Pattern
Greenlighter
Date: 05/08/2013
Substances: Piracetam 3.79g, DPT HCl ~85mg (+/- 10mg) (pinkish tan powder, fine and slightly clumpy), Etizolam 4mg
Bodystate: 30, male, 83kg (~183lbs), last trip nine days ago (on DPT), state of tiredness due to insomnia
I’d had two DPT trips in the 50-70mg range, and the powerful aphrodisiac qualities of the substance had been a revelation. Going into my third trip, I basically just wanted to squeeze yet more pleasure out of this drug. My greed, coupled with a false sense of security regarding DPT’s effects, led me to the brink of a hard-core freak-out this time around. Horniness can make you do stupid things. In the build-up to this trip, I’d refrained from masturbation for several days to get my libido up to dog-like levels. Please excuse the length of the report. It is one of the most powerful trips I've had and serves as an object lesson in why it is a bad idea to take powerful psychedelics for kicks, and also why having a benzo on hand is almost mandatory if you’re taking a high dose psychedelic alone.
Around 23:20 I measured and took 3.79g Piracetam (to potentiate effects and improve recall). Just before 00:00, I wet my nostrils and snorted around 55mg of DPT. The effects seemed to begin building within a couple of minutes. With my nose starting to run a bit, I lay down to wait for the drug to absorb. I listened to some music and felt high as a kite as the euphoria came on. It sounded amazing, equal in emotional punch to being very high on weed. I noticed I was suddenly capable of highly realistic mental visualisation and was already in a fairly sensitive mindstate. I realised the importance of familiarity to a fragile mindstate and visualised how I’d feel tripping and surrounded by people with whom I shared a language barrier. I pondered life for a bit and felt relieved that my current “issues” were quite small; I was able to process them and move on.
I felt a big smile come on, the grin of the drug high. Around 00:30, I went for a piss. As I pissed, I felt bodily distortions, as if my legs were longer than usual. Disappointingly, my dick felt somewhat shrivelled, from the nervous excitement perhaps. Yet my thinking process still felt quite normal. “I’ll give it a chance to build” I thought. I turned on the computer and browsed some porn. Spectacular! I grabbed my dick and began to masturbate. “Wow, this is great….but I know it can be even better…I need a boost!” It was now about 00:40. “The first dose has come on now” I thought, “it must be safe to re-dose, I mean, I can still think straight!”. So, in a frenzy of horny greed, out came the baggy. I was so eager, I couldn’t be bothered to get out my scales. Despite having measured out a dose 40 minutes before, it was hard to judge quantities in this state. I tapped out a few clumps of powder, which I would estimate to have been 40mg, but it’s impossible to know. I crumbled the powder down and tipped a bit back into the bag. Snorrrrrt! “Wow, that was quite a bit actually” I thought to myself. A few tiny clumps fell out of my nose, but I didn’t bother hoovering them up. Part of me knew I’d been stupid. Almost immediately, I felt a head-rush. All of a sudden I was a lot more fucked up. “Shit….should I blow my nose? No, don’t be silly…Just chill, relax, look at the porn”. So back to the porn. The frenzy took hold. But there was something ever so slightly weird, even menacing about the images. “Oh well, just cum and you’ll feel better”. So I did. I felt like an animal relieving an urge, and a great disappointment came over me. “I’m too fucked….I was too fucked to enjoy that, and I waited all fucking week for this moment!” I sat there slightly stunned, wiping goo all over my thighs. The intensity was building. “Shit, how far am I going? Keep calm man, chill, relax”. The quivering of excitement I had felt, was now nervous tension. “This is just a wave” I told myself. The thought of popping some etizolam popped into my head. “No, don’t be silly, just wait, you’ll regret taking it”. I brought the porn back up and tried to pleasure myself. No dice. The images had lost their appeal, and now the visuals were kicking in. A familiar Mesoamerican-style pattern appeared, first as a band across the upper part of the screen, then on the skin of the girls on my screen. First monochrome, then in subtle rainbow tones. Stars of David appeared, interlocking with criss-cross shapes, covering all visible skin like some kind of full-body tattoo. Previously on DPT, I’d been amused by these patterns, now they seemed sinister, representing the rapidly building power of the DPT. I had a nasty feeling I’d unleashed something horrible on myself. I scanned through more pics, trying to break out of the negative mindset and get horny again. No joy. Instead, I found myself transfixed by the sight of a gaping pussy, as if it were some sort of strange alien orifice. I was thoroughly twisted now. Words were popping into my head, each one reverberating like an echo over and over, including several random snatches of Spanish. A mental sound-storm I couldn’t control. I came upon a pic of a sweet looking girl. She looked reassuring and I decided to focus on her. I didn’t know it, but I would spend most of the next hour locked on to this picture, clinging to it like a piece of driftwood in the storm.
