Brutal Caveman Wasteland
Citation:   GreatArc. "Brutal Caveman Wasteland: An Experience with 4-AcO-DMT (exp110776)". Sep 16, 2019.

62 mg oral 4-AcO-DMT (powder / crystals)
[Erowid Note: The dose described in this report is very high, potentially beyond Erowid's 'heavy' range, and could pose serious health risks or result in unwanted, extreme effects. Sometimes extremely high doses reported are errors rather than actual doses used.]
Well, at least I'm laughing now.

I joined the club, I guess. Finally feel like I get all the inside jokes now or popped the cherry.

Jesus Christ, 3 hours of nightmare psychosis, paranoia, fear, weeping and lamenting over the smoking crater of my life and contemplating the sorrow of my bellybutton. Wow! It's like, change the record please! This guy's psyche is broken, I'd like to get off.

It's great, though. Sort of like going through some ridiculously scary haunted house and getting just completely terrified then getting every atom of your dignity and self worth torn to shreds and all that crawls out is this quivering little pile of fear and anxiety and abuse and .......and then the lights come on.

And it's over. And it was all in your head!

As traumatic as that was (and it was a seriously painful and hard trip.... to hell with it, this will turn into a bit of a detailed trip report...

4-Ac0-DMT 62mg


Ahhh, this is a good one. I am going to be honest from the outset, I'm not going to make myself look so good with some of this stuff, but in the spirit of full disclosure amongst my fellow explorers, the true record is more important than my looking good in the story. Where to begin? Perhaps with what I learned? In fact, the title of this trip report is going to be WHAT I LEARNED AND HOW I LEARNT IT:

1.) There is a difference between confidence and being a cocky asshole.

2.) Hide your phone.

3.) There is victory in defeat if you have the sense to learn from it, laugh about it, and take it like a man.

I think that's all I learned. Now, How I Learned these things.

So, I am still a rookie explorer who prides himself on being careful, prepared, and take harm reduction and respect for the chemicals very seriously. I like to think of myself as being a responsible explorer. So, perhaps it was because I've taken some pretty high doses of 4-AcO-DMT, and maybe tripping had become a bit of a banality to me in that expectation and familiarity had got me 'mailing it in', and convinced me that from the little anxieties I'd handled up until this point that I could handle anything, and that I was going to try

Up until then, each dose has been a deeper dive to reasonably test the boundaries of where I'd been before, in a mindset of curiosity, exploration and respect. One where calm and focus were my tools and anxieties and panic were the enemy.

For some reason, tonight I was overcome with an uncharacteristic curiosity to discover what would happen if I brought an attitude of aggression, confidence and flat out rock n' roll to this whole goddamned thing. What if, instead of a tool or a teacher, tonight I made it my opponent?

In a very Dr. Jeckyl & Mr Hyde moment, I did what was probably the wrong thing to many of you--and in most ways I agree with you that I was foolish, but withhold judgement just for a few moments and, if you make it to the end I'll likely agree with any critical judgements you might have to say. But I decided to slam a way higher dose than anyone is supposed to take (62mg). Now if you understand that I am trying to be as honest as possible no matter how foolish I might look in this story, please trust me enough that I am not trying to report some high dose out of bravado or prideful recklessness. This is simply the story of what happened when I decided to use the drug in the way I did:

As per usual, I had prepared my home with as much forethought as possible. I am generally a little fragile and hypersensitive to anxieties when my senses first get magnified, and so I tidy my home, take care of my stomach with ginger and water, make my room like a wonderful spa or hospital setting, with clean towels on the bed, fans, cool water and wet cloths, etc. In essence, the room spoke of nothing but comfort and security, all needs had been taken care of, and looking around in any direction no matter how confused, one would sense the message that someone had taken care of things and that within this room no harm would come.

Ordinarily I prefer to rest and not pay attention to the come-up, thinking of it more as a disorienting effect to be passed through to step through the doorway into balance on the other side. I scooped a heaping dose of powder onto my scale, 62mg. And the part of me that was committed to the aggression experiment told me to take whatever I portioned out. Again, I am a type-B personality with low self-esteem and pride myself on caution and respect for the drug. This time I am trying to summon up as much aggression and confidence as possible to see what happens when you bring that into the other side. I slam down the drink in one giant gulp, crush the empty bottle and toss it across the room as if I hadn't a care in the world. Spent the next half an hour pacing and jumping up and down like a prizefighter before a fight. I remember distinctly shouting in my own mind, 'let's kick this thing as hard as possible and see what you're made of, you son of a bitch!! Let's go!!'

Unbelievably potent come up, heavy visual disorientation flooding my brain. Immediately I am walking on sea legs like a boxer when they take the first solid punch to the head and it scatters them and their brain lets them know if they're in trouble, or if they're going to do something about it. Fight or flight response is kicking into overdrive and for an eternally long second I am waiting to get the report back from my nervous system....and it screams out 'Fight, mother fucker!!!'. I am like some sort of lunatic marine corps grunt face down in the mud, silently screaming 'gimme more! let's kick this thing again and see what you can do!!!'

