Citation: UncleHorneyToad. "The Edge of the Room: An Experience with PCP (exp34595)". Erowid.org. Dec 13, 2007. erowid.org/exp/34595
||(powder / crystals)
This is a report of taking way too much PCP, back in the old days. I was 16, and I'd been taking LSD and PCP on the weekends for a year or so. Sometimes we would combine them, but on this night there was only the dust. We would save the acid for the next day.
My brother worked at a big factory, and on Fridays he would bring some dust home for us. We would split up the powder and either put the 'line' (I don't remember that word being in use yet then) on our tongues and wash it down with some apple juice or, after tasting it a few too many times, we would usually dissolve it in the apple juice.
The time was that Pink Floyd The Wall had just been released, and we had only listened too it a few times. On this weekend, the little piles looked a lot bigger than before, and it was more white than the usual off yellow. I remember us talking about that for a minute, but of course we just decided that it must not be very strong, so we took it down with the apple juice. It was always the case that my brother would take his and then I would move over and take my little pile of powder off the table. So there was maybe a minute, at most two or three, between the two doses. This becomes significant later.
After taking it, on an empty stomach, we knew we had 20 or 40 minutes to wait, and we usually just went about whatever. Rolling Joints - we knew we wouldn't be able to do this later. Finding albums to listen to. I remember on this occasion I decided to go and get a black light out of my room upstairs and move it to the basement, where my brother's room was. It took me maybe 10 minutes to do this, and when I got down to the basement, my brother was in dire shape, falling out of his chair in front of the stereo. I looked at him, and all I can remember was thinking, 'Oh shit!'
The rest of the night was a blurr, I know I fell face forward onto the bed and laid there for at least an hour. My brother thought I was dead and pulled me up and got me walking, but we both were just too stoned to function. I remember that the corner of the room in the basement looked like someone had pulled it way out of perspective, like it stretched for miles, and every thing would happen, and then it would happen again and again, and I was standing knee-deep in this swirling goo and the same song was playing over and over again. I didn't have any recollection of anything, especially having taken any drug. I couldn't make any sense out of anything, it just swirled around me. At first I tried to fight it, I thought something was seriously wrong. No-one can really exist like this, with no memory and no existance, and everything happening again and again. So, I decided I was dead.
It wasn't so bad really, once you let go, just the echoes and the warm swirly feeling. I regretted that I couldn't seem to move, and that my brother seemed so concerned, but it was okay. Being dead was really okay. The whole night was this really fast-paced, sweaty hallucination blur. I think I can't understand it in 'normal' consciousness. Every now and then I'd 'wake up' and my brother would still be sitting there next to the stereo, with an astonished look on his face. I think this is the anaesthetic part makes everyone's face relax and look really weird - big eyes and open mouth, not to mention what it looks like when the world is swirling - and it almost looks like your face is melting off your head. I would just try again to get up and fall back into being dead. All the angles were wrong, and the music sounded like it was coming through a long sewer pipe, and everything was just, well, not real.
It wasn't until daylight was coming in the basement windows - probably at least 6 hours later - that I finally managed to try to talk - I couldn't because my mouth wasn't human and I was just coming back from the dead. Between the hallucinations and the numbness and the dry throat it was like being an alien. It took a while, and after a little bit of wine (Beer fizzes up with the dust) we could communicate enough to turn off the stereo and just stare at each other, eyelids drooping from the anaesthetic, and just wonder what had really just happened.
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