DOSE:

smoked

DMT

BODY WEIGHT:

235 lb

A DMT Trip vs. Skydiving

I wanted to try and describe what breaking through on DMT is like.

Many things in life can be thrilling and scary; in fact, being scared is an integral part of the thrill. We go bungee jumping, take a ride on a roller coaster or, hell, if we have access to nothing more high tech as kids we might even hold our breath as long as we can. The fun part of a thrill is the danger we expose ourselves to.

I had a breakthrough experience smoking DMT tonight and, relating what I actually feel during those moments pretty much defies description. It is just something so out there, so without parallel in the realm of ordinary life that words alone can't even begin to match the actual experience. How would I explain colors to the blind or music to the deaf? There is no organ dedicated to detecting the shower of signals that make up a DMT (or Salvia!) experience. I only get access to this 'organ' during the brief interlude when I've pulled the smoke into my lungs and wait for the whammy that's sure to come.

Picture the thrill of skydiving. a person harnesses up and walk out to the tarmac. They're psyched and there is a lot of communal energy among the dive mates. They get into the plane and take off and feel a surge of anxiety and nervousness and excitement all rolled into one. And this surge just keeps on growing until the pilot levels off the climb and gives the signal. The person steps out the doorway and feels the power of the wind - or more accurately hurricane since they're likely flying at 150mph or more - and they are at the moment of truth.

DMT is sooort of like that. Except I'm sitting down and the excitement and anxiety buildup is scrunched into a mere few seconds while I light up my bowl and inhale. When I set down my bong I am at the moment of truth. There is a gateway and a hurricane awaiting me. I let slip my moorings and.... jump!

Now with parachuting as the jumper leaves the plane they are feeling an intense rush during those first few seconds. OH GOD WHATHAVEIDONESHIIIIIT but the scare is a happy, exciting allover tingle that they are enjoying intensely and the remote possibility of the 'chute not opening is the necessary ingredient to transform the ordinary into the extraordinary.

Cut back to the DMT trip: I have set the bong down and I may well say in my head the very same things as the plane jumper. Except I didn't jump out of an ordinary plane but rather a DIMENSIONAL plane. That vehicle I left and am falling away from so fast is the very personification of my sanity. And rather than looking 10,000 feet down to earth where I am to make my landing I am instead staring at the event horizon into a parallel reality that is absolutely ineffable in quality. I have in this moment no words to describe what I am sensing because I have left behind the equipment in charge of creating rational thought and the power of descriptive analysis in an airplane that is now far, far away from my reach.

And I am alone. I am so goddamn alone. Out in this ether falling towards a singularity that is not within my power to relate to. When it is said that I am experiencing ego loss what that means is that I am in a sensory deprivation tank with all brain circuits shut down except for the ones in charge of experiencing visual stimuli and the one responsible for experiencing panic - and both of those circuits are being overloaded! The winds of the dive through the atmosphere are here replaced with primal elements whizzing by at incalculable speed. There are crazy, colorful and disjointed hallucinations that come in sheets, waves, strings and sundry fragments of pseudo-reality of impossible geometries. I hear a psychotic, oscillating hum perhaps with a tinge of sub-audible chatter. Touch, too, is malformed so that if I happen to brush a surface I'll only sense a dirtied texture that shouldn't be. Everything feels wrong. And, all the meanwhile, I'm rendered senseless to take any note or appreciation of the experience; much like tossing a just-thawed-out caveman onto Times Square on New Year's eve.

As I approach the ground on my gentle ride back down to my landing site my mind is swirling with euphoria. This is so effin cool man!! WOW, yippeee! God that was scary, can't wait to do it again! On the other hand, the DMT breakthrough exhausts itself slowly and tiny pores of reality - this reality, Terra Firma - open like fleeting portholes. I am not yet capable of thought as such because most of my mind's processors are still offline. My sight works, sort of, except it's been given a sheen or filter that only relays the vaguest inkling of familiar surroundings. Eons ago this locale resembled somewhere I have been before. Perhaps I sense this much with all the computing power of the average housefly. Familiar surroundings draped in electric veneers of alien-looking symbols; a mocking, cruel and twisted facsimile of somewhere faintly memorable but still distant and incomprehensible.

SLAP! I hit the ground and momentarily bounce off the dirt as the wind catches my parachute and then, like a dying kite, it falls to the ground too. My trip is over. My heart though is still racing and my mind is bathed in dopamine and a healthy dose of whatever neurotransmitter is responsible for shit-my-pants scary with the sum effect that I just had a fantastic blast that I'll never forget.

DMT's hold on my psyche is now waning too and the visual filters are slowly easing their grip. I can literally feel more of my brain's various sectors waking up and taking command. I can't talk yet for if I do all that comes out is babbling but that which was faintly familiar is now fully so even if still bedecked with otherworldly auras. I see my hand and at some level I recognize that thing as perhaps mine but I have no idea how to operate it nor what I would operate it for. And then I regain the ability to move and a few seconds later I can think again in almost-whole sentences even. And I take my first bold steps into speech which is yet undeveloped and sounds to my inner ear like the scratchy voice of a century old grammophone come to life in grandma's attic. I keep tuning out while the residual waves of DMT die down and I can compose myself.

And so on, little by little, I am welcome back to my self. And much as in the case of the skydiver for the next few hours pretty much ALL I can think about is what I went through. And I try to tell those around me, those who never left on this incredible voyage, what it was like. I summon details and all the adjectives within my grasp to explain so that they too can vicariously feel what just happened. But deep down I know my descriptive efforts fail to convey the sense, the rush, the abject terror.

Exp Year: 2013	ExpID: 100955
Gender: Male
Age at time of experience: 44
Published: May 18, 2021	Views: Not Supported
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DMT (18) : General (1), Unknown Context (20)