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Nice Night in the Treehouse
Opium & Cannabis
by Cole
Citation:   Cole. "Nice Night in the Treehouse: An Experience with Opium & Cannabis (exp35637)". Erowid.org. Mar 2, 2007. erowid.org/exp/35637

 
DOSE:
  repeated smoked Opium (tar / resin)
    repeated smoked Cannabis (plant material)

BODY WEIGHT: 150 lb


Tremendous high last night at HD - took a while to get me there, but after about 5-6 bongs of opium and 2-3 strong joints, and 90 minutes, I was gloriously spannered. My very favourite part of these experiences is the visual element, especially the clever and hugely entertaining ways I find to alter my perceptions of my surroundings. This begins with mild to heavy 'visuals', by which I think people mean hallucinatory effects which render flexible the visual apprehension of objects and patterns. Most, or almost all of my visuals, are animal-based: a pattern on the glass door of the hi-fi unit became, in turn, a peacock, a boy riding the peacock while playing the bongo, a cutlery set, a large fish passing in front of the legs of the peacock, etc.

The best thing about these visuals, apart from the quality whereby they mutate so imaginatively and effortlessly, is the totally *convincing* nature of each individual perception - 'Of course it's a monkey playing the dulcimer, and I'm just stunned that I've never noticed that before, because it can't possibly be anything else!' As if the entire universe had become a particularly fertile Rorschatt blott.

This fun and games I always enjoy unreservedly, as there are rarely negative or paranoid patterns in my visions, but they have a big brother, only accessible under a much stronger high. I got there last night. I became quite recklessly forgetful of where I was, focussing and fantasising freely upon the moment.

Walking around is great - I only agreed to go home because that's where my Minidisc was - because I was able to convince myself that any visual/fantasy experience I had could be made *real*. For a few seconds, if I really let this take over, I can convince myself pretty absolutely that I'm not just walking into my resort, but that this is a hillside residence I've been invited to on the coast of Tunisia [though I was in Thailand at the time] - everything, for a moment, then combined to make this alternative reality come alive. I *feel* like I'm in Tunisia. Or, about to walk into a Columbian drug lord's hacienda for the final showdown - and then the sounds, sensations and visual aspects all click seemlessly together and I'm really *there*.

I could trick my brain, for a few sentences, to believe that the Thai being spoken on TV was actually English. It worked, after a fashion. But there was a barrier to this, a face and voice which appeared and strongly intoned 'Do NOT try to extend the vision'. If I tried to, this face would return. So, I just rode along for the brief moments of each experience, always wishing to extend it, to create more visual alterations so that the drug lord's hacienda would be recreated in full, but it never worked.

Music, however, is unfailing. I had made my choice before going out to dinner - Adams. I'd had a number of tremendously involved, very stoned, musical experiences over the last week or two, with Bach's B Minor Mass and Rautavarra's staggering 'Cantus Arcticus'. As my composing skills develop, I love these fine, highly-concentrated listenings for the clear insight they provide into compositional methods, orchestration, harmony and, somewhat, structure.

Never was this more true than when listening to Adams 'El Dorado' and his Violin Concerto. I was able to answer an important question - Yes, Adams does know what he's doing. He's not just scribbling down any old partially-tonal idea that he can think of. The almost complete lack of melody, which is the linchpin of my own music, instead affords him an opportunity to organise his sounds in new ways, namely harmonically.

It became true that I could to the same, because I felt like I'd watched Adams do it. Marvellous. No wonder getting high promotes artistic experiment and changes in musical direction - you get a sneak peak of how to do it, and of how satisfying and fun it's going to be, before you even think about sitting down to write. I adore all of this and it likes me straight back.

I described pot, years ago, as having done something 'identifiably negative to the inside of my head'. I hereby assert the reverse - even the paradise of [place name] is made more heavenly when high, and I feel creatively boosted, as if I could turn my hand, now, to any art or pursuit I can name. I think I'll stick with music, though, and lots of it.

(The Following Night)

At the tail end of a pretty massive opium and pot high. Describing this is useful in several ways: it is curious to see how pot and opium affect the way I write; it was a super evening, worthy of being adequately recorded,; and tonight's high was very different to last night's, in interesting ways.

We smoked almost all of the remainder of our second gram, 15-20 chillums' worth, and I had 3-4 strong joints of my own. Firstly, one of the biggest differences from last night was my level of concentration an lucidity, created in part by drinking two cans of iced coffee, which was excellent for stopping me from spacing out as totally as I had last night. This felt very high, but alert and able to carry out tasks (skinning up, and even walking home smoothly and successfully) and hold down relatively elaborate conversations (about 'Fahrenheit 911', which we found on DVD today).

This was pleasing. I hated the exhausted, monged-out state I was in last night, but that kind of high might be necessary to achieve the more convincing visuals I had yesterday. Tonight's were gentler, still persuasive and still entertaining, especially two roses on a mattress which became tomato-headed guards on patrol, or two ornate dragons which became bisons, a depiction of hell and other odd creatures but there was not the immersion in inventive fantasies I so relished, and tried to extend, yesterday.

I *was* able, quite briefly, to persuade myself that we were in Mexico, not Thailand, but having explained this relocation to J, in an attempt to stimulate her own hallucinations, it vanished.

[There is a lot more about the film]. I ramble, and I tire. A superb night. A little music now, and a long, deep sleep.

Exp Year: 2004ExpID: 35637
Gender: Male 
Age at time of experience: Not Given 
Published: Mar 2, 2007Views: 17,389
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Opium (63), Cannabis (1) : General (1), Music Discussion (22), Combinations (3), Small Group (2-9) (17)

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