DOSE:

150 mg

oral

2C-B

(powder / crystals)

BODY WEIGHT:

135 lb

'N-benzylpiperazine dihydrochloride' the bottle read.

'Well, this certainly looks interesting', I thought to myself, twisting off the green cap to a reveal an off-white powder.

Having some personal experience with BZP, 150mg seemed in no way unreasonable as a dose. So, I weighed out the material, capped it in gelatin and down the shoot: here we go!!

At some point, as coalescing patterns of effervescent purple and blue light began slithering in greens and reds over otherwise mundane surfaces, something ominous occurred to me:

'ohmyod, what have I done to myself....surely this can't be BZP?'

Turns out, the bottle was 2C-B mislabeled and what follows is my confession:

Onset: 1hr;
Peak: 2-4hrs;
Descent: 4-6hours;
Aftereffects: up to the 12hour mark

Wave upon wave of white snows of clouds and skies...who is in here? Hands falling over the dashboard, we're on the road and the tire is flat...never again. I stumble upstairs in the hopes of finding some sort of activated charcoal or anything to abort the experience,

'I don't want this trip, I don't want it...'

I could perhaps count the number of steps I took in pacing up and down the hallway. Surely, there must be something to bring me back to where I was: where am I? A wave of authentic panic washes over me in brilliant frothing whites of bubbles, like a thousand little Mr. Cleans scrub, scrub, scrubbing. I stumble out onto the porch in hopes of finding some reprieve in the bitter cold midnight. My left side starts to give out and weaken and for a moment I feel I certainly must be dying.

Then, the strangest thing happens: I'm completely sober, calm if not baffled. Who is at the wheel here, I wonder? That emerging reality can only be described as a sort of devil at the gateway. This ecology of souls gathers around me, a composite of my deepest fears, anxieties, sorrows and darkness. Extending my awareness into the antipodes of the in and out breath, these beings began feeding on my breath.

My in breath is shallow, and a screaming rainbow demon comes wailing and moaning up through the wash of visions: gleaming runes of transdimensional language reaching out from the glistening baldness at his crown:

'read between the lines' he moans in anguish, as my earth eyes fall on a pile of red cherries: RED.

What is color but the crest of a breathing wave? Fusing into mauve's and purples and lavender's...what of irrational colors like number systems? what do these things tell us about the world we live in?

If the doors of perception were cleansed everything would appear to man as it is, infinite. —William Blake

But, not yet. The hairs on my arm stand up, and I find myself counting them: 1 and 1 is 2 and 1 is 3 and connecting these points is a triangle which closes in a certain space in time. The wailing demons of discontent rushing up through the ages:

'read between the numbers' they groan, chastising my small mindedness as I breath out.

My out breath is shallow, as my eyes fall on a nearby magazine: 'Yes, spiritual uprising' reads the title as my mind sinks into another cycle of coming and going. This continues for several hours, deep and intense, turning over numbers and letters in my mind.

In the end, I find myself going over the colors and the numbers, and there is something emerging from it all. What is that moment when the out breath empties and the in-breath has not yet begun? Our whole lives are spent catering to this hollow between the flickering instant of two realities when in fact, there is something from 1 to 2 to 3 to 4...up past 13 into what is infinite: colors between the greens and reds and browns, and the letters that give some illusory substance to what we think of as 'ourselves'.

I lay down, and toss myself what is obvious... it's not there,
between the lines... it is apparent yet nothing.

So, come to see: our demons are simply angels in disguise... between the lines, if that makes any sense at all. Anecdotally, two days later a large cyst I had on my left hand has completely vanished, prompting a doctor friend of mine to comment: 'wow, I've never seen a cyst of that size just spontaneously vanish like that!'

The moral of the story: properly label your bottles, make sure you know what you're taking...and expect the unexpected! May the thundering wonder of the OM-front blow you home! Az

Exp Year: 2005	ExpID: 48746
Gender: Male
Age at time of experience: Not Given
Published: Dec 14, 2005	Views: 38,443
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2C-B (52) : Small Group (2-9) (17), Overdose (29), General (1)