Sometime between 1 and 1:15am. I became aware of the “vibration”. It reminded me of being in a room with a washing machine on full spin, or the vibrations caused by an electric drill. It seemed to underlie my entire sphere of perception. Initially, I was semi-amused at encountering this bizarre phenomenon for the first time. But like the visuals, it began to represent the raw unforgiving power of the DPT. The vibration began to enter my sphere of aural perception as a kind of humming / whining. And then, intermittently, my body itself seemed to begin vibrating slightly (not sure if this was imagined or real). Most disturbingly of course, I couldn’t “snap out of it”. I realised I had to surrender totally to the power of this drug. Any notions of fun were firmly on hold while I weathered this storm. My train of thought was now totally out of whack and thoughts rose up in my mind like monsters. My sense of proportion and reasoning were shattered. I HAD to stay positive. “Chill man, this is just the peak, the first dose should already be wearing off”. I felt the DPT reach into my head and own me. My body began to feel like it was being pulled apart from either side. Shades of a Salvia peak. I was firmly in the twilight zone. My memory was faltering. I had to remember what was happening at all costs…“It’s just the peak man…It’ll be over in half an hour….You took some DPT….You wanted this….This is supposed to fun”. I stared at the girl on the screen. Her tits were covered in geometric patterns. Her face stayed pretty, but if I stared at it for any length of time, it seemed to stand out from the rest of her and take on a disembodied appearance. When this happened I had to focus my gaze back on her body.
At one point, the thought occurred to me that I might enjoy looking at some psychedelic artwork. So I brought up a few pictures. I settled on a Simon Haiduk image and gazed at the silhouettes of faces embedded within. “Damn this trickery!” It’s was too much of a headfuck for me in this state. I felt safer staring at patterns on women’s breasts, nature’s art. At least then I knew what was an OEV and what was real. Negative words started popping into my head and worrying the hell out of me. “Anxiety-anxiety-anxiety-anxiety…..” I felt like writing an apology down on paper for being greedy. Partly as a warning to my future self, partly to appease the DPT. But I worried that writing the word “greedy” down on paper might be too negative an act to bear and would freak me out.
I was getting tired and exhausted of this mental struggle. But I couldn’t rest, there was no escaping. I was hanging off the cliff edge with my finger tips so to speak. Suddenly I felt emotion welling up inside me like psychological nausea. I realised I was upset, like a little boy who wants to get off a scary ride. I was now dangerously close breaking point. “Patience man, patience!” That quality I find so elusive. The time was 1:27am. I must have been peaking now. After what seemed a short while, I looked back at the clock, and it still said 1:27. I needed to see that digit change! I brought up the clock display so I could see the seconds elapsing and feel like progress was being made towards the end of this punishment. It eventually reached 1:28. “Yes!” I watched the clock for over ten painfully slow minutes. My neck was aching with tension and I wished I could curl up on my bed and rest, but I knew that was impossible in this state. I was seeing patterns all around me now. On the wallpaper, I could see a square, Greek key-like pattern, linking the real-life wallpaper motifs together.
I had to contend increasingly with the beginnings of thought loops, nipping them in the bud before they spiralled out of control. In a desperate bid to break out of this vulnerable mind state, I searched for a movie to watch on my PC. But most of the movies titles seemed sinister in one way or another, and I need something light-hearted, soppy even, to soothe me. I could barely thing straight. My eye settled on Go. “That’s funny right?” But no! It was actually quite dark. I skipped about randomly trying to find a funny bit. Two guys in a car were exclaiming “she’s dead!” I didn’t need to hear that in my state! The words echoed round and round in my head. I started to fear I’d get confused and think someone had really died. I clicked again on the seek bar, only to encounter the roar of an electric whisk. Too much noise! I closed the video, with the sound of the whisk reverberating in my head. I needed to get my bearings quick. Back to the picture of the girl. The lighting from the screen was critical. It had to remain constant. I had to keep my head the same distance from it. If the light level reaching my eyes changed, the room began to feel altered, and this disconcerted me. Several times I began rocking back and forth, only to realise this reinforced the feeling I’d lost control, so I stopped. I was locked into this position, perched on the edge of my chair staring at the screen. I realise my face was taught with tension and worry. “Shit! Don’t be negative…be happy…” Several times, I forced myself to smile, recalling some psychobabble that smiling makes you feel happier. But the act of forcing it only reminded me I wasn’t OK. I found myself wishing I could ask the DPT for forgiveness, but I had two problems. One, I’m not a shaman who believes in the existence of natural spirits. Two, DPT isn’t even “natural” anyway. I’m a just a 21st century atheist loser playing with mind bending chemicals to spice up his repetitive life. How empty. I now realised that an underlying depression was being amplified by and dominating the mood of the trip.