Crashing right through to what seems like an instant peak. My body feels powerful, like a sinewy ape with thick cords of muscle and I am no longer some old, weakened, veteran warrior of the ape clan, but somehow turbo-charged bolts of blue lightning have blown off my uncomfortable exo-skeleton and what remains is nothing but solid oak with some hard goddamned bark on it. It is as if my body has awoken from a broken spell and long-forgotten strength is pouring through me. For a moment, I allow myself a 'holy shit!', but still have the presence of mind to not even grant it a modicum of respect. No, at this point, I simply COMMAND reality through sheer force of will. My vision is shaking like I am in some sort of earthquake, but invulnerable to it since it's coming from within me. My head is swimming with dynamic rumbling and cracking sounds and the distinct sound of the white noise of an amplifier being turned way up and the anticipation you feel when you know something incredibly LOUD is about to come blasting out of it. Maybe so loud that it is going to be painful and blow your ear drums? Anticipation and suspense are coming at me in waves and all I can do is keep kicking against them, slamming them as hard as I can to see if we can keep trading body blows of complete disorientation. I am trying to do damage I won't walk away from and squeeze ever last bit of intensity out of this drug as I can.......

We are locked into a suicide nosedive.

This is not boxing, this is not even a brawl.

I am gasping for air, but not from the lack of it. I am filling up chambers of my lungs and expanding them further than I have ever done before. I am getting maximal O2 capacity. Wrinkles in my lungs which have never come out unfold for the first time as I push the elastic limits of inhalation and command them to pull in more and more, like some race-mad quarter horse that just sees red, and life, and the fury of the home stretch.

It is a brutal, ugly, contest between the drug and I--it slams me as hard as it can, and I am psychically slamming right back.
There is no defence going on, no strategy. It is elemental. We are just trading blows until one of us yields, my will against its, and I WILL not yield.
The higher the discomfort, the more it feeds back just raw, caveman, adrenaline in some sort of sado-masochistic feedback loop where pain is pleasure and the more fear I feel, the more powerful I get. Visuals are faster and more overwhelming than ever experienced. Spiralling flat planes of white lace sparkling with flashes of iridescence trying to make me dizzy and fall or look away and surrenderrrrrrrr....Arrrrrggggghhhhhhrrrrr!!!!!!
And then it happens-----I WINNNN.....NNNNN....NNN.NNNNN............



Like I was hit in the back of the head with a 2x4, I am sprawled out across my bed on my belly. No power. No victory. Just a weak man pinned to the bed, limbs heavy with exhaustion.

Discomfort. Loneliness. I look around my house and glimpse nothing but scenes of a disordered mind. It screams loneliness and inner distress.
Discomfort. Loneliness. I look around my house and glimpse nothing but scenes of a disordered mind. It screams loneliness and inner distress.

I conquered it, and it showed me the Wasteland.

It showed me my ruined life and lost marriage.
It showed me my sexual inadequacies and told me the story of how my wife would leave me for another man.
It showed me wandering around the ruins of some phantom future, life, and happinesses waiting for us as we started our long journey towards the light together, that I will never ever get to touch.
It showed me what I can never have, and never get to feel.
It showed me something worse than punishment, it showed me the indifferent truth of my life and all the pain and humiliation just honestly looking at it straight on could cause me.
It was like being a ghost.

Some deep, reptilian part of my brain was still rolling around trying to reason through the smoke and ash.
'Of course. I asked for this. I wanted to show this thing who is in charge and I kicked this thing as hard as I could to provoke a response. It only makes sense that it would kick back, and restore an equilibrium of sorts. I wasn't the boss of it...I tried to make myself its master and it wouldn't abide being treated that way. I disrespected it, and am paying the price. It is fair. This is what is owed. It never tried to dominate me, what a fool I was to try and dominate it.'

I wept and felt humiliated. I felt like an idiot who is unworthy of entrance to the other side. Extreme system overload. I am a mentally ill person and I am screwing around with something that, just like love and sex and relationships, accomplishments and fulfillment....pride....., I don't really get to have or keep. That is for other people to get to feel and have, and not for me.

I thought about my extreme loneliness. How I had no family, no friends. No healthy connections to anyone or anything. My life was such a sick joke, that I don't have anyone I can call out to in need or ask for comfort or security, or basic friendship without it feeling like some incredibly awkward and cringing weirdness. That I am a person to be simply uncomfortably tolerated and my presence a thing to be 'gotten-through' not enjoyed or welcomed.

Anxiety is total. I don't know what anything is for or why anything is for. All I know is I'm doing everything wrong and not flourishing. I am completely confused about what is happening to me, why I took this thing, and how do I just stop summoning this pulsing stream of pain and intensity and distress no matter what I try!?!?

