Yuri
Rising Star
Following is an in depth description of my first three experiences with smoked DMT as per my best recollection. Each time the dose was about the size of a match head, give or take. I've heard estimates ranging anywhere from the head of a pin to the tip of an eraser, which really isn't helpful.
The first time I smoked I decided to dissolve what I assumed to be a dose's worth in acetone and soak it into half a bowl of St. John's Wort. I sat in my backyard and took my time smoking the spice admixture. There were no visuals to be noted, but I was overcome with this amazing feeling of blissful happiness and well being. The wind and the sun on the shimmering leaves of the trees looked absolutely beautiful by the way. I was expecting a little more from my first experience with the most powerful psychedelic known to man, but I was pleased nonetheless.
The second time occurred later that day. I assumed the reason I had such a mild experience was because I had smoked such a little amount spread out over such a long time, so I made a makeshift pipe from aluminum foil and a plastic straw to vaporize it out of. I sat on the edge of my bed, the safest setting I could think of, and took my lighter to the underside of the foil. I was surprised at how fast it melted, still more surprised when the plastic began to melt too.
It was coming on stronger than it had the first time, and I interpreted this as poisoning from the plastic fumes. I panicked and jumped to my feet. My first thought was to open the window, and the light coming through was so bright I had to look away. That peculiar scent was still in the air, so I made my way out into the hallway. Figuring the stairs would be too much to tackle at this point, I headed back into my bedroom. There I clung to the back of my chair, listening to my heavy breathing as I watched the clock tick away the last few minutes of this madness.
That was more than a week ago, and it wasn't until now that I worked up the courage to give it another shot. This time I made my pipe entirely out of aluminum foil. Still not ideal, but it beats the hell out of plastic. I then spent the rest of the afternoon cultivating a peaceful state of mind before embarking on my journey later in the evening. I sat down on my bed to meditate, clear my head, and figure out what I wanted to get out of the experience. I've heard that Dmitri* is a healer of the mind, but I would think that he's more of a teacher who helps those that wish to help themselves. I've also been fascinated by the prospect of hallucination since a very young age, psychedelics being the only substances I'm really interested in trying.
At this point I was still psyching myself up to actually go through with it, the shadow of my last experience still looming over me. "You have nothing to fear but fear itself." I thought to myself. I knew these words were true, and they sound great on paper, but I've always had difficulty putting them into practice. "Courage is the judgement that something is more important than fear." my internal dialogue continued. But what was this something that would justify a complete disregard for the terror I felt at the thought of a repeat of my last experience? I thought about this for a long time, and the voice in my head finally got tired of waiting. "Freedom." it said.
Ah freedom, the scarcest of jewels, man's most prized treasure. Enough blood has been spilled in it's name to stain all the waters of the Earth a deep scarlet red. Throughout history, men have died fighting for it's preservation. Surely they must have felt great fear as they stared down the field of battle at their oppressors. But it didn't matter, because they knew that freedom was more important than fear. But freedom from what? Of any number of things in their case. But in this instance, it was freedom from fear itself that I wanted most of all.
With this in mind, I held the makeshift pipe to my lips and sparked the flame beneath it. I inhaled all of it in one go, but I took 2 more hits of diminished volume for good measure. I had the same familiar body feeling as my last two experiences, reminiscent of a nicotine buzz but warmer. I closed my eyes to see nothing but the inside of my eyelids. I could imagine shifting patterns of purple and blue if I really tried, but it was little more than my imagination. I found this disappointing, but also relieving. So I turned off the light and laid down in bed. Then it occurred to me why I hadn't seen anything**, because that wasn't what I was looking for. All I wanted was to overcome my fear, and that's exactly what I did.
I assume he knew that coming on too strong would have just scared me away for good. So instead of severing my ties to reality, he gently took me by the hand and showed me that there was nothing to be afraid of, so long as I showed him the proper respect. I interpret this as an act of kindness in the first degree, and it sets my mind at ease to know that I'm in such good hands. With that in mind, I feel more comfortable pursuing stronger experiences in the future. Perhaps he may choose to guide me further toward my ultimate goal of becoming absolutely free, perhaps not. Nonetheless, I am still very grateful for what he has shown me.