At 1.40am Iwas still in the thick of it. I wondered how much the piracetam could have exacerbated the searing intensity of the DPT, in both force and duration. The blockage of my right nostril was now bothering me. I rubbed it, only to find the sensation of touch alien and weird. Realising I couldn’t clear the blockage, I felt a frown come over my face. The failure to relieve this discomfort and the sensation of wearing a disgusted expression seemed to be the last straw. In frustration I sat back in my chair. The darkness of the curtains to my right became menacing. Suddenly, a horrible ominous feeling came over me; a demonic force seemed to invade my mind, showering me with searing darts of intense anxiety. Pure terror. I was going mad, totally losing it: In my confusion, I felt as if someone/something was after me and wanted to kill me. I began sweating profusely. In a few moments I’d gone from being deeply uneasy/fed-up to a state of sheer terror. With one last shred of sanity, I fumbled around and managed to find my packet of etizolam. I squeezed out four tablets and downed them with water. The terror remained as I tried to work out how much four tablets of etizolam was, whether it was enough, and whether it was too late. Having concluded four was enough, I waited…. Time moved like a snail. I told myself “you’ve taken a tranquiliser, that’ll relax you, yes, it will take away all the tension, that’s as good as making it all go away, don’t worry man, hang in there, you’ll be calm, that’s what you need to be happy…” Not convinced a mere benzo was enough to calm the mental storm, I considered popping some respiradone, but decided to wait for the etizolam to kick in. Closing my eyes, I saw vivid columns of square “acid tabs”, some with yin-yang signs. This regurgitation by my brain of a stereotypical mystical image was annoying to me. Around 1.50am, I finally felt a head change, a pleasant “swimming”. Then, a yawn. Then, at 1.55, bingo! Solid relief, in the form of a pleasant chill. A big smile broke out on my face! Saved!
This marked a total U-turn in the effects for me. Suddenly, I noticed the OEV patterning had lifted. I felt “normal”. It was so great to be back! Back in my body! That’s how it felt anyway. I was never “out of body” like on an NMDA antagonist, but the weird vibration, tension and “melting” feelings were very alien. Not only did I feel relieved, I was now feeling great. That lovely MDMA-like rush. A dead-ringer. I turned round to look at my room. The sight of the bookcase and the ceiling light dangling down filled me with delight and awe. It looked divinely beautiful. And I mean that literally. I began to feel a manifestation of God, a feeling I’ve never felt before. I could feel Him, I want to touch Him (I laughed at myself, being ardently irreligious and all…) “Speak to me God”. He was showing himself in everything around me. My mouth was wide open in amazement, I felt intense gratitude. For everything. All the beautiful people in my life. Pure love. Delight. A narcotic calm came over me, with the pleasurable feeling of movement of MDMA. A hilarious, goofy grin spread across my face and I giggled as another rush came over me. What a ride! Over the next 20-30 minutes I soared upwards in elation, then a sleepiness would come over me and I felt I should go to bed, only to soar back upwards again. Odd thoughts and feelings came into my head. I could feel the presence of father time, as a slobbering dog-like creature messing around with the speed of time. Then he was me, and at one point he was in my mouth. A dream from several nights ago suddenly came back to me in crystal clear detail. A few random stabs of paranoia jutted in now and then, but didn’t impinge on the overall mood. I felt like I understoond what Shulgin meant when he put the words “magical” and “psychedelic” together.
