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Dr. Who seeds. Yeah, the name’s a trip—sci-fi nerds might expect a TARDIS-shaped nug or something, but nah. This is cannabis, not cosplay. Still, the strain’s got its own kind of time-warping magic. You smoke it, and suddenly it’s two hours later and you’re halfway through a bag of pretzels, watching reruns of some show you don’t even like. That kind of high.
These seeds? They’re hybrids. Real hybrids. Not that watered-down nonsense you get from gas station carts or whatever. Dr. Who comes from Mad Scientist and Timewreck—both heavy hitters in their own right. So yeah, it’s got that fruity funk on the nose, like overripe pineapple left in a sock drawer. Sounds gross. Smells amazing. Tastes like candy with a side of diesel. Or maybe the other way around. Depends on the phenotype, honestly.
Growing them’s not for the lazy. You can’t just toss these in a pot and hope for the best. They’re finicky—like, moody teenager finicky. Indoor growers get the best results, but if you’ve got the patience and a decent outdoor setup, they’ll still reward you with dense, trichome-blasted buds that look like they’ve been rolled in sugar and static electricity. Flowering time? Around 8–9 weeks. Not too long, not too short. Just enough time to forget you planted them and then get surprised when they’re ready.
And the high? It’s weird. In a good way. Starts in the head—like a balloon inflating behind your eyes—and then slowly drips down your spine. You feel it in your knees. Your thoughts get weird. Not paranoid-weird, more like “what if dogs dream in color?” kind of weird. Creative types love it. So do people who just want to zone out and listen to old records or stare at ceiling fans. It’s not couch-lock, but it’s not get-up-and-clean-the-garage either. Somewhere in between. Like floating in a warm bath of your own brain juice. Gross metaphor, but you get it.
Medical folks use it for stress, anxiety, pain—same as a hundred other strains. But this one’s got personality. It doesn’t just numb you. It makes you feel like you’re somewhere else entirely. Somewhere better. Or at least weirder. And sometimes that’s all you need.
I’ve grown it once. Maybe twice. Lost count. The smell during flowering is intense—like someone spilled fruit punch on a tire fire. Neighbors might ask questions. Or compliments. Depends on the neighborhood. Keep your filters clean and your excuses ready.
Anyway. Dr. Who seeds. They’re not for everyone. But if you like your weed with a side of existential curiosity and a sprinkle of “what the hell was I just saying?”—this might be your jam.