Psychelectric
Curiouser and curiouser
In order to smoke DMT, you need a pipe, so I went off to buy one. A base pipe. All glass, just bulb and stem. My plan was to vaporize the DMT and inhale it as it rested in the bulb, trying my best to not look like a crack addict in the process.
My first attempt. My setting was an adjoining bathroom with comforters and pillows layed out on the floor to give me a spot to lay back should I be overtaken by the sheer awesomeness of the drug. While sitting Indian style (or Lotus for those New Age bastards), I placed a generous sprinkling of leaves in the bottom of the bulb. I stuck a lighter underneath and began rocking back and forth to make sure that it didn't get too hot. The bulb quickly began to fill with whispy white vapor. As soon as the bulb filled I put my mouth to the stem and sucked in. This stuff tastes like shit. The smoke was harsh but I tried my damndest to hold on. COUGH COUGH COUGH. Nothing. Save for the usual headrush one gets from smoking anything, I didn't get any hint that there was something remotely psychedelic going on. :thumb_dow
My second attempt. I place even more of the tainted tea leaves in the pipe and hold longer trying to get the maximum vapor possible. Again I suck. Nothing. :thumb_dow
My third attempt. Nothing.:thumb_dow
My fourth attempt. Nothing. :x
My fifth attempt. After having four tries to perfect my inhalation technique I give it another go, expecting to get nothing out of it. I'm considering the possibility that I'm smoking Earl Grey covered in glass, though I'm determined to continue. With more smoke than I've had before in the pipe, I suck in and hold on 30-29-28-27-26 . . . 3-2-1. I exhale and close my eyes. Bright red fills my vision, much like it does whenever I close my eyes with the lights on, but something's different. Patterns begin to emerge. They swirl together and weave in and out with trails of gold that create a pattern somewhere between a double helix and a Persian tapestry. This sensation lasts about three minutes. My thought is, that was pretty cool, but there has to be something more. :thumb_up:
My sixth attempt. Nothing. :x
Fuck this. I'm off to buy another pipe. I go to my local head shop and purchase a yellow spoon pipe with blue swirling about it. I also make sure to get a glass screen for the pipe.
My seventh attempt. I load the new pipe up and spark it like weed trying to take in as deep a hit as possible. Holy fucking shit! The walls of the bathroom explode in fractals almost before I can exhale. Now I've seen patterns in normal objects on other psycheledics, but this is different, a thousand times more vivid and intense. Everything is twisting and gyrating like a kaliedoscope with colors and patterns that seem almost impossible to exist. Bright purples and greens and oranges spread about the room (BTW this bathroom is normally a pale eggshell). The walls. The door. They're all moving. In the fractals, faces appear, and they seem to be conscious. They're laughing. It's like they're toying with me. The playful little sprites are in the walls. They shift in and out popping up at times to continue their little games. The whole place is bright. I look down at my hand and see that it's an impossible version of orange, too bright to comprehend. My fingers are mulitplying. It seems as if I have 10 or more fingers for each hand. As I move my arms I am struck by the notion that I have more than two. This is not like on acid when you see trails and it looks like you have multiple arms for a split second. I literally could tell that I had at least eight arms each indistinguishable from the next. Each one of them was a bright orange color with purple lights shooting out. I stood up and looked at myself in the mirror. I was like one of those dieties from some mythology too obscure to be named. I had eight eyes going down my face, a grin that was almost Cheshire cat in nature, and more arms than any incarnation of Shiva I have ever seen. Then I come down. :shock:
So that's DMT.
I've burned through most of my stash to get there, but it was worth it. The trip itself lasted about seven minutes, but it was seven minutes of transcendental awe so profound that I knew I had to go again, and go harder.
