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The Mad Doctor is in
by cheeseman
Citation:   cheeseman. "The Mad Doctor is in: An Experience with DOC (exp83184)". Oct 25, 2011.

3 hits oral DOC (blotter / tab)


[Erowid Note: A substance(s) in this report might be identified incorrectly. Erowid reviewers question the author's identification of the drug described. Although the report is included in the collection, the substance might be something other than the author believed it to be.]

There were some days two years ago that I could describe in my psychedelic career as 'reckless.' Many others would come to such a similar conclusion as well, I'm sure. Recklessness was certainly the case when it comes to my foray into the mad doctor's world of deconstructed reality.

It was a cold december day, I'm with two good friends, and one friend's kid brother, who didn't partake. We have a ten strip blotter of DOC laid out not an hour ago by a trusted fellow psychonaut. Potency unknown, none of us seemed to have that particular question cross into conscious thought at any time. The slick white snippet of porous paper looks so innocuous; no average person would think that one of the most psychedelically confusing and overwhelming chemicals ever to grace this earth lay upon it. The strip is carefully chopped into nine almost equivalent bits, I take all three of mine and place them on the tongue.

'That may not have been a good idea.' What an ingenious thing to nonchalantly state to someone who just plunged an unknown quantity of psychedelia into their body. My friends aren't the most intelligent people on this planet by a long shot and they're not too well versed and the yes and no's of tripping. That one was definitely a no no.

Within 15 minutes first alerts become noticeable, ok, so it's definitely real, I'm officially satisfied with this purchase (not a cheap one either!). Slight buzzing in the peripherals, and an almost anxious energy pulsating through my nervous system. Hot damn i'm in for a wild ride this night. These initial effects gradually intensify over the next hour and a half, with the constant threat that an overbearing peak is building up its energies to punch my brain with such immense forces that I in my 19 years have never since fathomed. I liken this stage to the first chain-lift hill on a massive rollercoaster. now imagine the chain-lift is on the fritz and you have no idea when you'll take the plunge but you sure as shit know that it's coming. Yeah, can be a bit unnerving.

Fear and Loathing is on, and i take notice to the now highly visual effects of DOC as duke's attorney flails his arms about in some kind of drug-induced psychotic fit, tracers don't describe the afterimages i'm seeing. I am utterly tuned to this phenomenon. MOVING MY HEAD SLIGHTLY produces profoundly marked tracers, deliciously colorful clone images not fading but simply duplicating. I stare at the floor, and I get that stomach drop feeling much like the very last second before the rollercoaster train plummets downward at incomprehensible speed. here we go.

The floor isn't breathing or pulsating or waving or anything that I've oft used to describe the psychedelic distortion of the world. Little marks and engravings in the wood run together and back apart and toward me then away from me and now I notice that the whole room is doing this 'fuck your brain' dance. Now this is a very hallucinogen friendly room, lots of eye candy, mostly writing. But damn if this chemical doesn't take the word dyslexia to a new level. I can not read anything I look at or even focus on it for that matter, everything is moving too much for me to even attempt to keep up. My emotions dither out and all of us remain almost silent for quite some time, basking in the almost incredulous nature of what is occurring here and now. I remember repeating the phrase 'it just kind of hit me like a hallucinogenic freight train' because my mind was still in awe at how quickly this immensity of effect crashed down on me and totally swallowed me in its completely alien character.

I step into the bathroom, because I believe that my body is telling me I have to urinate but i'm not entirely sure of whether or not it's lying to me. Better make sure. I never make it to the toilet but i did stand in the bathroom for an unknown amount of time, completely forgetting this rather simple and not in any way arbitrary task; I am blown away by the nature of what is unfolding in my head. The patterning on the walls melts into itself then back out then does some more things that I can not properly describe using this limited lingual system. I stare at the floor, and menacing red needles adorn the entirety of my view of the ground. They shoot up toward me but I have no fear. I think I forgot what fear was at this point. Blank stare in my eyes with mouth slightly slacked open and head cocked to the side, yeah, I was pretty immobile emotionally. More or less a completely unbiased observer of this calamity of colors clashing in so many inconceivable ways.

Out of the bathroom, fear and loathing is still on. I can't properly absorb anything emanating from the television; after staring for several seconds or minutes or i don't know, it becomes a soup of colour and an audio range of gibberish tongues reminiscent of a pentecostal ceremony. I give up on the movie; I've seen it a thousand times and those thousand times I watched I was physically able to see and hear it. Much of what happens beyond this is a little fuzzy, but I do know I started coming down when the sun started coming up. All in all, the peak lasted from about one in the morning til six.

I was emotionally unmoved and noticeably slower the entire next day, unable to show much interest in anything because I had the distinct and before-unknown feeling that my mind had gone ten rounds with the chemical muhammad ali. Don't get me wrong, it was all in all a great experience despite no insights whatsoever, but this drug is not for the weak of soul or mind.

If I can accurately summarize the entire night in a sentence, I'll recall what my friend's fourteen year old brother (the sober one) said at one point in the night; 'I feel like an airplane!' as he ran around with his arms extended outward, to which I could only reply 'YOU feel like you're an airplane, man you're an rc plane and i'm a fucking boeing 757 right now.'

Exp Year: 2008ExpID: 83184
Gender: Male 
Age at time of experience: 19 
Published: Oct 25, 2011Views: 17,784
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DOC (357) : Small Group (2-9) (17), First Times (2), General (1)

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