Citation: Honesty. "Best/Most Frightening Event of My Life: An Experience with 4-AcO-DMT (exp61799)". Erowid.org. Apr 26, 2007. erowid.org/exp/61799
I was in Chelsea with my friends, and I had 200 mg 4-AcO-DMT with me. My friend, Harry, and I weighed out 22 mg doses and placed them in gel capsules. There were a few people at the apartment, although I only knew two of them. I sold two capsules and took one myself, orally, as did Harry.
Harry, Alice (who did not take any), Vince, and I decided to take a walk to Times Square, with a skateboard.
Harry noticed the effects come on very quickly, as is usually the case for him with drugs in general. I, however, felt virtually no effects except marked drowsiness, which seems to be present at the beginning of every 4-AcO-DMT trip. I had done the chemical before at ~10 mg, which produced intense physical and intellectual euphoria, and based on all the reports out there, I was excited for what is commonly described a shroom-like trip, minus the nausea of shrooms.
We entered a pizzeria that was adorned with orange and green neon lights, with mirrors everywhere. Harry described it as 'heaven,' and decided to just sit down and feel the beauty of this particular aesthetic. It was awkward for the rest of us, however, as everyone was looking at us, as we did not even order anything.
I left the pizzeria and everyone followed. We were near Times Square and found a sculpture, which we skateboarded around for a little while. Harry was starting to feel the profound euphoria of the chemical, while I was still pretty much at baseline. Vince was feeling the effects also, as he had put the powder in water, allowing for quicker absorption. He became very introverted, and it was uncomfortable to be around him. Once we reached Times Square proper, Harry was disappointed with its chaotic modernity, describing it as a 'Ninja Turtle city' wherein he felt he would be 'stabbed' at every corner, although he also found it very goofy. I was still not tripping. I decided that, due to the social dynamic of the crazy situation, I would need to depart with Harry and leave Vince and Alice behind, who went back to the apartment.
Thinking I had a tryptamine tolerance from a few days prior, when I took 10 mg 4-AcO-DMT, I decided, with the persuasion of Harry, to snort some more. Accidentally, I snorted the entire 22 mg pill. I was in for a surprise.
I immediately felt a strange tingling in the right part of my brain (the same side I snorted it). I kept this to myself, as I did not want to alarm Harry. We entered a touristy pizzeria, whereupon everyone stared at us. We went to the basement level, found a table, and started talking (it was rather cold outside).
At first, I found myself feeling quite vapid but also euphoric. I let Harry do all the talking, and it was hard to please him as a good friend, in that I didn't take much interest in his dreams. He accused me of being 'one of those people who wants a happy life,' which I found profound. I believe he was right. He likened my state to a stoner or an opiate user, who does not appreciate the insanity and the mind-expansion that is psychedelics. While at this time, he may have been right, I had certainly had very cognitive trips before, and, as you may imagine, I was about to have the cognitive trip of my life.
Suddenly I noticed that the table was full of patterns and I knew I was tripping hard. People around me seemed fake, like stock characters in a universal play, they all performed a certain function, embodied a certain essence, and I could not imagine exceptions to the rule. I realized that Alice, my ex-girlfriend, was 'pure,' for many reasons into which I shall not delve, and I suddenly felt the urge to find her and hold her. Harry was beginning to take on a very ugly appearance, and his smile was terrifying. He was doodling on a bunch of receipts, in a very psychedelic, end-of-the-world manner, and was insecure about the drawings that were coming out. (The drawings were tiny and scraggily.)
I informed Harry that I was tripping hard with intense visuals (majestic and green-tinted), and told him that recently in New Jersey I had been hanging out with 'insane' (they are not really insane, but rather honest) people, and I asked him if he knew what that was like. This was directed at him as a hostile rhetorical question, because I knew he did not know what this was like. I informed him that I needed to leave - I needed to go on a journey to find Alice. He was welcome to come, but I needed to go that instant. He could not abandon his receipts, however, and called me an asshole.
It was very difficult to walk, I felt that I was melting with each step I took, and I was insanely euphoric. (Moreso than ecstasy). Even though the pizzeria was closed, the man at the door let me go in and out several times, saying 'He's all right!' I was getting lots of calls from Harry, who informed me that he had nowhere to sleep that night, as he could not reach his quasi-girlfriend. I told him that everything would be all right, that he would live, etc. He replied that he knew he would live, but that it was an inconvenience nonetheless, and he was very mad at me.
