350mg of 4-AcO-DMT ontop of 80mg of 4-HO-MET (taken a few hours early). Was having a nice time on the 80mg of 4-HO-MET, the clouds were dancing around in the sky. I could never handle 80mg of 4-HO-MET normally, but i had taken benzos that day which makes me adventurous and able to easily tolerate much higher doses than I could normally handle.
Then I got the bright idea to take 350mg of 4-AcO-DMT. Unfortunately, as I eventually found out, no amount of benzos will make 350mg of 4-AcO-DMT a pleasant experience. Once the shit hit the fan I started eating more etizolam which didn't seem to do much. Blood pressure was something like 210/180.
The time i ate a half gram chunk of DCK was also pretty terrifying (another benzo induced, "lets see what happens if i take a massive dose of a psychedelic"), but at least parts of that experience were amazing, and exceptionally euphoric and deeply psychedelic. The 350mg of 4-AcO-DMT wasn't even that psychedelic, I just got sucked into this horrifying vortex of black and white swirls, it wasn't interesting at all.
Granted after that megadose DCK I felt unhinged and dissociated for weeks after, had a scary desire to walk into oncoming traffic, weird shit like that. But what I saw on the DCK trip was so awe inspiring I don't regret it.
Essentially I got sucked back into the womb, back into my orginal embryo self, wherein I realized we were all once omniscient beings with full knowledge of the secrets of the universe, and forget everything as soon as we are born. There is much more to that story, and the events of that evening and the days the followed were bizarre, but you'll have to wait for the novel. I actually do have an 80% completed novel that is literally titled, "Negrogesic", its a sort of Fear and Loathing meets Fight Club type take on my life. I'll let you guys know if i publish it (I very well may, although I'm working on publishing something else at moment).
But I suppose the worst drug mistake was fooling around with the quaalude analog, etaqualone. One minute I'm smoking it in my bathroom, next thing I know it's six days and I wake up gagging, barely alive in an ICU on life support with an intubation tube down my throat. Definitely did not see that one coming.
They were absolutely convinced I would have brain damage given that i was brought in not breathing at all (and they had unfortunately and quite traumatically, told my family to be prepared that if I did wake up at all, I may have severe hypoxia induced brain damage). Yet the moment I woke up I knew exactly what had happened, and thought, "oh shit that goddamn etaqualone". I suppose I had some brain cells to spare? Granted I lost my Rain Man-like ability to tell a person what day of the week they were born on based on their date of birth, but hey other that. I did feel weird however for a good 6 months, as if something was missing.
Hard to objectively gauge what degree of intellectual impairment might have occured as a result, best objective pre-post metric I have would be high school SAT score (1580/1600 -- perfect verbal, 780 math, 99+ percentile) compared to a certain graduate school admission test I took after the incident (87th percentile). Hard to read into that much however considering I did an enormous amount of drugs after high school, but I have noticed some decline in mathematical ability after that, especially with regard to spatial relationships. But hey, compared to the vegetable they thought I'd be, a decline in mathematical ability isn't too bad a fate.
