I decided I should put this in a more permanent forum:
I've done DPT a few times now. Two of those times were from that shitty brown batch that was going around about a few months ago. Those all had minimal effects. Might as well have been a tiny dose of 4-AcO-DMT that lasts 45 minutes.
BUT then I got the good shit. Now my experiences with this too are not exactly the best things to go off of but here you go.
The first I was just sick of bullshitting around. I had never had a breakthrough dose of DMT. I was getting pretty deep into my MXE phase. So I decided to do a breakthrough dose of DPT with a M-hole dose, mixed together into 2 fat lines for insufflaton. [100mg DPT, probs 200mg MXE? (tolerance) I can't remember] I don't remember the trip, but I remember coming out of it with my whole room flanging horribly, and I KNEW that I had just experienced something beautiful. I felt reborn. But still, I had been a dumbass, round 2 would be more cautious.
LOL, barely. I knew I had to go low on the MXE, but I really wanted just a tiny bit to ease body load and make sure I was immersed more easily, and calm myself for what was to come. I snorted about 45mg MXE (again tolerance, that's very little to me), and started weighing out my DPT, deliberately dawdling to let the MXE take full effect. It was probably around 40 minutes later that I snorted 120mg DPT.
The come up was weird. I was vibrating and shaking, my vision was going to shit. In one way I knew I was in for a hell of a ride, in another way, I was still surprised by the fact that the feeling didn't go any further. It just stayed at the exact same level of come-up anticipation crap.
I don't remember breaking through. But there I was. I can't even exactly say what it was like i there. It was very much like experiencing a bunch of dreams in a row; mostly short scenes involving people and set pieces and back drops. Others were more surreal; swirls of colors and geometric patterns not unlike DMT (again, never broken through on DMT). The consistency was how quickly each one flitted by. Little snapshots. Tiny fragments of experience. A postcard image, a sound and an emotion to go with it. But then I was on to the next one immediately after.
When I came out, I was flanging hard again. My body was racked with all of the jitters and shivers, wobbly knees and shaky eyes, that accompany a very large dose of any tryptamine IME. I didn't remember much, but some of it was still there. But as I came further and further down, it started slipping away from me, much like remembering a dream first thing in the morning, but by the time I'm finished with my coffee I've forgotten it. It just faded away. I lay in my bed trying to figure out which bits I could hold on to, and slowly I just gave up. I couldn't remember a damn thing about the trip; I just know that when I came out of it I had the sense that I had just lived 1000 lifetimes, and less than 30 minutes of music had gone by (when tripping on anything, measuring time with music tends to be far easier than with a clock IME. How many songs have played tends to make much more sense than how many minutes have gone by). It was as if I had lived different versions of my own life, in other universes; but there was most certainly no ego death. I was me the whole time. Whereas with the M-hole combo I came to having to piece together my entire self, this trip I just had to piece together the trip.
But I couldn't. I just sat on my bed and smoked a cig, content with the knowledge that I had experienced 1000 different lives in 30 minutes, and that I had come out of it feeling completely rejuvenated. I felt cleansed and blessed. I then understood why The Temple of True Inner Light (those nuts that use DPT as their holy sacrament in a psychedlic version of christianity) does this stuff. That was the closest thing I've ever had to a religious experience.
Then most recently, I IMed about 30-35mg (I'd dare say some got lost in the cigarette filter). That was a strange one. first of all it felt MUCH cleaner than snorting it. The come-up was steady, and crystal clear. The odd part was that I wasn't stimulated at all like most drugs make me. Instead I had to hit my bong and then lie down to let the trip happen. I just HAD to. It was like a bigger, heaving, and longer lasting version of the DMT blanket. The lady pressing down on your entirety. That... blanket; idk. Anyway, I lay in my bed with eyes closed, sort of looking at some CEVs, though there weren't that many; but mostly letting my mind wander. Thinking about my life, some people. Just drifting. And it was remarkably metallic. I say that in the sense that it was hard and flat. I was not emotional; I was analytical.
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OH! I forgot that I 40mg of DPT while peaking on 300mg of DPH and 888mg DXM polystirex. It was interesting, I could tell that it enriched the experience, and I could feel some of it in my body and see it in the visuals, but for the most part it was drowned out my the other chemicals. When I cracked a few whippets later on though the psychedelia became slightly more apparent against the dissociative backdrop.
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looking at this thread got my head going, and it is a beautiful fucking day here in NYC (pic related, no filter), so I decided to take a walk in the park and snort some DPT among the trees.
It's amazing how different each experience has been so far. This one was far less pushy, far more serene:
I weighed out about 60mg of powder, knowing that I was going to lose some in the wind, and then walked through the park, found a nice log to sit on, poured the DPT into the nook between thumb and forefinger on the back of my hand, and went at it. It went down surprisingly easily, though I'm sure I couldn't have done more than 40mg. The wind did get a good bit of it.
As I got restless and stood up, I noticed mild visual activity, the beginning of patterns and colors, but mostly I just felt uplifted. Instead of the DMT blanket it was like a perfect snapshot of a low dose LSD trip (albeit visually more geometric) in terms of the tranquility I felt. Sure I had the body jitters, but the world was serene. Though I walked to keep my limbs from shivering in the wind, my mind felt the full warmth of the sun. It could have just been a windy day of summer.
I wondered if there would be more, if I would be taken by surprise, but everything was just the way it was; and it was wonderful. I wandered the park for a bit, sat on that bench or this bench, took some photos of puddles n trees n shit, all things that I'm fairly sure are what normal people do in parks. Could be wrong.
It was only only on the way back, after the wind had picked up and sent me homeward, that I realized the extent of my intoxication. As I passed a few people on the street, and stumbled into my apartment building's entryway, I realized that intoxication was indeed what I felt. I was silly and loose, chatty and such. But then in talking to my roommate the Tryptamine nature made it's presence known once again. I realized that I was ascribing lots of significance to little things, as I went on and on to my roommate about the light in our apartment, and how it had changed with the tilt of the earth, our dog basking in a square of window light that had traveled across the floor in the last month. I tend to go on weird tangents like that, so he didn't suspect anything, engaging me politely and agreeing that indeed we had nice afternoon light coming from the west facing windows.
I took .5mg Clonazepam (out of my 3-4mg prescribed daily) and smoked my bong as I talked to him and the jitters quickly disappeared. My mind was both still kind of spaced and yet very grounded. In some ways I feel more out of it now than I did while peaking. I just felt so 'in tune' so to speak.