songs, I looked back at my friend, and became totally horrified with the site I saw...
The walls, the table, chairs, television, computer, papers, lights, lambs, and plants all began vibrating at high speeds. Not unlike one of those expensive electric toothbrushes. My friends face became unrecognizable, and everyone of my senses had been lost, smells were unidentifiable, my stereo became unbareable racket, the table's texture caused my skin to crawl. Every part of reality made me insane with anxiety.
Over a period of time that I can only calculate to be about 30-40 minutes, I became exhausted and passed out. My friend showed himself out. The next day was a day for gathering the shattered pieces of my memory from the previous night. Both friends commenting on the harshness of the experience, although my friend who left early had no right to say such things compared to my brutal experience.
All-in-all, a learning experience. An experience that changed the way I think of drugs. That moderation is the best bet.
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