bluedolphin
Bluelight Crew
- Joined
- Feb 19, 2003
- Messages
- 6,064
This report is written retrospectively, and will likely serve as a better glimpse into Ketamine addiction than the subjective nature of either chemical. But, I will tell you what happened.
The year was 2000-and-something. I was in the midst of my worst living situation, my worst relationship, my worst pattern of general drug abuse, and also the greatest availability of drugs to me. None of these things are those which I have any intention of repeating.
Ketamine had become a way of life for me by this point. It had been like this for at least the last year. Solid, like this. And I mean, wake up: Do Ketamine. Do Ketamine. Do Ketamine. Do Ketamine. Eat a snack for breakfast. Do Ketamine. Do Ketamine. Take a shower. Do Ketamine. Do Ketamine. And so on, throughout the day. I didn't have a job at the time, and total irresponsibility was the name of the game.
So, yeah, I had a fair Ketamine tolerance. I could probably hole if I wanted to. Sometimes I still did. But they were shallow holes, not lasting as long. And it would take me probably sniffing a gram or two in quick succession to get there.
My girlfriend probably went out for the day. Or maybe she broke up with me or I broke up with her temporarily. Good riddance, now I can do more Ketamine with no scrutiny. Some hippies probably came over to waste time and offer me drugs. DMT, sure. When have I ever been offered DMT and not acquired any? No need to break tradition on this occasion. So then I had a few grams of DMT, or whatever it was.
I had this pipe. Well, it was my roommate's pipe. And originally a weed pipe. But one day I was fucked on Ketamine and decided to smoke DMT out of it. A day sort of like today would be. I gave the pipe back to him and he was pissed. Apparently I had ruined the flavor. I said I would clean it out for him, but no deal. I just bought that pipe.
So now I had a DMT pipe. Or, really, anything I wanted to put in it. It was my dirty-ass pipe. So I smoked a bunch of DMT out of it. I smoked 5-meo-DMT out of it. And I smoked some things that people shouldn't be smoking out of it. Never cleaned it out. If it got too clogged with DMT resin I'd just poke a hole through.
The hippies left. Good riddance. Now I don't have to listen to bullshit. I've got the place to myself. I'm sure I did a bunch of Ketamine at this point.
This was before the Ketamine was making me crazy. Like schizo-crazy. I still had a thread tied between my finger and reality. It was still a trip. Sure, an all day, every day trip. But I still knew it was a trip. This is important, because it means the Ketamine still gave me pleasurable, relaxing, spacey effects. Visuals, yep. Remarkable multidimensional thought processes, yep. So it occured to me after doing enough Ketamine, probably enough to be lying around fairly whacked out most way to a hole, that I should really just smoke as much DMT as is possible to smoke at once. While tripping on Ketamine.
Because the Ketamine made me fearless. If I'm sober, I get nervous at the thought of smoking DMT. I don't want to break through. I don't want to feel my skin burn. I don't want that rush of anxiety, that creeping feeling. But, I thought, fuck it. I'm high as shit on K already.
So I dumped as much DMT as could fit in the bowl, in the bowl. Brimmed it. Decent sized bowl, too. Now, I'm saying 200mg here. It was probably significantly more. It really doesn't matter, though.
Sparked it up. Licked it with the flame of my lighter, melted it down for the first hit. Probably a 100mg hit.
Immediately I felt like I was 150 degrees F. No, hotter. And melting. Or was everything else melting? I still had enough presence of mind to smoke more DMT. So I torched that bowl hard and took the biggest hit possible. Held it in until I forgot I was supposed to breathe.
What happened was really interesting. The world melted before my eyes. But it did so sort of slowly. Like fingers stretching down from the ceiling. Fingers which smudged a thick, fresh layer of oil paint, replacing what existed with divine art. As this happened, the feeling that washed over me was intense. WOW. WHOA. WOW.
It was as if, in the midst of my decadence and deviance, God had graciously taken up my haphazard invitation and taken the time to reach down his hand to fill me with the holy spirit.
Time was slowed down to the extent that it felt completely suspended. This oil painting was sparkling like a million diamonds. I was in the DMT room. And it was the holiest of cathedrals. It was heaven descended.
My body was filled with the strangest buzz. It felt like an alien frequency. Soon the melt was complete. Now, apparently it was time for geometry. Fractals, fractals, fractals. The DMT lasted the same amount of time it normally does. But afterwards I felt like a truly new person. This feeling would soon fade, as I would return quickly to my typical patterns of drug abuse and shitty lifestyle.
No breakthrough. No machine elves. No rocket into space. No anxiety. Just an instant ++++.
That is why I would smoke DMT on Ketamine. To get higher than otherwise possible, the easiest way possible. I did it because it was a religious experience. And I needed something to believe in.
