I don't want to go

This tale involves one my favourite chems, 2C-E, a couple of beers and the acclaimed psychedelic film "Yellow Submarine" by The Beatles.

Released in 1968, Yellow Submarine is one of the most acclaimed works of animation from the psychedelic era. It is almost legendary in the use of music, story and colour; and it is still one of my favourite animated films of all time.

2C-E –strange and wonderful stuff

First act: 2C-E

 

I had already loaded a cap with 15mg of pure snow white 2C-E and ingested it in the late morning, as I had finished the chores in the house the next six hours could be spent in "lalaland": no meetings, no articles to write, no deadlines, nobody to mind. Bliss. Joy.

The first couple of hours were fun "come-up pleasure". Visuals, amazing music enjoyment. Very pleasurable trip with no noticeable ill-effects. Surfed the net. Watched a black and white film. Lounged around.

I'm getting thirsty and it's time to get something to drink.

Second act: two beers and Yellow Submarine

 

As it was a hot summer afternoon, at T+3:00 I drank the two beers in a relatively short time, and then started watching Yellow Submarine –a thoroughly fascinating film whilst in a "different existential mindset".

The colours and the animation –even with the stereotypical psychedelic constructs of the 1960's– are absolutely brilliant and the music of The Beatles in the film is intense and very emotional.

"The Blue Meanies" – the villains of Yellow Submarine

Things were going well and I was glued to the screen with a perma-grin for almost the whole movie – until close to the end when one of my favourite numbers comes up: the end of the "Blue Meanies" when The Beatles perform "All You Need is Love"

Mesmerised and with the fully-dilated eyes glued on the screen, I went into a trance –I was very, very close to nirvana– and thought to myself in a comforting and almost loving way... "this must be a beautiful way to go once your number is up"

Bad move

 

Suddenly an intense panic attack came over me.

For a split second I felt I was drowning. I was agonising. I could feel my heart racing almost out of control –the ugly feeling of asphixia and panic you get when desperately trying to reach for air in a nightmare.

My experienced and fried brain went into "support mode" and I almost robotically switched the TV off, closed my eyes and –whilst still looking at all the closed-eyed visual fractals and spinning artifacts– started breathing deeply and evenly to calm down.

I thought about the cause of the unexpected bad funk. Because once you get it out of your system, it's gone forever and the trip can be turned around.

In my altered mind, the thought of "this must be a beautiful way to die" was transposed to "you are dying now" –and my primal survival instincts had kicked in, no doubt influenced by the copious 2C-E and boosted by the two king-sized bottles of beer.

I decided to kill off the trip with a couple of Valiums and a cold shower. Some coffee and rest, whilst listening to light classical music. That did it and by nighttime I was feeling exhausted but in a serviceable condition.


The moral of the story: even in a perfect set and setting you have to be careful. Even happy thoughts can hurt.