DOSE:

smoked

DMT

BODY WEIGHT:

160 lb

The first I ever heard mention regarding dimethyltryptamine was from a friend of a friend, quoted some 4 or 5 years ago now:

'[DMT is like] spiralling down a double helix into Eternity'

Obviously, with a preceeding reputation like that, it's hard to get a chemical out of your head. I first took a hit of DMT with my good friends about 18 months or so ago, on a bed, and found myself propelled far - very far - but only into a void between galaxies. I could see them swirling, dancing in the distance, in the black; thus, I was still occupying a material position in the confines of timespace. And so it went - far, but not FURTHUR, to quote the Merry Pranksters.. I had a trial or two with some crystals furnished me by that dude with the hair at a recent festival, but the material was wet and I idiotically rushed into the thing without fanning it dry.

Born in the UK, I am currently living on an island in South-East Asia. A few weeks ago I began my experiments with the crystalline DMT sent via airmail to me by my oldest friend, a molecular biology graduate, long an explorer of the Mindfield, a man who's courage and tenacity I have unceasing respect for. After making a lightbulb vaporiser, following a link sent by my old friend, I undertook a couple of fairly uninspiring forays into Hyperspace. I had thought that my lightbulb was simply too inefficient at getting the necessary molecule into the necessary antennae, but tonight my prejudice was thankchristedly found utterly wanting. After some funky sex with my lady I decided to while away a few moments experimenting with my pipe before she served the steamed fish with lime dinner we've just finished with. A welcome feed. Especially after today. Today I was working - on the weekend no less! - after having been partially duped by a colleague into going in, and thus dessicating my plan to drop the LSD that has been patiently nestled in my freezer for some 5 weeks. So, as for my mindset, it was utterly blank, I was absolutely not expecting anything from this homemade smoker with only a half weekend left. But fortune favours the blankminded, I suppose: I loaded the pipe with a little more material than before, ensured that my modifications had resulted in an airtight chamber, and proceeded.

After an indeterminate period spent mostly adjusting my breath - and checking I still had it - I felt like I had shakily awoken - that feeling you get, when I look back on a dream, and realise there was no scene change between speaking with John to rutting with Jane to discussing such-and-such with so-and-so, and so forth. There was no ending or beginning in the shift that satisfies me looking back now. And so I found myself in Hyperspace - and I mean HYPE-ERR. This Thing was large, presumably limitless, and spectacularly enlivened by multiform luminosities and illuminosities that brought about giggles - strangely flanged and metallicised, initially - and then awed utterings of 'Christ..' My immediate thought was, 'McKenna was right, he was spot on with the landscape'.. Something I noticed, even on failed trials of the weeks previous to this strange Becoming, is that it is not just tricky but IMPOSSIBLE to determine where life emerges from structure. The whole thing is either somewhere in between the two, somewhere beyond, or in entirely anOther catagory that makes this tiny, tiny message obsolete. Anyway, the fact remains in me, life and landscape are indistinguishable to a human observer - much as our quantum physics would suggest even here, on this flat plane. And so, I thought to myself - even in spite of this insight - 'Let's get to brass tacks, where in hell are these fabled 'machine elves'?!'

And literally before I realised it, I saw them - they had been in my face all along, spinning vortices of bejewelled energies between their 'hands'; I began a fraction-of-an-instant's self-congratulation before shutting myself up, telling myself to respect the situation, and look and possibly learn about their doings. These Beings were seemingly showing me something, some manner of harnessing or manipulating - literally manipulating, from the French 'mains', 'hands' - light or energy: Whatever they had between themselves it was certainly non-material, some kind of leashed tornado of hyperpigmentation. The implication of this is that we are capable of making sense of their behaviour: I find it hard to accept that they would be so involved in the teachings they are offering, otherwise. There was no urgency that I could detect, which runs a little counter to McKenna's speeches. To my mind they were so far into the beyond techno-intellectually (and I don't mean to say they were pedants, or preachers, or anything) that you may as well call them indifferent. We are simply not equipped with the necessary databanks required for full translation of the Flash - yet.

Coming down I heard the metallic sawtoothing, playboating sear of Elven grammar, and found myself welling up in gratitude that I, a mere nugget of flesh and mindfield - a mayfly - could find myself in the presence of such an awesome demonstration of Life's ability to grow and learn and impart and play.

I have a couple more doses left in my foil... Inshallah I can offer you a few further tastes of my developing rapport with the gigantic Gods and Godesses of this Thing; Gods with taste, Gods who dwell Here, in some kind of Pandimensional Maze of Light and Lights.

Journey well fellow prisoners of matter; I spunk fortune and focus at you... The last thing I ought to say is this: We find ourselves within a portion of history which has both the insight and the chemical capability to harness this molecule, nearly pure even on the street - that friend of mine who 'always gets there first' certainly extracted a very clean batch, and he, I assure you, has no access to a conventional laboratory space.

Incidentally, the idea that the DMT smoke is harsh is a fabulous myth that has somehow found a base - a voice, indeed many voices - in our subculture: halfway through the second toke it's a job to even feel my body anyway.

p.s. I am listening to Shpongle's Nothing Lasts. Peace.

Exp Year: 2009	ExpID: 80764
Gender: Male
Age at time of experience: 25
Published: Jan 26, 2021	Views: 588
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DMT (18) : Entities / Beings (37), General (1), Unknown Context (20)