For my eighth attempt I decide to lay back in my bathtub (no water), and take a hit at about 2 in the morning. I spark it and begin my inhale. The plastic taste begins to scar my lungs. I'm not detered, I keep sucking. I slowly exhale just enough so I can pull hit two. The world around me starts buzzing. My headspace goes alien with an almost musical and primal drumming and humming. I keep going. Fractals explode around me. I'm not even sure I'm human any more. Then I go for hit three and lay back. I cough all over the place. I am in a landscape so bizzare, yet so familiar. There's such an overwhelming sense of deja vu that it can't be denied. That I've been there before. And it didn't come from me trying DMT the day before. The sensation comes from somewhere more primal. More ancient. I'm struck by the notion that DMT is a doorway into the perception of heaven or Enlightenment or Shangrala or whatever all religions can't quite put into words. I can still tell I'm in my bathroom, sort of, but it's not like any bathroom that can exist in my regular reality. The place is a bright turqouise and purple, almost like it's made of stained glass. A kind of glass that is always shifting and changing with fractals. There are symbols and patterns etched in that seem like a combination of runes and heiroglyphs. I can't read them, but somehow I know that they're the written form of the divine language. In fact it seems like it's a combination of the best parts of every language, from human to animal to math to science to binary. It seems like this is what the perfect universe looks like. I look around and I'm sure that I'm in a palace. Is this what my bathroom has looked like the whole time?, I think. Underneath my primitive perception paradise has existed. Heaven and hell aren't places to go to, they're merely different planes of perception. What I realize at that point is that I'm not in heaven. I'm looking at its door, and what a beautiful door it is. I could be a bum on the outside of the pearly gates and be quite content. I know this experience is not a "breakthrough", but nonetheless it's breathtaking. During my awe. I look down at my pipe and with a bit of Freudian logic I conclude that it's the nipple of God. Then I come down.
I tried the rest of my DMT and get a few more trips, but they were quite similar to the first experiences and none of them where the famed "breakthrough".
It has been two years since those experiences and now I have obtained the equipment to make a batch myself. My first batch seemed tainted so I threw it away. My second batch did however produce crystals, but the yeild was quite small. Though I did smoke them and verified that I had DMT. Not enough for an experience, just a threshold buzz, but it was enough to keep me going. I will hopefully start batch three in a few weeks and with a little more study and a little luck, I'll be able to produce some fine crystals.
That's about the best thing I can do for an introduction. My name for the sake of this forum is Psychelectric, I am a 26 year old male, and that's about all you need to know.
(I wanted to get more vivid in my description but I didn't want to give you a novel, just in a nutshell what my DMT experience has been).
My first attempt. My setting was an adjoining bathroom with comforters and pillows layed out on the floor to give me a spot to lay back should I be overtaken by the sheer awesomeness of the drug. While sitting Indian style (or Lotus for those New Age bastards), I placed a generous sprinkling of leaves in the bottom of the bulb. I stuck a lighter underneath and began rocking back and forth to make sure that it didn't get too hot. The bulb quickly began to fill with whispy white vapor. As soon as the bulb filled I put my mouth to the stem and sucked in. This stuff tastes like shit. The smoke was harsh but I tried my damndest to hold on. COUGH COUGH COUGH. Nothing. Save for the usual headrush one gets from smoking anything, I didn't get any hint that there was something remotely psychedelic going on. :thumb_dow
My second attempt. I place even more of the tainted tea leaves in the pipe and hold longer trying to get the maximum vapor possible. Again I suck. Nothing. :thumb_dow
My third attempt. Nothing.:thumb_dow
My fourth attempt. Nothing. :x
My fifth attempt. After having four tries to perfect my inhalation technique I give it another go, expecting to get nothing out of it. I'm considering the possibility that I'm smoking Earl Grey covered in glass, though I'm determined to continue. With more smoke than I've had before in the pipe, I suck in and hold on 30-29-28-27-26 . . . 3-2-1. I exhale and close my eyes. Bright red fills my vision, much like it does whenever I close my eyes with the lights on, but something's different. Patterns begin to emerge. They swirl together and weave in and out with trails of gold that create a pattern somewhere between a double helix and a Persian tapestry. This sensation lasts about three minutes. My thought is, that was pretty cool, but there has to be something more. :thumb_up:
My sixth attempt. Nothing. :x
Fuck this. I'm off to buy another pipe. I go to my local head shop and purchase a yellow spoon pipe with blue swirling about it. I also make sure to get a glass screen for the pipe.