Tagged by HeadphonesandLSD
substancecode_ketamine
substancecode_dissociatives
substancecode_dmt
substancecode_tryptamines
_combo_
explevel_experienced
explevel_retrospective
exptype_spiritual
exptype_addiction
roacode_nasal
roacode_smoked
roacode_inhaled
roacode_vaporized
roacode_inhaled
The year was 2000-and-something. I was in the midst of my worst living situation, my worst relationship, my worst pattern of general drug abuse, and also the greatest availability of drugs to me. None of these things are those which I have any intention of repeating.
Ketamine had become a way of life for me by this point. It had been like this for at least the last year. Solid, like this. And I mean, wake up: Do Ketamine. Do Ketamine. Do Ketamine. Do Ketamine. Eat a snack for breakfast. Do Ketamine. Do Ketamine. Take a shower. Do Ketamine. Do Ketamine. And so on, throughout the day. I didn't have a job at the time, and total irresponsibility was the name of the game.
So, yeah, I had a fair Ketamine tolerance. I could probably hole if I wanted to. Sometimes I still did. But they were shallow holes, not lasting as long. And it would take me probably sniffing a gram or two in quick succession to get there.
My girlfriend probably went out for the day. Or maybe she broke up with me or I broke up with her temporarily. Good riddance, now I can do more Ketamine with no scrutiny. Some hippies probably came over to waste time and offer me drugs. DMT, sure. When have I ever been offered DMT and not acquired any? No need to break tradition on this occasion. So then I had a few grams of DMT, or whatever it was.
I had this pipe. Well, it was my roommate's pipe. And originally a weed pipe. But one day I was fucked on Ketamine and decided to smoke DMT out of it. A day sort of like today would be. I gave the pipe back to him and he was pissed. Apparently I had ruined the flavor. I said I would clean it out for him, but no deal. I just bought that pipe.
So now I had a DMT pipe. Or, really, anything I wanted to put in it. It was my dirty-ass pipe. So I smoked a bunch of DMT out of it. I smoked 5-meo-DMT out of it. And I smoked some things that people shouldn't be smoking out of it. Never cleaned it out. If it got too clogged with DMT resin I'd just poke a hole through.
The hippies left. Good riddance. Now I don't have to listen to bullshit. I've got the place to myself. I'm sure I did a bunch of Ketamine at this point.
This was before the Ketamine was making me crazy. Like schizo-crazy. I still had a thread tied between my finger and reality. It was still a trip. Sure, an all day, every day trip. But I still knew it was a trip. This is important, because it means the Ketamine still gave me pleasurable, relaxing, spacey effects. Visuals, yep. Remarkable multidimensional thought processes, yep. So it occured to me after doing enough Ketamine, probably enough to be lying around fairly whacked out most way to a hole, that I should really just smoke as much DMT as is possible to smoke at once. While tripping on Ketamine.
Because the Ketamine made me fearless. If I'm sober, I get nervous at the thought of smoking DMT. I don't want to break through. I don't want to feel my skin burn. I don't want that rush of anxiety, that creeping feeling. But, I thought, fuck it. I'm high as shit on K already.
So I dumped as much DMT as could fit in the bowl, in the bowl. Brimmed it. Decent sized bowl, too. Now, I'm saying 200mg here. It was probably significantly more. It really doesn't matter, though.
Sparked it up. Licked it with the flame of my lighter, melted it down for the first hit. Probably a 100mg hit.
Immediately I felt like I was 150 degrees F. No, hotter. And melting. Or was everything else melting? I still had enough presence of mind to smoke more DMT. So I torched that bowl hard and took the biggest hit possible. Held it in until I forgot I was supposed to breathe.
What happened was really interesting. The world melted before my eyes. But it did so sort of slowly. Like fingers stretching down from the ceiling. Fingers which smudged a thick, fresh layer of oil paint, replacing what existed with divine art. As this happened, the feeling that washed over me was intense. WOW. WHOA. WOW.
It was as if, in the midst of my decadence and deviance, God had graciously taken up my haphazard invitation and taken the time to reach down his hand to fill me with the holy spirit.
Time was slowed down to the extent that it felt completely suspended. This oil painting was sparkling like a million diamonds. I was in the DMT room. And it was the holiest of cathedrals. It was heaven descended.
My body was filled with the strangest buzz. It felt like an alien frequency. Soon the melt was complete. Now, apparently it was time for geometry. Fractals, fractals, fractals. The DMT lasted the same amount of time it normally does. But afterwards I felt like a truly new person. This feeling would soon fade, as I would return quickly to my typical patterns of drug abuse and shitty lifestyle.
No breakthrough. No machine elves. No rocket into space. No anxiety. Just an instant ++++.
That is why I would smoke DMT on Ketamine. To get higher than otherwise possible, the easiest way possible. I did it because it was a religious experience. And I needed something to believe in.
Tagged by HeadphonesandLSD
substancecode_ketamine
substancecode_dissociatives
substancecode_dmt
substancecode_tryptamines
_combo_
explevel_experienced
explevel_retrospective
exptype_spiritual
exptype_addiction
roacode_nasal
roacode_smoked
roacode_inhaled
roacode_vaporized
roacode_inhaled
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