Review Erowid at GreatNonprofits.org
Help us be a "Top Rated Nonprofit" for the 10th year in a row
and spread info about psychoactive drugs, health, culture, & policies.
("Share Your Story" link. Needs quick login creation but no verification of contact info)
Methduced Insomania, or How Rygar Returns
Methamphetamine, Sleep Deprivation & Cannabis
by Pseudocircle
Citation:   Pseudocircle. "Methduced Insomania, or How Rygar Returns: An Experience with Methamphetamine, Sleep Deprivation & Cannabis (exp8404)". Erowid.org. Nov 16, 2004. erowid.org/exp/8404

 
DOSE:
  smoked Methamphetamine
    smoked Cannabis

BODY WEIGHT: 180 lb


The following occurred at the tail end of a two and a half day crystal festival – one of those whimsical little vacations from sleep, food, and coherence that I had been indulging on and off for a week or two.

In accordance with the final days of these festivals - the sleep-deprived hallucinations already graced whatever spot I chose to fix my eyes upon for longer than a couple of seconds.

[--- I quite enjoyed these hallucinations - which were of a different kind than acidic visuals - usually taking the form of tightly knit little bundles of transparent sticks (very much like the little protazoan floaters I have had ever since I started wearing contact lenses, which become most apparent when staring into a uniform light source) that first spin counter-clockwise into appearance whenever and wherever I happen to rest my eyes. Resting my eyes is synonymous and simultaneous with the little spinning sticks catching my eye – and as I continue to marvel at the center of the branchy whirlpool, the radius of their rotation expands and slows until the sticks take on the form of something I recognize – sometimes transparent crayfish like creatures, or other mildly threatening (depending on my mood) insectoid or living flow-chart-like whatsits. This tangible quality of the visuals pleased me – in contrast to the more typical melting or shifting of my previous hallucinatory nights and days. ---]

The sun had risen a couple of hours before and my crew of self-supporting, giggling cohorts and I were basking in the delight of yet another sunrise we would see together thanks to our child-like foray into the smoking glass (we hadn’t missed one for almost a week). One of my buddies whipped out a bowl and started passing it around. Not everyone was at the same stage of the crystal festival – some were just starting out, some had reached the thirty-six hour checkpoint, and I was leading the pack and nearing the finale with somewhere near sixty hours under my belt. Someone told me - 'Ohhhh… you are in for a big surprise.' - as he passed me the bowl – something about really strange things occuring when combining methduced sleep-deprivation and marijuana. These encouraging warnings piqued my excitement – so I took multiple large hits from the little pipe – several times coughing with overeagerness.

Then it got interesting.

I lost interest in the laughter around me and wandered inside. When I returned my gaze to the white wall that had previously served as the screen for my sticky hallucinations, I now noticed a purple-blue flower growing on the wall near the ceiling. Following the flower I noticed a slowly moving blue slug on the ground creeping towards me. I stood bewilderblissed for a couple seconds, blinked my eyes a couple times, and then turned around to see what was lurking on the other side of the room. Similar strange little living objects were growing and moving behind me – but there were more on the other side than I cared to notice, so I turned back to the flower and slug and noticed them sitting, quivering in the selfsame spot I had seen them before. The flower was pretty, but the slowpproaching slug bothered me a little. I held onto enough reality to hopefully know that the slug was just a blue piece of paper on the ground, and the flower was a blue and purple piece of paper taped to the wall.

Just to make sure of my safety from the slug – I ran up to him and kicked him and then ran away again. My hopes were confirmed, the slug shed his sluggish nature and returned to the piece of paper I knew was his essence. After this I walked up to the flittering flower and scared her back into her paper nature as well. Sanity secured – I decided to rush over to the piano on the other side of the room – avoiding noticing as many of the other little plants and slugs that lurked inside the multivarious litter strewn across the room.

The night before, I had for the first time in over a decade sat down in front of a piano and played around. I enjoyed the experience tremendously – it was the my first attempt to touch a musical instrument since my first and only musical training at the age of five with a narcoleptic French woman who would sleep while I practiced. I never ended up pursuing the music because video games overwhelmed my passion at the time.

Music offered a tantalizing prospect in my then super-hallucinatory mode.

I was messing around with some solo-like somethings with my right hand (I love female vocalists) and throwing in some deep resonating left hand in between – all of it done with the right pedal held down (I love resonating echoes). All the same little stick-drawing microscopic insects that showed themselves the night before were still there [notches on the piano], including a couple fascinating decaying holes on the ivory keys [notches in the keys]. They never interfered with my playing – so I just ignored them.

The playing was fun but I ran up against the musical obstacle of being unable to synchronize my right hand playing with my left. I played harder – trying to synch them together until… bang!

I have no specific memory per se of the moment when my hands began playing together but I remember describing it soon afterwards like a waterfall. After that moment, the keyboard became transparent – much like the keyboard I am typing on right now – meaning, I did not see the keys as keys which I was struggling to hit in order to make the right music – the music was just flowing out of me.

I played very, very hard and very, very loud and very, very beautifully for some amount of time afterwards. What I was playing, how long I was playing, and where I was during that amount of time has vibrated off somewhere in the cosmos – and all I remember was, it was good.

But then it got – really - interesting.

Whenever it was that I stopped playing and finally stood up (my hands had begun hurting), I looked back onto those white walls around me that had held slugs and flowers and what not. Now, instead of colorful slugs and flowers, I saw sparkling transparent video game images projected onto whatever white surface I happened to glance on. The phenomenon was so strange that I walked outside to look at the walls of the building and there they still were, the disconnected images just kept on moving, shooting, jumping, running, flying, falling, and zooming around. I remember recognizing a specific character from the Nintendo game Rygar – one of my personal favorites as a child.

I figure that my brain shit out the interminable years of eight to twelve hour days in front of a light box onto my visual field as soon as I reconnected with the musical passion that preceded the electronic obsession. Since then, in moments of meditative calm, I have seen other little traces of those video games – each time coinciding with a moment of spiritual growth.

For the record, it wasn’t the meth that did it – it was the sleep deprivation that placed me in a fertile state for planting the marijuana into my brain. (I wouldn’t even call meth a drug anymore - all it seems to do it make my body forget to close its eyes). And I wouldn’t recommend meth to anyone – my body needs sleep, and without it I become a panicky fool. Someday I’ll write up the other meth experience when because of not sleeping for days I managed to convince myself a homeless man had hypnotized and brainwashed me. I slept and then I figured out I was just a panicky fool.

I used to love speculating on what this means about our minds, our development, and who we are – but after I got bored talking about life rather than living and learning from it – all I have done since that day is run and sing and love and grow and play.

Exp Year: 2001ExpID: 8404
Gender: Male 
Age at time of experience: Not Given 
Published: Nov 16, 2004Views: 22,414
[ View as PDF (for printing) ] [ View as LaTeX (for geeks) ] [ Switch Colors ]
Methamphetamine (37), Sleep Deprivation (140) : Music Discussion (22), Combinations (3), Small Group (2-9) (17)

COPYRIGHTS: All reports are copyright Erowid and you agree not to download or analyze the report data without contacting Erowid Center and receiving permission first.
Experience Reports are the writings and opinions of the individual authors who submit them.
Some of the activities described are dangerous and/or illegal and none are recommended by Erowid Center.


Experience Vaults Index Full List of Substances Search Submit Report User Settings About Main Psychoactive Vaults