MyDoorsAreOpen
Bluelight Crew
- Joined
- Aug 20, 2003
- Messages
- 8,549
I'm writing this right after coming down from my first undeniable breakthrough dose of smoked n,n-DMT. My only disappointment with this experience is my inability to say a lot about it, due to my inability to really remember it all that well, even right after it finished. Any description I give here will be trite. I guarantee it. For some reason, I feel compelled to write about it in coarse hackneyed platitudes, if only because these seem to fit. And after all, no words of mine can ever prepare anyone else for this chemical.
I built myself an ethanol lamp using an old little brown glass bottle, a paperclip, a length of rope for a wick, and some drugstore ethyl rubbing alcohol. I chose this because it burns with a soot-free flame, allowing me to see the heating pipe. For the pipe, I used a clear glass weed pipe, but with the DMT at the bottom on the inside, and heated from the bottom, like a crack pipe.
This drug has always filled me with some trepidation that I can't explain. I've only ever hit a 'museum dose' of it before, but even then, I was so surprised by what the effects felt like, that it caught me very much off guard, and I had to contain myself from flipping out. I didn't regret either of these other two experiences, but I'd remembered the shocking oddness of the drug, and was therefore visibly shaky as I prepared my first ever breakthrough dose of the drug.
But I knew I had to do it. I'd gone this far setting it up, that I couldn't possibly back down now and live with myself. I was in my house by myself, with nothing to distract me, and nothing else on my mind. So I clasped my hands in prayer, took a deep breath, and said 'Om Ganesh, protector of students and [most importantly here] remover of obstacles.' That seemed to work, for right after, I fearlessly dipped the end of my pipe into the blue flame, watched as the drug melted and then boiled, and inhaled deeply.
By the time I'd held my breath for count of ten, I was clearly not in Kansas anymore -- the world seemed to be made entirely of paisleys and calico quilts. But no, I couldn't stop here. I held the now pixelated, lizard-skinned glass pipe back in the now giant, bonfire like lamp flame once more. By the time I breathed that hit out, I was JUST coherent enough to blow the flame out with it, and set the pipe (um... what's a pipe again?) down on an old book by my bedside, then slide myself around into bed.
It was then that I closed my eyes and put my arms above my head, and I was no longer of this world, in any meaningful sense. I was what I always was long before I inhabited this human body, and will probably someday be again. There are no human names for the entity I was, and the other entity I met in this other world. I was simply made of the stuff of the stars, and the rings around atoms. There was a definite 'outer space' theme to the world I now inhabited. I was formless, timeless, and nameless. I knew I had died... no, woken up, to my true nature. I was filled with a sense of 'Oh yeah, how could I forget? Of course this is the real reality behind what I normally call reality. How silly of me to think my human form was my real self!'
But it felt wrong. I felt like I was trespassing in a house where the owner had just woken up, or spying on my mother preparing Christmas presents for me as a child, knowing that at any moment she could look up and see me. I shouldn't be here. And then she spoke to me. Who or what was she? I don't know. She had no form either, and spoke to me entirely in vibes. But I was sure she was there. She gave me the vibe of an overworked, busy, tough but ultimately loving mother, telling her kid (me) to run along back outside, and quit bothering her, because she's got work to do.
The trip was not very visual at any point, in sharp contrast to what I'd read about the drug and the previous two low-dose experiences I'd had with it. It went beyond sight. 'Sight' had no meaning, for this new entity I was had no eyes and no need for eyes.
Or maybe it was visual, but it was so terrifying that I blocked most of it out. I had to think hard as I lay in my bed on the comedown, to recall enough concrete images to come up with a trip report. I have vague memories of multicolored sheets of spacetime, almost like physicists' pictures of branes and manifolds. I also vaguely remember some psychedelic pipelines or tubes. But this is very vague, like trying to recall a dream I had 2 nights ago.
The only other thing I remember was sensing some other very odd sensations, or maybe meeting some other entities, that scared me a lot, and I distinctly remember thinking the words 'Stop! I don't want to know how much deeper the rabbit hole goes!' I now know exactly why many mystics of many traditions will take on only retirees, who've raised their kids, prospered, and have absolutely nothing to worry about -- it takes someone with few remaining ties to this material world, and much life experience, to be brave enough to go absolutely as far as a journey down the rabbit hole is willing to take you.