Around 2.30, I watched an episode of Freaks and Geeks on my PC. Everything was great…the characters, the acting. Pure hilarity. At one point I was bent over in stitches. I haven’t laughed like that in a long time That took me up to 3.15am. Thereafter, only a few intermittent memories stand out. I remember seeing the most spectacular movement tracers I’ve ever seen. And wonderful, technicolor CEVs of criss-cross patterns mounted on a lattice, rippling and shimmering. I remember gazing into the bathroom mirror, watching my face warping in a ghoulishly weird way. I was so relaxed that even the sight of my skin turning all blotchy was quite amusing. Sometime after 4am, I was lying in bed when a wave of emotion came over me. I was suddenly struck by nostalgia, and a deep sadness and that the past is gone forever. Mourning the good and bad times alike, I wept like I hadn’t wept since my last withdrawal, and it felt so good and cleansing. Around 4.30am, I attempted to hunker down. But despite the etizolam, I still felt stimulated and was beginning to get touches of akathisia. Feeling tired and self-indulgent, I popped 30mg Zoplicone at 5am. By 5.10 I was asleep. The price I paid for this was a fog of etizolam/zopiclone induced amnesia the next day.
CONCLUSIONS: This was a humbling experience and reminded me that psychedelics like DPT deserve the utmost respect and shouldn’t be used compulsively for kicks. Yet I’m also left with a troubling realisation that a few mgs of BZD made the difference between a nightmare freak-out and a blissful, even transcendental experience. So does this mean that if you pop a BZD beforehand, you can take high doses of psychedelics willy-nilly, with as much preparation as if you were having a few beers? I can’t help feeling that’s somehow not in the spirit of psychedelic exploration. But then I can’t pinpoint exactly why it is so bad either. Do anxiety and fear form a central part of the psychedelic experience? Is there a purity of experience which is lost by padding the brain with a tranquilizer? Certainly, I lost my afterglow the next day, in a haze of BZD-induced gloom (obviously, having the benzo as an antidote was essential in this case, and without it I'd have been well and truly fucked). There’s a parallel here with the argument about whether it’s acceptable to take an anti-emetic before ayahuasca to avoid the “purge”, which traditionalists consider central to the experience. Can an unchallenging psychedelic experience still be of therapeutic value?
Substances: Piracetam 3.79g, DPT HCl ~85mg (+/- 10mg) (pinkish tan powder, fine and slightly clumpy), Etizolam 4mg
Bodystate: 30, male, 83kg (~183lbs), last trip nine days ago (on DPT), state of tiredness due to insomnia
I’d had two DPT trips in the 50-70mg range, and the powerful aphrodisiac qualities of the substance had been a revelation. Going into my third trip, I basically just wanted to squeeze yet more pleasure out of this drug. My greed, coupled with a false sense of security regarding DPT’s effects, led me to the brink of a hard-core freak-out this time around. Horniness can make you do stupid things. In the build-up to this trip, I’d refrained from masturbation for several days to get my libido up to dog-like levels. Please excuse the length of the report. It is one of the most powerful trips I've had and serves as an object lesson in why it is a bad idea to take powerful psychedelics for kicks, and also why having a benzo on hand is almost mandatory if you’re taking a high dose psychedelic alone.
Around 23:20 I measured and took 3.79g Piracetam (to potentiate effects and improve recall). Just before 00:00, I wet my nostrils and snorted around 55mg of DPT. The effects seemed to begin building within a couple of minutes. With my nose starting to run a bit, I lay down to wait for the drug to absorb. I listened to some music and felt high as a kite as the euphoria came on. It sounded amazing, equal in emotional punch to being very high on weed. I noticed I was suddenly capable of highly realistic mental visualisation and was already in a fairly sensitive mindstate. I realised the importance of familiarity to a fragile mindstate and visualised how I’d feel tripping and surrounded by people with whom I shared a language barrier. I pondered life for a bit and felt relieved that my current “issues” were quite small; I was able to process them and move on.
