Citation: kropotkinite. "The Most Intense Visual Experience Possible: An Experience with 2C-B (exp8105)". Erowid.org. Jul 16, 2001. erowid.org/exp/8105
||(powder / crystals)
I've recently discovered Erowid and found that the files for certain substances might benefit from descriptions of my experiences. For instance, there's a psychedelic that at Reed College (a very intellectual and psychedelic small liberal arts school in Portland, Oregon where a student reportedly invented and first synthesized bromo in the 1960s) is called 'bromo' or 'bromo mescaline.' I've read elsewhere that it's the same as 2-CB, which I will assume it probably is. The 2-CB files don't do bromo justice, though, because the experience reports describe oral dosing, but bromo's true power can only be harnessed by snorting.
So: over a decade ago I was a student at Reed. My friends and I obtained some bromo from M.B., a dearly departed wonderful man whom Reedies from the late 80s will recall with love and mourning. M.B. knew that we were all experienced acid veterans and he knew of my propensity for taking big doses of things, so he gave us hits bigger than the recommended 25 mg. We'd heard about the intense pain caused by snorting bromo ('getting kicked in the face by a psychedelic mule' was a common description), so we were wary. I was the promoter of the experiment so I went first. I snorted the hit, told my friends 'it's not all that bad,' and walked to the other end of the student union to pick up a guitar. Then it started: searing pain, as hydrobromic acid ate away my nasal passages and sinuses. Agony. (S. and R., having heard me say it wasn't so bad, were now snorting their doses). 'This is hellish' I told them, and their eager-to-trip smiles changed into expressions of fright. D., not joining the trip, watched all this with amusement.
Meanwhile, I was ramping up, my body speeding and rushing as if I'd just freebased a gram of blow and topped it off with a fat line of meth. I distractedly plucked at the guitar and the tones sounded as if they came from far, far away. Intense rushes coursing through my body, I put the guitar down and stepped onto the SU porch. On the distant horizon I could see stormclouds of swirling colors and shapes. The hallucinatory cloudbank was approaching with hurricane speed and increasing in velocity, coming from every direction toward me, such that I was at the center of a rapidly shrinking circle of relatively lucid sensory perception. Along with intense body rushes I was getting nauseous and my stomach was spasming. The storm of visuals closed in on me from 360 degrees, and at the very moment that it enveloped me, my stomach muscles clenched hard and I projectile-vomited, sending my dinner 6 feet across the porch onto the grass below a nearby tree.
Now immersed in the most intense visuals that I've ever experienced on any pschedelic (and I've done almost all of them), I saw my spout of vomit as a luminescent stream of gorgeous rich colors and rapidly spinning, rapidly ever-changing geometric shapes. I was humbled and awed by my vomit's beauty. The pain from the snort now seemed like a distant memory of an insignificant triviality, its intensity dwarfed by the intensity of the swirling tornado of intricate visuals I was now experiencing. I can't even begin to describe it, so I won't cheapen the visual experience by attempting to describe what cannot be put into words. I returned to the SU and although I was literally almost blinded by visuals, I could make out the image of S. and R. holding their noses in pain. 'This is unbelievably beautiful,' I told them, 'no amount of acid could ever produce visions like this.'
Remarkably, there was very little headtrip, so I could lucidly and rationally and calmly contemplate what was happening to my sensorium. Despite the relatively slight headtrip of the sort that psychedelics normally produce, there was a deeply spiritual aspect to the trip. I could strongly sense the presence of Mescalito or whatever entity had overseen my peyote and mescaline trips in the past (and who was never present for acid or mushroom trips). Six or seven hours later, S. and I had returned to our group house and went for a walk in the nighborhood, smoking a fat one of the kind northern lights indica. The intensity had passed and we felt like we had almost come down. 'Now the visuals are down to about the equivalent of 6 or 8 [100-mic] hits of acid,' I remarked. 'Or maybe 10,' S. replied.
Although I've taken hundreds of psychedelic trips, I never did bromo again -- the one extremely intense experience was enough for me -- but my life was never quite the same after that night. I recommend snorting bromo ONLY to experienced and intrepid psychonauts. Others should consume it orally, which causes effects more comparable to mescaline or acid, or not at all.
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