aberrant
Ex-Bluelighter
- Joined
- Sep 28, 2008
- Messages
- 197
The original intention of this whole escapade remains cloudy. Everyone involved had respect for and admiration of the drug's power which I believe pushed us in a positive, if not edifying direction.
What happened to me last night was probably the most bizarre sequence of events that I've ever experienced. I was far too tired to write about it before bedtime circa 5:30am, yet I also think that if I wait any longer to write up what occurred, it might fade from memory as these things typically do. I am a huge fan of n,nDMT and have done a handful of extractions from m. Hostilis. None have been superbly successful, though somehow the return on my investment always seems worth it. This summer was to be the first time all year that a batch would be procured, and inevitably it happened over the very last week, which also in turn set a pretense for extreme anticipation. DMT is a personal favorite of mine; I find it full of warming comfort, peace, & universal understanding to be concise. Even the hard drugs (coke, dope, etc.) can't match its high. Having tripped on lsd, mushrooms, & research chemicals on about two score different occasions, I might reckon it could be twice that for our buddy Dmitri.
And so I set off to make the spice, with Buddies S & J along for the ride. Everything was done normally, until it came time to evaporate our solvent that contained the precious alkaloids at about 6:00pm. Buddy S and I decanted the first & 2nd pulls into the same pie dish for convenience. This made the evaporation take longer than originally planned, and my nerves were pretty shot already from doing all the last minute gathering of materials... not to mention desiring so badly to return to the nexus. School starts again in five days and all I want is my fix, just a chance to chill out with my favorite feeling in the whole wide world. I'm very emphatic about the whole mothball medicine operation. Although I've had a mild obsession with the neurotransmitter for almost two years now, I feel that this may be my last extraction for a while. The evaporation process was initiated at roughly 6:00pm and still had slight residue at 1:30am, even with the fan setup that was going.
At this point my friends were watching TV at the other end of our flat and I ran over with what seemed to be white gluey paste covering the pyrex dish to show them where we were. After being scraped up with a spare ID card it was apparent that what we had was mostly white with a tinge of yellow in some places. The dish was held over gas burner on low in a desperate attempt to dry the product faster and it was found out after smelling some anciently-closeted jasmine that the dish was being held too low and some fear developed over lost spice. And still there was a little goo. The dish was tossed into the freezer and we chat about the “dreamster” blunt that is about to be smoked. This is the preferred way of imbibing the spirits for me and my buddies, and I have a feeling that expectations are a little high—retrospect points blame at me for holding those mostly. I am quite impatient and they are a little skeptical of the less-than-100% dry DMT... “So there's no naphtha in that?” “Is it harmful to smoke what's there?” Truth be told I was not entirely sure either.
The dish was taken out of the freezer a couple minutes later and some more solvent had fallen off of the DMT. Then something happened: we agreed that it would be OK to go for it at that moment (all of us are pretty weathered with tripping), and a gram or so of pot was thrown into the cigar to act as a vehicle for our trip. The original plan was to soak the weed in the DMT since sprinkling it on wasn't an option, but to do this soon seems to be impossible without wasting any. The idiot rolling the thing (myself) decides to just bathe the top half of the wrap in the goop. What was going through my mind at this time: “My friends threw down weed and this liquid DMT may not be 100% pure, so let's be safe and go with a little extra” “It's been so long, so, so long. Let's go with some more.”
The L gets done being rolled and we agree on the standard dreamster L smoking procedure: Hold your hit in for 10 seconds, or until the L comes around again. This also necessitates taking one hit per turn, and in addition speeds up the rotation. We put on Shpongle and turn off the TV for good mojo. I know my friends are excited, but this is better than mother freaking Christmas for yours truly. The cigar gets sparked and no one can taste the marijuana in it at all. After one hit, Buddy J remarks “Damn, I normally feel this way after half the L is done!” After two hits, I remark “Holy Sh, I'm tripping so hard right now.” Buddy S is seeing familiar sights and is in accordance with the feeling that something is askew. We are all tripping sack.
Buddy J & I live with our Buddy S2 who doesn't do drugs besides alcohol and nicotine. He has come into the room to watch us after such a fuss was made over everything earlier in the day. The three of us on the blunt are all exclaiming that putting it out might be a good idea, and this is very surprising (Or not really.). Buddy S2 is asking us how we feel. Buddy S is laughing nonstop while Buddy J & I are nodding out into hyperspace. I see gifts being unwrapped and confetti flying out, everything painted neon and shifting color & direction at random. It's a huge celebration and everyone is happy!