I felt a big smile come on, the grin of the drug high. Around 00:30, I went for a piss. As I pissed, I felt bodily distortions, as if my legs were longer than usual. Disappointingly, my dick felt somewhat shrivelled, from the nervous excitement perhaps. Yet my thinking process still felt quite normal. “I’ll give it a chance to build” I thought. I turned on the computer and browsed some porn. Spectacular! I grabbed my dick and began to masturbate. “Wow, this is great….but I know it can be even better…I need a boost!” It was now about 00:40. “The first dose has come on now” I thought, “it must be safe to re-dose, I mean, I can still think straight!”. So, in a frenzy of horny greed, out came the baggy. I was so eager, I couldn’t be bothered to get out my scales. Despite having measured out a dose 40 minutes before, it was hard to judge quantities in this state. I tapped out a few clumps of powder, which I would estimate to have been 40mg, but it’s impossible to know. I crumbled the powder down and tipped a bit back into the bag. Snorrrrrt! “Wow, that was quite a bit actually” I thought to myself. A few tiny clumps fell out of my nose, but I didn’t bother hoovering them up. Part of me knew I’d been stupid. Almost immediately, I felt a head-rush. All of a sudden I was a lot more fucked up. “Shit….should I blow my nose? No, don’t be silly…Just chill, relax, look at the porn”. So back to the porn. The frenzy took hold. But there was something ever so slightly weird, even menacing about the images. “Oh well, just cum and you’ll feel better”. So I did. I felt like an animal relieving an urge, and a great disappointment came over me. “I’m too fucked….I was too fucked to enjoy that, and I waited all fucking week for this moment!” I sat there slightly stunned, wiping goo all over my thighs. The intensity was building. “Shit, how far am I going? Keep calm man, chill, relax”. The quivering of excitement I had felt, was now nervous tension. “This is just a wave” I told myself. The thought of popping some etizolam popped into my head. “No, don’t be silly, just wait, you’ll regret taking it”. I brought the porn back up and tried to pleasure myself. No dice. The images had lost their appeal, and now the visuals were kicking in. A familiar Mesoamerican-style pattern appeared, first as a band across the upper part of the screen, then on the skin of the girls on my screen. First monochrome, then in subtle rainbow tones. Stars of David appeared, interlocking with criss-cross shapes, covering all visible skin like some kind of full-body tattoo. Previously on DPT, I’d been amused by these patterns, now they seemed sinister, representing the rapidly building power of the DPT. I had a nasty feeling I’d unleashed something horrible on myself. I scanned through more pics, trying to break out of the negative mindset and get horny again. No joy. Instead, I found myself transfixed by the sight of a gaping pussy, as if it were some sort of strange alien orifice. I was thoroughly twisted now. Words were popping into my head, each one reverberating like an echo over and over, including several random snatches of Spanish. A mental sound-storm I couldn’t control. I came upon a pic of a sweet looking girl. She looked reassuring and I decided to focus on her. I didn’t know it, but I would spend most of the next hour locked on to this picture, clinging to it like a piece of driftwood in the storm.
Sometime between 1 and 1:15am. I became aware of the “vibration”. It reminded me of being in a room with a washing machine on full spin, or the vibrations caused by an electric drill. It seemed to underlie my entire sphere of perception. Initially, I was semi-amused at encountering this bizarre phenomenon for the first time. But like the visuals, it began to represent the raw unforgiving power of the DPT. The vibration began to enter my sphere of aural perception as a kind of humming / whining. And then, intermittently, my body itself seemed to begin vibrating slightly (not sure if this was imagined or real). Most disturbingly of course, I couldn’t “snap out of it”. I realised I had to surrender totally to the power of this drug. Any notions of fun were firmly on hold while I weathered this storm. My train of thought was now totally out of whack and thoughts rose up in my mind like monsters. My sense of proportion and reasoning were shattered. I HAD to stay positive. “Chill man, this is just the peak, the first dose should already be wearing off”. I felt the DPT reach into my head and own me. My body began to feel like it was being pulled apart from either side. Shades of a Salvia peak. I was firmly in the twilight zone. My memory was faltering. I had to remember what was happening at all costs…“It’s just the peak man…It’ll be over in half an hour….You took some DPT….You wanted this….This is supposed to fun”. I stared at the girl on the screen. Her tits were covered in geometric patterns. Her face stayed pretty, but if I stared at it for any length of time, it seemed to stand out from the rest of her and take on a disembodied appearance. When this happened I had to focus my gaze back on her body.
At one point, the thought occurred to me that I might enjoy looking at some psychedelic artwork. So I brought up a few pictures. I settled on a Simon Haiduk image and gazed at the silhouettes of faces embedded within. “Damn this trickery!” It’s was too much of a headfuck for me in this state. I felt safer staring at patterns on women’s breasts, nature’s art. At least then I knew what was an OEV and what was real. Negative words started popping into my head and worrying the hell out of me. “Anxiety-anxiety-anxiety-anxiety…..” I felt like writing an apology down on paper for being greedy. Partly as a warning to my future self, partly to appease the DPT. But I worried that writing the word “greedy” down on paper might be too negative an act to bear and would freak me out.