After some hours I gained back some lucidity, and relief from the Wasteland. I could only see the vague outlines of the smashed buildings through the smoke and dust.

I send a text message to the wife of the married man that my wife left me for. Someone with whom I am forever connected through the sick and perverse pain and humiliation we both suffered together. We try and be of comfort or healing to one another, but in some visceral way, we are each the mocking face of our pain. A living reminder of why it is that we know one another and of our worst and most humiliating secret pain.

She has a life of her own, and she's moved on in most ways. I have not. She sends me a message late at night saying she is heading to bed, is it anything important?

No, I say. Just having a bit of a bad moment, but I'm fine. I don't want to be some black cloud or walking wound to her, driving her thoughts and mood to a dark place. She deserves better than that, and that is all I have to give.

I send a message to my ex-sister-in law, my ex-wife's sister in any case whatever one calls that. A wonderful girl who had hung in there for me longer than anyone of my in-laws when my world fell to pieces. She is going to bed and has an early day at work in the morning. Am I ok?

I lie and say I am, and that I was just checking in to see how she was doing. She knows something is up and something is wrong. Haha, I tell her I am growing womanly and hormonal in my old age, and to get some sleep. I am just in the doldrums of the world's most popular indoor sport--feeling sorry for myself. Get some sleep and sorry for disturbing you. Again she asks if everything is alright, and that she is worried. I am cringing and cursing myself for this brain-addled decision to reach out and bug someone late at night, imagining future embarrassment once my head has cleared.

And with that. The trip was done.

I should not have let myself text while hallucinating - I was a goddamned maniac! Jesus Christ, what was THAT all about, you weepy weirdo!?! Wow, so that's what happens when you want to challenge this stuff and go in thinking you're King Kong's bigger brother! Haha! You sure got spanked pretty good, I've gotta admit. But still, that was exciting and you hit the highs and the lows, right!?! Now you know a little more and you've gotten through some tough stuff. Just like every other time, you just put it back together. And you know what? The truth is that you CAN kick this thing as hard as you like and trust that you'll put it back together again. The fear and pain didn't get brought down with you, it was already down there waiting for you. The trick is to put it in its place. You can take it out and touch it because it belongs to you. And you don't have to be afraid or ashamed of that. Something has been learned and you have come through ok.

At first I thought the drug wanted to teach me a lesson; 'ok pal, you want to play rough? that's fine with me. You're in a peculiar mood tonight and want to thrash it out down here with me? we can do that. You're in the mood to play around with a sleeping wolf, that's fine, but dominance is going to be established once you realize we don't stop playing the game once it gets a little too rough for you. I'm gonna teach you a lesson...'

But the truth is, the drug wasn't a sadist.
It was just an equal and opposite reaction to the intensity I fed into it.
It didn't want to put me in my place.
The drug didn't want anything.
Because it's just a drug.
And it was all just me.

First, thank you to anyone who got through all of that. I hope at least there was something of interest in there for you.

Second, I hope you can understand why I asked you to suspend judgement a little. I did a reckless thing, and there was a consequence, but there was also something of goodness and value learned and brought back, so I am undecided if there really can be such a thing as a 'bad' trip if you get back in one piece without harm, no matter what happened.

Lastly, I hope you understand the spirit in which I wrote this report and included a lot of personal pain instead of choosing to make vague references to it. I think trip reports are of immense importance for harm reduction, for comparing experiences, for the sake of curiosity and the science we are very much engaged in whether it seems like it or not. We are compiling a record the way we have listened to those who've gone before us, and leaving it behind with the spirit of goodwill that thinks we should also leave something behind or bring back something for everyone else to share if they wish. And I think we owe each other the respect to trust each other with honesty. It keeps us safe in an endeavour like this one, if we are committed to doing our very best to be as accurate as possible.

You may think what I did was stupid, that I was immature and disrespectful of these substances, promoting practices and attitudes in conflict with harm reduction and safe use, and--as I said before--I will not argue with you. The only 'defense' I will offer is that I truly believe it was a worthwhile experiment, that I truly do believe in harm reduction and safe use
I truly believe it was a worthwhile experiment, that I truly do believe in harm reduction and safe use
, and that I do not advise (nor discourage) anyone to dose that high or bring these attitudes to the drugs thoughtlessly or without consideration. This was very much an exploration of how to hit the drug in different ways and see what kind of effects are produced. Without taking time to write a report like this, it would have been far more pointless and reckless.

Thank you all again, I am very deeply appreciative of this community and getting to read your ideas and experiences.


Exp Year: 2017ExpID: 110776
Gender: Male 
Age at time of experience: 38
Published: Sep 16, 2019Views: 2,074
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4-AcO-DMT (387) : Difficult Experiences (5), Bad Trips (6), Therapeutic Intent or Outcome (49), Alone (16)

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