I opened my eyes soon after, and slowly but steadily came back to this reality. The visuals were very slight -- no intricate Arabesque or Mayan patterns, like before, only a psychedelic shimmer to the contours of everything, and an ever so slight lizard-ish green hue to my skin when I looked at my hands. But my head remained in a decidedly psychedelic state for at least ten more minutes. I was at this point struck with the final cliche: Was I Zhaungzi dreaming he was a butterfly, or a butterfly dreaming he was Zhuangzi? I am still fundamentally unsure which of the two realities was more real.
I had a distinct feeling of being given a second chance, and being reborn, as I came down with my eyes open. I felt like Scrooge McDuck in Disney's Christmas Carol, waking up elated that after being pushed down terrified into his own grave, he was once again back in his bed, and given a second chance at being a new man. For some reason, thinking about this movie from my childhood and comparing it to my DMT experience brings tears to my eyes, I can't explain why. Maybe it's just because life is so beautiful that I really ought to appreciate it more and use it more wisely, before I ultimately go back, forever or for a very long time, to the place shown to me by DMT, where my tough but loving mother is waiting for me.
My heart was beating fast, there was a cool, not unpleasant 'hiss' sound in my ears, and my oral mucosa felt menthol-cold and tasted like alcohol, as I sat down at my computer to write this trip report. My lungs felt coated with something that gave me chemical shivers, which I find annoying. My hands on the keyboard occasionally took on fading hints of that 'lizard look', and my head felt a little light.
All in all, I'd call it a difficult experience that I don't regret, kind of like taking a swim outdoors in winter. I felt I'd faced my fears regarding this drug, and was a stronger person having seen the full power (or much closer to it) of what it had to offer me. I am not overly eager to repeat the experience. I think the next time I do it, I will know for sure that it's my time, and I'll do it utterly fearlessly.
I don't have any afterglow. In fact, if anything, I feel kind of full of toxic chemicals, and a little (but not too) crummy. This was the other big disappointment, as I'd heard about people getting afterglows on DMT that lasted hours, and lifted them out of depression for a long time thereafter.
This drug is a shaman's tool, not a toy. At a breakthrough dose, be prepared to be stripped of all you think is real. It's not something to be taken lightly, an not something I'd recommend to the faint of heart of the fragile of mind. It's a spiritually and philosophically profound experience, on the same order of profundity as a k-hole, but without the calm. It's up to you not to panic, on this one.
All in all, I find tryptamines difficult. I find I spend too much time on them concentrating on not panicking, to fully enjoy or get a full lesson out of the experience. The terror they bring me is much harder to shake than anything LSD or any phenethylamine has ever given me. Worthwhile experiences, to be sure. But not exactly recreation.
I built myself an ethanol lamp using an old little brown glass bottle, a paperclip, a length of rope for a wick, and some drugstore ethyl rubbing alcohol. I chose this because it burns with a soot-free flame, allowing me to see the heating pipe. For the pipe, I used a clear glass weed pipe, but with the DMT at the bottom on the inside, and heated from the bottom, like a crack pipe.
This drug has always filled me with some trepidation that I can't explain. I've only ever hit a 'museum dose' of it before, but even then, I was so surprised by what the effects felt like, that it caught me very much off guard, and I had to contain myself from flipping out. I didn't regret either of these other two experiences, but I'd remembered the shocking oddness of the drug, and was therefore visibly shaky as I prepared my first ever breakthrough dose of the drug.
But I knew I had to do it. I'd gone this far setting it up, that I couldn't possibly back down now and live with myself. I was in my house by myself, with nothing to distract me, and nothing else on my mind. So I clasped my hands in prayer, took a deep breath, and said 'Om Ganesh, protector of students and [most importantly here] remover of obstacles.' That seemed to work, for right after, I fearlessly dipped the end of my pipe into the blue flame, watched as the drug melted and then boiled, and inhaled deeply.
By the time I'd held my breath for count of ten, I was clearly not in Kansas anymore -- the world seemed to be made entirely of paisleys and calico quilts. But no, I couldn't stop here. I held the now pixelated, lizard-skinned glass pipe back in the now giant, bonfire like lamp flame once more. By the time I breathed that hit out, I was JUST coherent enough to blow the flame out with it, and set the pipe (um... what's a pipe again?) down on an old book by my bedside, then slide myself around into bed.
It was then that I closed my eyes and put my arms above my head, and I was no longer of this world, in any meaningful sense. I was what I always was long before I inhabited this human body, and will probably someday be again. There are no human names for the entity I was, and the other entity I met in this other world. I was simply made of the stuff of the stars, and the rings around atoms. There was a definite 'outer space' theme to the world I now inhabited. I was formless, timeless, and nameless. I knew I had died... no, woken up, to my true nature. I was filled with a sense of 'Oh yeah, how could I forget? Of course this is the real reality behind what I normally call reality. How silly of me to think my human form was my real self!'
