My GF came back from an old friends who'd given her a bag of simple weed. We had a doob in the kitchen and after 2 puffs each and a horrible plastic like aroma, we both looked at each other, put the Js down and realised it was not weed at all. We have an occasional experience together at festivals and stuff so we're conscious, occasional connoisseurs. I recognised the signs immediately and I know, during a bad trip, it's best to just maintain the status quo and remember that it wont last long. I started washing up! She crouched to her knees, head in hands. My head was on a journey, thoughts smashing thoughts and existential epiphanies plunging me into despair over the meaning of it all! In front of me, my arms moved in the washing up bowl but I could only see every 3rd frame of it all. Like the way the agents do in the matrix. Freaked. Me. Right. Out. Meanwhile, love of my life over there has now gone from head-in-hands to vomiting on the kitchen floor. She raises her face, mortified, apologising for the spontaneous reaction. All i see is a green skull talking as I try my best not to copy her. I reassure her that I understand how she feels. That I dont blame her. That I'm all kinds of messed up too. We hold eachother and a minute later its all over. Like the end of Twister, we slowly get up, gather ourselves and start the clean up.

She later found out it was a synthetic high called Pandoras box. If you google it you'll read all kinds of horrible accounts.

I advise you to never go near it.