Citation: Quack. "One Foot in Dream-Scapes: An Experience with DMT (exp88797)". Erowid.org. Apr 12, 2021. erowid.org/exp/88797
||25 - 40 mg
||(powder / crystals)
I was walking through the desert talking to my new friend, the Ink Blot. The Ink Blot was 5' tall and made of the shadows from the cracks in the playa. True he wasn't human, but he was a long time friend... This is what I think.
(Twenty minutes before my walk). Sitting in B's tent six people huddle around a small Altoids tin. B brings out the vial named DMT, this vial has rarely been open B seemed either to fear it or not trust it. In hindsight I see why.
B emptied a little powder into the tin, he painstakingly cut 6 lines, just under 3/4'. This proved to be 1/4' too much, as was shown in mere moments. Five minutes after sniffing the lines each individual began to feel the effects, they continued to build to the level of ego death. B got up and ran out of the tent into the darkness of the desert. Everyone around me began a cycle of despair knowing death to be imminent; one friend complains of stomach pains, then all do.
Myself, almost blind from silver flushes rushing over my vision, find my last scant amounts of MJ and all toke of what's left. The sickness subsides and others return to a comfortable condition. However, I begin feeling stranger, I walks out into the desert toward a neighboring sound camp. The shadows in the cracked playa begin to pool together into a round mass, then they pull themselves up from the ground and form Ink Blot. He and myself talk about the meanings of many things and Ink Blot knows me completely, and guides to the source of intoxicating music. I dance.
Insufflated DMT does not seem to remove one completely from reality and lasts between 20 minutes and an hour. It is easier to overdo it for myself though because only a small amount is needed and too much is too much, I can't take less after I've consumed it. It is more of journey than a good screw-up, and is not easy to integrate.
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