But it felt wrong. I felt like I was trespassing in a house where the owner had just woken up, or spying on my mother preparing Christmas presents for me as a child, knowing that at any moment she could look up and see me. I shouldn't be here. And then she spoke to me. Who or what was she? I don't know. She had no form either, and spoke to me entirely in vibes. But I was sure she was there. She gave me the vibe of an overworked, busy, tough but ultimately loving mother, telling her kid (me) to run along back outside, and quit bothering her, because she's got work to do.
The trip was not very visual at any point, in sharp contrast to what I'd read about the drug and the previous two low-dose experiences I'd had with it. It went beyond sight. 'Sight' had no meaning, for this new entity I was had no eyes and no need for eyes.
Or maybe it was visual, but it was so terrifying that I blocked most of it out. I had to think hard as I lay in my bed on the comedown, to recall enough concrete images to come up with a trip report. I have vague memories of multicolored sheets of spacetime, almost like physicists' pictures of branes and manifolds. I also vaguely remember some psychedelic pipelines or tubes. But this is very vague, like trying to recall a dream I had 2 nights ago.
The only other thing I remember was sensing some other very odd sensations, or maybe meeting some other entities, that scared me a lot, and I distinctly remember thinking the words 'Stop! I don't want to know how much deeper the rabbit hole goes!' I now know exactly why many mystics of many traditions will take on only retirees, who've raised their kids, prospered, and have absolutely nothing to worry about -- it takes someone with few remaining ties to this material world, and much life experience, to be brave enough to go absolutely as far as a journey down the rabbit hole is willing to take you.
I opened my eyes soon after, and slowly but steadily came back to this reality. The visuals were very slight -- no intricate Arabesque or Mayan patterns, like before, only a psychedelic shimmer to the contours of everything, and an ever so slight lizard-ish green hue to my skin when I looked at my hands. But my head remained in a decidedly psychedelic state for at least ten more minutes. I was at this point struck with the final cliche: Was I Zhaungzi dreaming he was a butterfly, or a butterfly dreaming he was Zhuangzi? I am still fundamentally unsure which of the two realities was more real.
I had a distinct feeling of being given a second chance, and being reborn, as I came down with my eyes open. I felt like Scrooge McDuck in Disney's Christmas Carol, waking up elated that after being pushed down terrified into his own grave, he was once again back in his bed, and given a second chance at being a new man. For some reason, thinking about this movie from my childhood and comparing it to my DMT experience brings tears to my eyes, I can't explain why. Maybe it's just because life is so beautiful that I really ought to appreciate it more and use it more wisely, before I ultimately go back, forever or for a very long time, to the place shown to me by DMT, where my tough but loving mother is waiting for me.
My heart was beating fast, there was a cool, not unpleasant 'hiss' sound in my ears, and my oral mucosa felt menthol-cold and tasted like alcohol, as I sat down at my computer to write this trip report. My lungs felt coated with something that gave me chemical shivers, which I find annoying. My hands on the keyboard occasionally took on fading hints of that 'lizard look', and my head felt a little light.
All in all, I'd call it a difficult experience that I don't regret, kind of like taking a swim outdoors in winter. I felt I'd faced my fears regarding this drug, and was a stronger person having seen the full power (or much closer to it) of what it had to offer me. I am not overly eager to repeat the experience. I think the next time I do it, I will know for sure that it's my time, and I'll do it utterly fearlessly.
I don't have any afterglow. In fact, if anything, I feel kind of full of toxic chemicals, and a little (but not too) crummy. This was the other big disappointment, as I'd heard about people getting afterglows on DMT that lasted hours, and lifted them out of depression for a long time thereafter.
This drug is a shaman's tool, not a toy. At a breakthrough dose, be prepared to be stripped of all you think is real. It's not something to be taken lightly, an not something I'd recommend to the faint of heart of the fragile of mind. It's a spiritually and philosophically profound experience, on the same order of profundity as a k-hole, but without the calm. It's up to you not to panic, on this one.
All in all, I find tryptamines difficult. I find I spend too much time on them concentrating on not panicking, to fully enjoy or get a full lesson out of the experience. The terror they bring me is much harder to shake than anything LSD or any phenethylamine has ever given me. Worthwhile experiences, to be sure. But not exactly recreation.