The walk from Times Square to 30th St. was the most visual experience of my life. It looked like everything was in digital video, and all traffic lights were green and all cross walk signs were white. I felt like a tiny king, stalking the streets, clad in jewels, and invincible. I knew the city would take care of me (it seemed that no one was around), and I was singing aloud to myself, 'New York City is the place to be!' I called Alice, who had taken a Xanax to fall asleep, and informed her that I now realized her goodness, and was sorry I had rejected her in the past. She was all-understanding, although sedated from the Xanax, and told me to come to her apartment so that we might sleep (literally) together.
Unfortunately and fortunately, once I got to 30th street, something very intense happened. After seeing a lot of police cars, my left arm suddenly went numb, and I was sure I was dying of a heart-attack. I was so sure that I walked up to the cops and asked them, 'Hello, I think I'm dying. Can you help me?' After some blunt conversation they called for an ambulance. I called my dad and told him what was happening. He was drunk (it was 12 AM), and seemed shock, but more because he thought that I was under arrest. I told him I thought I was having a heart-attack and would call him back because an ambulance was coming.
Before the ambulance came, more cops came. They were very mean to me, despite my being an honest, vulnerable baby-like person. I told them that I was tricked into doing the drug, and that it wasn't coke. (They thought it was coke.) It seemed like a classic, NYC-gritty movie: they taunted me about being from NJ, and about doing drugs, etc. They all appeared very small to me, like horrible midgets. (By this point, the visuals - I should say VISUAL - were constant, in that everything looked a certain way and did not change. I was in a different reality.) It was the most horrible feeling I had ever felt in my life, by far.
When the ambulance came, they told me to take my glasses with me, which were on the ground. I said I didn't need them, and I guess they felt some remorse, and urged me to take them. As I was carted away, one cop said triumphantly, 'Bye bye!' and to me this signaled that I was going to die. In the ambulance, there was a fat black man and a tiny Asian man. At times I loved them, and could see that they were helping me, and at other times, I was scared that they were literally retarded beings who could not understand me or help me. I wondered if they would torture me, and asked, 'Are you going to make me into one of those vegetable people?' The asian man said, 'No, we wouldn't do that to you.' The black man was very playful with me, offering many riddles, which kept me occupied in my frenzied, psychedelic state, and, although his eyes bulged out terrifyingly, I kept saying, 'Man, you're good!' and I asked him to hold my hand. He laughed and said that they had nurses to do that, at the hospital. Although I am not gay, I knew, even in my state (or should I say BECAUSE OF my state) that there was a lot of homophobic tension in the ambulance.
Basically, the ambulance ride consisted of me getting cold, then hot, then thinking I was dying and accepting death peacefully (a great feeling), only to imagine the prospect of eternal, torturous questioning from retarded people who could not understand me and would not let me die. THAT was terrifying, ladies and gentlemen. For an example: he asked what designer drug I did, and I said 4-AcO-DMT, to which he responded DMD? DMQ? DMR? etc. Despite me cooperative state, I did not think to ask for a benzo or an antipsychotic, and in retrospect, I am thankful they did not give me one.
They gave me a portable IV drip and attached all sorts of monitor-nodes to my body. In the ER anteroom, I was still frightened, but nonetheless euphoric and interested in everything going on. I connected with a lot of 'insane' patients, who told me, 'Enjoy the ride, it won't last long!' How they were right.
I found myself loving women more than ever for their caringness. There were also two gay men in the ER who took excellent care of me, who I loved. I was bonding with everyone like a child, it was intense. I noticed that I was still tripping, although at this point I knew that I would not die, even though I thought I'd suffer permanent physical and psychological damage, which still did not bother me. Everyone looked like a comical animal to me, and I couldn't stop smiling. The head nurse, who was amped on coffee, seemed to twitch and speak at 1000 mph, and, although she was ugly to me, I asked her to sleep with me, to which she responded, 'That would be a negative.' Everyone admired my snuggliness, and talked about me in a hushed voice.
It was sad to come down from that infantile world of insane fear but also intense interest and euphoria. For example, even at the peak of the terror, when I thought I would not be allowed to die, I did not mind, and felt that I would be perpetually interested. I found myself making some calls and TM's to tell people I was okay, and I tried to abandon my wallet and phone at several points, even though they would keep putting them back in my pocket.
I gradually came down and did not sleep. I left Bellevue at 7 AM, and walked cross-town to my friends apartment. The experience changed my life for the better, and I would not change anything about it. I now find it much easier to love and care about others and myself.
Note: my hand broke out into hives during the experience, and there is still a mark there, about a week later. Otherwise, I don't think I was damaged physically, even though at the time I was sure I would die.
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