I was getting tired and exhausted of this mental struggle. But I couldn’t rest, there was no escaping. I was hanging off the cliff edge with my finger tips so to speak. Suddenly I felt emotion welling up inside me like psychological nausea. I realised I was upset, like a little boy who wants to get off a scary ride. I was now dangerously close breaking point. “Patience man, patience!” That quality I find so elusive. The time was 1:27am. I must have been peaking now. After what seemed a short while, I looked back at the clock, and it still said 1:27. I needed to see that digit change! I brought up the clock display so I could see the seconds elapsing and feel like progress was being made towards the end of this punishment. It eventually reached 1:28. “Yes!” I watched the clock for over ten painfully slow minutes. My neck was aching with tension and I wished I could curl up on my bed and rest, but I knew that was impossible in this state. I was seeing patterns all around me now. On the wallpaper, I could see a square, Greek key-like pattern, linking the real-life wallpaper motifs together.
I had to contend increasingly with the beginnings of thought loops, nipping them in the bud before they spiralled out of control. In a desperate bid to break out of this vulnerable mind state, I searched for a movie to watch on my PC. But most of the movies titles seemed sinister in one way or another, and I need something light-hearted, soppy even, to soothe me. I could barely thing straight. My eye settled on Go. “That’s funny right?” But no! It was actually quite dark. I skipped about randomly trying to find a funny bit. Two guys in a car were exclaiming “she’s dead!” I didn’t need to hear that in my state! The words echoed round and round in my head. I started to fear I’d get confused and think someone had really died. I clicked again on the seek bar, only to encounter the roar of an electric whisk. Too much noise! I closed the video, with the sound of the whisk reverberating in my head. I needed to get my bearings quick. Back to the picture of the girl. The lighting from the screen was critical. It had to remain constant. I had to keep my head the same distance from it. If the light level reaching my eyes changed, the room began to feel altered, and this disconcerted me. Several times I began rocking back and forth, only to realise this reinforced the feeling I’d lost control, so I stopped. I was locked into this position, perched on the edge of my chair staring at the screen. I realise my face was taught with tension and worry. “Shit! Don’t be negative…be happy…” Several times, I forced myself to smile, recalling some psychobabble that smiling makes you feel happier. But the act of forcing it only reminded me I wasn’t OK. I found myself wishing I could ask the DPT for forgiveness, but I had two problems. One, I’m not a shaman who believes in the existence of natural spirits. Two, DPT isn’t even “natural” anyway. I’m a just a 21st century atheist loser playing with mind bending chemicals to spice up his repetitive life. How empty. I now realised that an underlying depression was being amplified by and dominating the mood of the trip.
At 1.40am Iwas still in the thick of it. I wondered how much the piracetam could have exacerbated the searing intensity of the DPT, in both force and duration. The blockage of my right nostril was now bothering me. I rubbed it, only to find the sensation of touch alien and weird. Realising I couldn’t clear the blockage, I felt a frown come over my face. The failure to relieve this discomfort and the sensation of wearing a disgusted expression seemed to be the last straw. In frustration I sat back in my chair. The darkness of the curtains to my right became menacing. Suddenly, a horrible ominous feeling came over me; a demonic force seemed to invade my mind, showering me with searing darts of intense anxiety. Pure terror. I was going mad, totally losing it: In my confusion, I felt as if someone/something was after me and wanted to kill me. I began sweating profusely. In a few moments I’d gone from being deeply uneasy/fed-up to a state of sheer terror. With one last shred of sanity, I fumbled around and managed to find my packet of etizolam. I squeezed out four tablets and downed them with water. The terror remained as I tried to work out how much four tablets of etizolam was, whether it was enough, and whether it was too late. Having concluded four was enough, I waited…. Time moved like a snail. I told myself “you’ve taken a tranquiliser, that’ll relax you, yes, it will take away all the tension, that’s as good as making it all go away, don’t worry man, hang in there, you’ll be calm, that’s what you need to be happy…” Not convinced a mere benzo was enough to calm the mental storm, I considered popping some respiradone, but decided to wait for the etizolam to kick in. Closing my eyes, I saw vivid columns of square “acid tabs”, some with yin-yang signs. This regurgitation by my brain of a stereotypical mystical image was annoying to me. Around 1.50am, I finally felt a head change, a pleasant “swimming”. Then, a yawn. Then, at 1.55, bingo! Solid relief, in the form of a pleasant chill. A big smile broke out on my face! Saved!