Buddy J jokingly suggests that Buddy S2 hit the blunt, and he goes as far as to sniff the pungent smoke wafting off the cigar. He pauses for a second, and then stands up. “Whoa, this is like a 30 second version of the body high I got off of those LSA seeds!” He wants to know what we're seeing and Buddies S and J continue flying around the stratosphere while I begin to tell Buddy S2 about the next thing that's come up within my mind, a red room with some sort of foreign crystalline object morphing within itself while oscillating around the new space. Silhouettes of women dancing appear off to the periphery and odd heart shapes start flying everywhere. I open my eyes and find the room still moving about at breakneck speeds, geometric patterns changing the character of everything and making the world appear freaky cartoonish. Little triangles and rectangles fly in rivers over the carpet, the blinds shimmer and wobble in the wind that isn't there, and kitchen counter coalesces into the refrigerator. LEGO land is imminent if any more smoke finds its way into me, the deems has certainly hijacked my occipital lobe as now pastels rule the room.
The scope of what has we've just hit ourselves with hits me about now; the dose may be unknown but realistically it was probably between .8 and 1 grams, putting the ratio of bud to spice about 1:1... surreal. Buddy S2, always eager to witness or be a part of shenanigans, tells us we should start the blunt again. We acquiesce, knowing full well now what we're in for. After one more third I feel grabbed by force of it and begin falling forward into my own lap. I'm holding my head and Buddy S2 is cackling at how “off the walls” we are. This time a DMT circus-show of strippers on boxes full of spinning apostrophes and stars lights up my brain akin to what I imagine Vegas on acid to be like. The colors of gold and red return, the same ones that have persisted in most of my past travels. Interestingly they correspond to the solar plexus & root chakras. I suspect that the theme of women and lovey dovey crap that has been presented in many of my “dreems” is due to the fact that I've never been in a relationship before despite longing for one recently—as a 21 year old American this is considered an anomaly, and this fact is also firmly planted in my unconscious. It's embarrassing to talk about what goes on behind the eyelids sometimes. Really, after years of exploration, one just finds that the DMT is in absolute control, especially in the high dose realm.
Struggling not to be pulled under, the sounds of my friends talking take me back to Gaia for a second as Buddy S2 is wondering aloud if I'm all right, if what's going on is expected. Yes, I think to myself, the warm body glow that came in the first five seconds and hasn't left, the drone of buzzing and sharpened awareness of oneself, the laughter, the nasty taste of the smoke, like burning plastic in your mom's attic, it is all expected and welcomed. The mental effects so far have been very clear, lucid, and reductionist. Despite a nagging depression over the course of the past year or two, being able to enjoy these strange pulsing energy fields of heated vibration puts my mood through the roof and nothing is stopping my elation tonight. Euphoria from everything being “let out” presides and I can't stop but wonder if this might just be my psychedelic apex.
Eventually, after a couple minutes we are able to regroup and the apartment's hysterics decide it's a good idea to go outside behind our pad for the final third. A couple more small hits has me feeling sick and I wind up booting off to the side of the lot. Buddy S2 finds it hilarious and Buddies J and S go off to the side of the apartment because they are still tripping pretty solidly and probably don't find what's going on appetizing.. I clean up inside and go back out to explain the whole “purge” aspect of this esoteric amazonian tonic to Buddy S2. I had been eating extremely poorly (alcohol, fast food, excess HFCS, sodium, etc.) of late which I am convinced caused the throw up. We venture back inside to smoke the remainder of the blunt which had been put out concurrently with the vomiting episode. More Shpongle plays as we champ the roach through a bong, little bits at a time.
It's now about 3:30am. The TV comes back on and some weed is casually smoked. All we can do is make jokes about the night, to act like it was no big deal. The color saturation is still around, and the mood is still prime at this point. I try to go for a superman dose around 5:00am though my lungs are too shot and I can only manage to inhale about 15mg before I collapse in my bed. By 5:30am we're pretty much passing out hardcore. There was no ++++ in store for any of us, thanks to the unwieldy methods of preparation that were used. Despite this, no one went to bed let down. Perhaps we each got what we were looking for out of it... Anyway, that's the end of the story, thanks for reading. Happy travels everyone!