*I've come to call him this when speaking to him or about him. I hope one day that he may speak back and tell me his or her real name.
**Besides the logical explanation that I simply hadn't smoked enough.
The first time I smoked I decided to dissolve what I assumed to be a dose's worth in acetone and soak it into half a bowl of St. John's Wort. I sat in my backyard and took my time smoking the spice admixture. There were no visuals to be noted, but I was overcome with this amazing feeling of blissful happiness and well being. The wind and the sun on the shimmering leaves of the trees looked absolutely beautiful by the way. I was expecting a little more from my first experience with the most powerful psychedelic known to man, but I was pleased nonetheless.
The second time occurred later that day. I assumed the reason I had such a mild experience was because I had smoked such a little amount spread out over such a long time, so I made a makeshift pipe from aluminum foil and a plastic straw to vaporize it out of. I sat on the edge of my bed, the safest setting I could think of, and took my lighter to the underside of the foil. I was surprised at how fast it melted, still more surprised when the plastic began to melt too.
It was coming on stronger than it had the first time, and I interpreted this as poisoning from the plastic fumes. I panicked and jumped to my feet. My first thought was to open the window, and the light coming through was so bright I had to look away. That peculiar scent was still in the air, so I made my way out into the hallway. Figuring the stairs would be too much to tackle at this point, I headed back into my bedroom. There I clung to the back of my chair, listening to my heavy breathing as I watched the clock tick away the last few minutes of this madness.
That was more than a week ago, and it wasn't until now that I worked up the courage to give it another shot. This time I made my pipe entirely out of aluminum foil. Still not ideal, but it beats the hell out of plastic. I then spent the rest of the afternoon cultivating a peaceful state of mind before embarking on my journey later in the evening. I sat down on my bed to meditate, clear my head, and figure out what I wanted to get out of the experience. I've heard that Dmitri* is a healer of the mind, but I would think that he's more of a teacher who helps those that wish to help themselves. I've also been fascinated by the prospect of hallucination since a very young age, psychedelics being the only substances I'm really interested in trying.
At this point I was still psyching myself up to actually go through with it, the shadow of my last experience still looming over me. "You have nothing to fear but fear itself." I thought to myself. I knew these words were true, and they sound great on paper, but I've always had difficulty putting them into practice. "Courage is the judgement that something is more important than fear." my internal dialogue continued. But what was this something that would justify a complete disregard for the terror I felt at the thought of a repeat of my last experience? I thought about this for a long time, and the voice in my head finally got tired of waiting. "Freedom." it said.
Ah freedom, the scarcest of jewels, man's most prized treasure. Enough blood has been spilled in it's name to stain all the waters of the Earth a deep scarlet red. Throughout history, men have died fighting for it's preservation. Surely they must have felt great fear as they stared down the field of battle at their oppressors. But it didn't matter, because they knew that freedom was more important than fear. But freedom from what? Of any number of things in their case. But in this instance, it was freedom from fear itself that I wanted most of all.
With this in mind, I held the makeshift pipe to my lips and sparked the flame beneath it. I inhaled all of it in one go, but I took 2 more hits of diminished volume for good measure. I had the same familiar body feeling as my last two experiences, reminiscent of a nicotine buzz but warmer. I closed my eyes to see nothing but the inside of my eyelids. I could imagine shifting patterns of purple and blue if I really tried, but it was little more than my imagination. I found this disappointing, but also relieving. So I turned off the light and laid down in bed. Then it occurred to me why I hadn't seen anything**, because that wasn't what I was looking for. All I wanted was to overcome my fear, and that's exactly what I did.
I assume he knew that coming on too strong would have just scared me away for good. So instead of severing my ties to reality, he gently took me by the hand and showed me that there was nothing to be afraid of, so long as I showed him the proper respect. I interpret this as an act of kindness in the first degree, and it sets my mind at ease to know that I'm in such good hands. With that in mind, I feel more comfortable pursuing stronger experiences in the future. Perhaps he may choose to guide me further toward my ultimate goal of becoming absolutely free, perhaps not. Nonetheless, I am still very grateful for what he has shown me.
*I've come to call him this when speaking to him or about him. I hope one day that he may speak back and tell me his or her real name.
**Besides the logical explanation that I simply hadn't smoked enough.