This marked a total U-turn in the effects for me. Suddenly, I noticed the OEV patterning had lifted. I felt “normal”. It was so great to be back! Back in my body! That’s how it felt anyway. I was never “out of body” like on an NMDA antagonist, but the weird vibration, tension and “melting” feelings were very alien. Not only did I feel relieved, I was now feeling great. That lovely MDMA-like rush. A dead-ringer. I turned round to look at my room. The sight of the bookcase and the ceiling light dangling down filled me with delight and awe. It looked divinely beautiful. And I mean that literally. I began to feel a manifestation of God, a feeling I’ve never felt before. I could feel Him, I want to touch Him (I laughed at myself, being ardently irreligious and all…) “Speak to me God”. He was showing himself in everything around me. My mouth was wide open in amazement, I felt intense gratitude. For everything. All the beautiful people in my life. Pure love. Delight. A narcotic calm came over me, with the pleasurable feeling of movement of MDMA. A hilarious, goofy grin spread across my face and I giggled as another rush came over me. What a ride! Over the next 20-30 minutes I soared upwards in elation, then a sleepiness would come over me and I felt I should go to bed, only to soar back upwards again. Odd thoughts and feelings came into my head. I could feel the presence of father time, as a slobbering dog-like creature messing around with the speed of time. Then he was me, and at one point he was in my mouth. A dream from several nights ago suddenly came back to me in crystal clear detail. A few random stabs of paranoia jutted in now and then, but didn’t impinge on the overall mood. I felt like I understoond what Shulgin meant when he put the words “magical” and “psychedelic” together.
Around 2.30, I watched an episode of Freaks and Geeks on my PC. Everything was great…the characters, the acting. Pure hilarity. At one point I was bent over in stitches. I haven’t laughed like that in a long time That took me up to 3.15am. Thereafter, only a few intermittent memories stand out. I remember seeing the most spectacular movement tracers I’ve ever seen. And wonderful, technicolor CEVs of criss-cross patterns mounted on a lattice, rippling and shimmering. I remember gazing into the bathroom mirror, watching my face warping in a ghoulishly weird way. I was so relaxed that even the sight of my skin turning all blotchy was quite amusing. Sometime after 4am, I was lying in bed when a wave of emotion came over me. I was suddenly struck by nostalgia, and a deep sadness and that the past is gone forever. Mourning the good and bad times alike, I wept like I hadn’t wept since my last withdrawal, and it felt so good and cleansing. Around 4.30am, I attempted to hunker down. But despite the etizolam, I still felt stimulated and was beginning to get touches of akathisia. Feeling tired and self-indulgent, I popped 30mg Zoplicone at 5am. By 5.10 I was asleep. The price I paid for this was a fog of etizolam/zopiclone induced amnesia the next day.
CONCLUSIONS: This was a humbling experience and reminded me that psychedelics like DPT deserve the utmost respect and shouldn’t be used compulsively for kicks. Yet I’m also left with a troubling realisation that a few mgs of BZD made the difference between a nightmare freak-out and a blissful, even transcendental experience. So does this mean that if you pop a BZD beforehand, you can take high doses of psychedelics willy-nilly, with as much preparation as if you were having a few beers? I can’t help feeling that’s somehow not in the spirit of psychedelic exploration. But then I can’t pinpoint exactly why it is so bad either. Do anxiety and fear form a central part of the psychedelic experience? Is there a purity of experience which is lost by padding the brain with a tranquilizer? Certainly, I lost my afterglow the next day, in a haze of BZD-induced gloom (obviously, having the benzo as an antidote was essential in this case, and without it I'd have been well and truly fucked). There’s a parallel here with the argument about whether it’s acceptable to take an anti-emetic before ayahuasca to avoid the “purge”, which traditionalists consider central to the experience. Can an unchallenging psychedelic experience still be of therapeutic value?
It's true that DPT can be a very pleasurable psychedelic while it also has another much deeper sider. I wonder how big a part the piracetam played in your experience?
You'll LOVE DPT!!!