Tagged by Xorkoth
substancecode_dmt
substancecode_tryptamines
explevel_experienced
exptype_positive
roacode_vaporized
roacode_inhaled
What happened to me last night was probably the most bizarre sequence of events that I've ever experienced. I was far too tired to write about it before bedtime circa 5:30am, yet I also think that if I wait any longer to write up what occurred, it might fade from memory as these things typically do. I am a huge fan of n,nDMT and have done a handful of extractions from m. Hostilis. None have been superbly successful, though somehow the return on my investment always seems worth it. This summer was to be the first time all year that a batch would be procured, and inevitably it happened over the very last week, which also in turn set a pretense for extreme anticipation. DMT is a personal favorite of mine; I find it full of warming comfort, peace, & universal understanding to be concise. Even the hard drugs (coke, dope, etc.) can't match its high. Having tripped on lsd, mushrooms, & research chemicals on about two score different occasions, I might reckon it could be twice that for our buddy Dmitri.
And so I set off to make the spice, with Buddies S & J along for the ride. Everything was done normally, until it came time to evaporate our solvent that contained the precious alkaloids at about 6:00pm. Buddy S and I decanted the first & 2nd pulls into the same pie dish for convenience. This made the evaporation take longer than originally planned, and my nerves were pretty shot already from doing all the last minute gathering of materials... not to mention desiring so badly to return to the nexus. School starts again in five days and all I want is my fix, just a chance to chill out with my favorite feeling in the whole wide world. I'm very emphatic about the whole mothball medicine operation. Although I've had a mild obsession with the neurotransmitter for almost two years now, I feel that this may be my last extraction for a while. The evaporation process was initiated at roughly 6:00pm and still had slight residue at 1:30am, even with the fan setup that was going.
At this point my friends were watching TV at the other end of our flat and I ran over with what seemed to be white gluey paste covering the pyrex dish to show them where we were. After being scraped up with a spare ID card it was apparent that what we had was mostly white with a tinge of yellow in some places. The dish was held over gas burner on low in a desperate attempt to dry the product faster and it was found out after smelling some anciently-closeted jasmine that the dish was being held too low and some fear developed over lost spice. And still there was a little goo. The dish was tossed into the freezer and we chat about the “dreamster” blunt that is about to be smoked. This is the preferred way of imbibing the spirits for me and my buddies, and I have a feeling that expectations are a little high—retrospect points blame at me for holding those mostly. I am quite impatient and they are a little skeptical of the less-than-100% dry DMT... “So there's no naphtha in that?” “Is it harmful to smoke what's there?” Truth be told I was not entirely sure either.
The dish was taken out of the freezer a couple minutes later and some more solvent had fallen off of the DMT. Then something happened: we agreed that it would be OK to go for it at that moment (all of us are pretty weathered with tripping), and a gram or so of pot was thrown into the cigar to act as a vehicle for our trip. The original plan was to soak the weed in the DMT since sprinkling it on wasn't an option, but to do this soon seems to be impossible without wasting any. The idiot rolling the thing (myself) decides to just bathe the top half of the wrap in the goop. What was going through my mind at this time: “My friends threw down weed and this liquid DMT may not be 100% pure, so let's be safe and go with a little extra” “It's been so long, so, so long. Let's go with some more.”
The L gets done being rolled and we agree on the standard dreamster L smoking procedure: Hold your hit in for 10 seconds, or until the L comes around again. This also necessitates taking one hit per turn, and in addition speeds up the rotation. We put on Shpongle and turn off the TV for good mojo. I know my friends are excited, but this is better than mother freaking Christmas for yours truly. The cigar gets sparked and no one can taste the marijuana in it at all. After one hit, Buddy J remarks “Damn, I normally feel this way after half the L is done!” After two hits, I remark “Holy Sh, I'm tripping so hard right now.” Buddy S is seeing familiar sights and is in accordance with the feeling that something is askew. We are all tripping sack.
Buddy J & I live with our Buddy S2 who doesn't do drugs besides alcohol and nicotine. He has come into the room to watch us after such a fuss was made over everything earlier in the day. The three of us on the blunt are all exclaiming that putting it out might be a good idea, and this is very surprising (Or not really.). Buddy S2 is asking us how we feel. Buddy S is laughing nonstop while Buddy J & I are nodding out into hyperspace. I see gifts being unwrapped and confetti flying out, everything painted neon and shifting color & direction at random. It's a huge celebration and everyone is happy!
