DOSE:	45 mg	vaporized	DMT	(powder / crystals)
		oral	Alcohol - Beer/Wine	(liquid)

BODY WEIGHT:

180 lb

B came by with a vial containing 500 mg of DMT powder, which he told my wife (L) and I was ten doses. He also had a crack pipe (allowing for vaporization rather than oxidation) but had forgotten to bring his scale. He was willing to eyeball it, but I insisted we go out and buy one at a headshop, since 'DMT: How and Why to Do It' made it sound like getting the dosage right could be tricky.

(Incidentally, scales that measure centigrams (0.01g) are harder to find than ones that measure decigrams (0.1g).)

Knowing the optimal dose is supposed to be 40-50mg, for each dose we loaded the scale so that the display showed 0.04g, then added *just* enough so that it read 0.05. (The theory being that this would give us somewhere between 0.045 and 0.05.) We scraped the sticky pinkish powder on to a piece of paper, then used the tip of a knife to load the pipe.

We set our cozy living room up with dim lights and low electronic music.

B went first, holding a lighter under the pipe until the powder melted (which happened pretty quickly). Once the bowl filled with white vapor, he put his lips to the stem and started inhaling, holding it in as long as possible each time.

There were a few hiccups. It became clear that this would take more than just 2-3 hits, so we switched to a candle when the lighter got too hot. He found the smoke pretty harsh and coughed a fair amount, and once inhaled too quickly and inhaled a few droplets of boiling DMT. And there was a lot to inhale -- B must have done six hits before lying back, then decided he'd only received the body high and did maybe six more. At one point he smirked and muttered 'You'll see'. Eventually (maybe five minutes after he'd started) he sat back and slipped a sleepmask over his face.

He removed the mask about 10-15 minutes later, looking pretty happy. He had had a lot of visuals, but never really felt like he'd gone somewhere else. And my dog had kicked him at one point, which he thought might have initiated his return back. He wanted to know if he'd drooled, because he thought he'd been drooling down the front of his shirt. (He had not.)

I was next. I asked L to hold the pipe and candle for me. B agreed that doing it all himself had been difficult. The smoke tasted bad (like the smell of plastic shoes), but not as harsh as I'd feared; I didn't cough much at all. And I found I didn't need to put my lips to the stem to clear the bowl of vapor -- a gentle inhalation near it did just as well. After about five tokes I started feeling physically looser, and I kept smoking. Each time I looked up the living room looked stranger and stranger. Triangular designs began to overlay the bookshelves. I asked for the music to be turned off and kept smoking. The black monolith of the TV screen seemed to become a slightly malevolent face. I started wondering why I was doing this but kept smoking. The room began to turn distinctly '8-bit'. I lay back and covered my eyes with the sleep mask.

Immediately I saw a symmetrical blossom of multicolored striped ribbons, slowly drifting towards me. Possibly one of Terrence McKenna's 'chrysanthemum mandalas' that the machine elves live behind (though I didn't think that then). I cleared my throat and heard it echo. I didn't hear much else except for the throb of the fan in the room. Could I hear whispering? I felt thirsty. I could feel a heavy weight on my face and realized at some point it was the sleepmask.

As the folding and pulsing mandala got closer and closer, I started to feel trepidation... worried that I wasn't doing it right, worried that I was 'giving into astonishment', asking myself how I would describe my experience later, and then of course criticising myself for being so in my head. I watched the colors fold and pulse, and for a moment I could see faces and maybe writing. I did my best to let go and merge with the colors, but still felt like I wasn't prepared.

I think I spaced out for a while... I don't remember much except feeling like I hadn't been breathing, prompting me to take a few deep breaths, which felt great. Again I felt like something was approaching me (not a mandala, this time, but maybe a hand?) and I physically reached my hands out in front of myself to accept it. But the visions started to fade. Spacemen? Aquariums?

I removed the mask, grabbed L's beer, and drank. B and I got into a discussion about our experiences. He admitted that he'd also felt trepidation, but hadn't wanted to mention it in case it would freak me and L out.

We agreed that DMT didn't seem to hook into the psyche like other psychedelics. I didn't have existential thoughts, didn't perceive symbolism in everything I saw or thought about. I feel like it'd be much less likely to come out of a DMT trip a quivering wreck than an LSD trip.

That said, DMT did make me aware of my tendency to want to control my experience. It's something I'd like to work on next time.

Then it was L's turn. I was still a little woozy, so B held the pipe and candle for her. She inhaled a few hits, lay back with the eyeshades, then sat up and took a few more -- more than either of us, I think. Then she lay back.

While she was lying there, B pointed out that there was a few more drops in the pipe and offered tham to me. I took a hit, but this time the smoke was extremely harsh. I was surprised L had breathed it in as easily as she had. I guess it had oxidized a little? Next time we might think about rinsing it out between uses.

When L removed the sleepmask fifteen minutes later, she smiled. Though she had had the most misgivings about the evening's adventure (and she had heard us talk about our apprehension), she described her trip as relaxing and she's looking forward to doing more in the future.

Exp Year: 2010	ExpID: 85783
Gender: Male
Age at time of experience: 34
Published: Feb 29, 2020	Views: 718
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