My seventh attempt. I load the new pipe up and spark it like weed trying to take in as deep a hit as possible. Holy fucking shit! The walls of the bathroom explode in fractals almost before I can exhale. Now I've seen patterns in normal objects on other psycheledics, but this is different, a thousand times more vivid and intense. Everything is twisting and gyrating like a kaliedoscope with colors and patterns that seem almost impossible to exist. Bright purples and greens and oranges spread about the room (BTW this bathroom is normally a pale eggshell). The walls. The door. They're all moving. In the fractals, faces appear, and they seem to be conscious. They're laughing. It's like they're toying with me. The playful little sprites are in the walls. They shift in and out popping up at times to continue their little games. The whole place is bright. I look down at my hand and see that it's an impossible version of orange, too bright to comprehend. My fingers are mulitplying. It seems as if I have 10 or more fingers for each hand. As I move my arms I am struck by the notion that I have more than two. This is not like on acid when you see trails and it looks like you have multiple arms for a split second. I literally could tell that I had at least eight arms each indistinguishable from the next. Each one of them was a bright orange color with purple lights shooting out. I stood up and looked at myself in the mirror. I was like one of those dieties from some mythology too obscure to be named. I had eight eyes going down my face, a grin that was almost Cheshire cat in nature, and more arms than any incarnation of Shiva I have ever seen. Then I come down. :shock:
So that's DMT.
I've burned through most of my stash to get there, but it was worth it. The trip itself lasted about seven minutes, but it was seven minutes of transcendental awe so profound that I knew I had to go again, and go harder.
For my eighth attempt I decide to lay back in my bathtub (no water), and take a hit at about 2 in the morning. I spark it and begin my inhale. The plastic taste begins to scar my lungs. I'm not detered, I keep sucking. I slowly exhale just enough so I can pull hit two. The world around me starts buzzing. My headspace goes alien with an almost musical and primal drumming and humming. I keep going. Fractals explode around me. I'm not even sure I'm human any more. Then I go for hit three and lay back. I cough all over the place. I am in a landscape so bizzare, yet so familiar. There's such an overwhelming sense of deja vu that it can't be denied. That I've been there before. And it didn't come from me trying DMT the day before. The sensation comes from somewhere more primal. More ancient. I'm struck by the notion that DMT is a doorway into the perception of heaven or Enlightenment or Shangrala or whatever all religions can't quite put into words. I can still tell I'm in my bathroom, sort of, but it's not like any bathroom that can exist in my regular reality. The place is a bright turqouise and purple, almost like it's made of stained glass. A kind of glass that is always shifting and changing with fractals. There are symbols and patterns etched in that seem like a combination of runes and heiroglyphs. I can't read them, but somehow I know that they're the written form of the divine language. In fact it seems like it's a combination of the best parts of every language, from human to animal to math to science to binary. It seems like this is what the perfect universe looks like. I look around and I'm sure that I'm in a palace. Is this what my bathroom has looked like the whole time?, I think. Underneath my primitive perception paradise has existed. Heaven and hell aren't places to go to, they're merely different planes of perception. What I realize at that point is that I'm not in heaven. I'm looking at its door, and what a beautiful door it is. I could be a bum on the outside of the pearly gates and be quite content. I know this experience is not a "breakthrough", but nonetheless it's breathtaking. During my awe. I look down at my pipe and with a bit of Freudian logic I conclude that it's the nipple of God. Then I come down.
I tried the rest of my DMT and get a few more trips, but they were quite similar to the first experiences and none of them where the famed "breakthrough".
It has been two years since those experiences and now I have obtained the equipment to make a batch myself. My first batch seemed tainted so I threw it away. My second batch did however produce crystals, but the yeild was quite small. Though I did smoke them and verified that I had DMT. Not enough for an experience, just a threshold buzz, but it was enough to keep me going. I will hopefully start batch three in a few weeks and with a little more study and a little luck, I'll be able to produce some fine crystals.
That's about the best thing I can do for an introduction. My name for the sake of this forum is Psychelectric, I am a 26 year old male, and that's about all you need to know.
(I wanted to get more vivid in my description but I didn't want to give you a novel, just in a nutshell what my DMT experience has been).