Buddy J jokingly suggests that Buddy S2 hit the blunt, and he goes as far as to sniff the pungent smoke wafting off the cigar. He pauses for a second, and then stands up. “Whoa, this is like a 30 second version of the body high I got off of those LSA seeds!” He wants to know what we're seeing and Buddies S and J continue flying around the stratosphere while I begin to tell Buddy S2 about the next thing that's come up within my mind, a red room with some sort of foreign crystalline object morphing within itself while oscillating around the new space. Silhouettes of women dancing appear off to the periphery and odd heart shapes start flying everywhere. I open my eyes and find the room still moving about at breakneck speeds, geometric patterns changing the character of everything and making the world appear freaky cartoonish. Little triangles and rectangles fly in rivers over the carpet, the blinds shimmer and wobble in the wind that isn't there, and kitchen counter coalesces into the refrigerator. LEGO land is imminent if any more smoke finds its way into me, the deems has certainly hijacked my occipital lobe as now pastels rule the room.
The scope of what has we've just hit ourselves with hits me about now; the dose may be unknown but realistically it was probably between .8 and 1 grams, putting the ratio of bud to spice about 1:1... surreal. Buddy S2, always eager to witness or be a part of shenanigans, tells us we should start the blunt again. We acquiesce, knowing full well now what we're in for. After one more third I feel grabbed by force of it and begin falling forward into my own lap. I'm holding my head and Buddy S2 is cackling at how “off the walls” we are. This time a DMT circus-show of strippers on boxes full of spinning apostrophes and stars lights up my brain akin to what I imagine Vegas on acid to be like. The colors of gold and red return, the same ones that have persisted in most of my past travels. Interestingly they correspond to the solar plexus & root chakras. I suspect that the theme of women and lovey dovey crap that has been presented in many of my “dreems” is due to the fact that I've never been in a relationship before despite longing for one recently—as a 21 year old American this is considered an anomaly, and this fact is also firmly planted in my unconscious. It's embarrassing to talk about what goes on behind the eyelids sometimes. Really, after years of exploration, one just finds that the DMT is in absolute control, especially in the high dose realm.
Struggling not to be pulled under, the sounds of my friends talking take me back to Gaia for a second as Buddy S2 is wondering aloud if I'm all right, if what's going on is expected. Yes, I think to myself, the warm body glow that came in the first five seconds and hasn't left, the drone of buzzing and sharpened awareness of oneself, the laughter, the nasty taste of the smoke, like burning plastic in your mom's attic, it is all expected and welcomed. The mental effects so far have been very clear, lucid, and reductionist. Despite a nagging depression over the course of the past year or two, being able to enjoy these strange pulsing energy fields of heated vibration puts my mood through the roof and nothing is stopping my elation tonight. Euphoria from everything being “let out” presides and I can't stop but wonder if this might just be my psychedelic apex.
Eventually, after a couple minutes we are able to regroup and the apartment's hysterics decide it's a good idea to go outside behind our pad for the final third. A couple more small hits has me feeling sick and I wind up booting off to the side of the lot. Buddy S2 finds it hilarious and Buddies J and S go off to the side of the apartment because they are still tripping pretty solidly and probably don't find what's going on appetizing.. I clean up inside and go back out to explain the whole “purge” aspect of this esoteric amazonian tonic to Buddy S2. I had been eating extremely poorly (alcohol, fast food, excess HFCS, sodium, etc.) of late which I am convinced caused the throw up. We venture back inside to smoke the remainder of the blunt which had been put out concurrently with the vomiting episode. More Shpongle plays as we champ the roach through a bong, little bits at a time.
It's now about 3:30am. The TV comes back on and some weed is casually smoked. All we can do is make jokes about the night, to act like it was no big deal. The color saturation is still around, and the mood is still prime at this point. I try to go for a superman dose around 5:00am though my lungs are too shot and I can only manage to inhale about 15mg before I collapse in my bed. By 5:30am we're pretty much passing out hardcore. There was no ++++ in store for any of us, thanks to the unwieldy methods of preparation that were used. Despite this, no one went to bed let down. Perhaps we each got what we were looking for out of it... Anyway, that's the end of the story, thanks for reading. Happy travels everyone!
Tagged by Xorkoth
substancecode_dmt
substancecode_tryptamines
explevel_experienced
exptype_positive
roacode_vaporized
roacode_inhaled
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