ThePurpleSquirrel
Rising Star
I wish this were better written and that I could take the time to make these trip reports concise; but, I have a migraine coming on. The aura has already started. I don't know for how long it will knock me out. So, I'm getting this down now. I'm so shaken by my most recent trip, I felt like this was something you guys should know about.
[I'm halfway through writing and can see this is getting long, but I'm going to keep going. I'm churning this out stream-of-consciousness, my apologies for the long-winded style.]
_____________________
I did DMT for the first time in the beginning of 2010. I had done no research. One day in early January, I ate lunch with a friend on our college campus. We were talking about philosophy and religion and whether or not we believed in God. (We didn't.) My friend, let's call him Bob, asked if I had ever heard about DMT. He knew I liked cannabis, but that I hadn't used other drugs.
"So," he said, "have you ever heard of 'The Spirit Molecule?" I hadn't. He told me about DMT, that it came from the pineal gland and was released at birth and death. I know, I know, that's conjecture, (at least, I know it NOW) but the (supposed) connection between the pineal and DMT intrigued me at the time. We looked at the book on Amazon and watched the trailer for the documentary for YouTube and that was it. "The Spirit Molecule."
I knew, then, that I would take this drug.
I never planned to take the DMT so quickly. I thought I would take it "one day," after learning everything I could about it first. Trying anything -- much less a mind-altering substance -- before undertaking a near-excessive amount of research is not like me. I read two scholarly (big, thick) works on cannabis before I started smoking it regularly, for migraines.
I've had migraines since I was six years old. They run in my family. It's genetic, supposedly. I also have chronic fatigue and Celiac Disease. A few months before meeting my friend for lunch that day, I had been having a hell of a time with chronic migraines and muscle pain and weakness, and I was in the middle of a battery of time-consuming, expensive tests and make-up exams. I started smoking pot every night for the pain, and I loved it. I had given up alcohol and was eating mostly raw foods, avoiding all common migraine triggers, but the headaches wouldn't stop. They were coming every day, hitting in the late afternoon and lasting through the early morning. I'd used every other migraine abortive therapy (and most preventatives) with ill effects. Finally, one neurologist recommended I use Cannabis, "if I could get it," despite its being illegal. I did, and it helped the pain without slowing me down the next day. By the time I met Bob for lunch, Cannabis was my only medicine.
In March of 2010, I went to see my friend for Cannabis. If you've watched the movie, "Pineapple Express," then you've pretty much met my guy. Not James Franco, of course, but a definite doppleganger. Let's call him, "Ryan." Ryan looked and sounded just like James Franco's character in that movie. He was a sweet, slacker stoner, and he always had good shit. Ryan and I sat around chatting, like normal, before we smoked. I noticed a book on his table: Eckhart Tolle, "The Power of Now." He told me a little about what it was about. Sounded like New Age nonsense to me, but I didn't say so.
I found myself asking, "Have you ever heard of DMT?"
"Oh, yeah!" his face lit up. "It's a beautiful teacher. It heals."
That resonated with me: it heals.
"I'd like to try it," I said.
"Yeah, it's a real spiritual experience."
Ryan's excitement was contagious, and I was infected.
"Yeah," I said, "I really want to do it."
Ryan went quiet... "I have some," he said.
I couldn't believe it. The coincidence was invigorating. I tried to judge his intentions. Ryan is male and heterosexual. I am female. What was he expecting for this DMT? Paranoid thinking? Yes, a little, but I was like that before the weed. Experience is also a powerful teacher.
"If you want to try it, I'll give it to you. There's enough for one bowl."
"Why would you do that?"
"Because you said you'd like to try it."
He was genuine. Equally surprising as him having a supply of DMT.
"Ok." I was nervous, but didn't know when else I might have such an opportunity.
Ryan said he wanted someone to be there with us. "A shahman," he said. "John."
I wondered if John would come in wearing feathers or war paint. He didn't. He was wearing jeans and a hippie-eque camel-colored shirt. Tall and black (at least 6'5"), with waist-long dreads and a deep voice, John put me at ease immediately. He sat down and said, "Ryan says you want to do the spice?" I nodded. "Why?"
My mind went completely blank. I didn't have a good answer for that question. Why DID I want to use DMT? I answered his question though. Almost immediately the words came out: "I want to know." Know what? I don't know and din't then, but John didn't ask. He just nodded.
"Do you have people in your life, darling?" I told him yes. "Any history of mental illness? I told him yes: Depression. It also runs in my family. "Any hallucinations?" No. "Any bipolar or manic episodes?" No. The next question shocked me: "Anybody ever hurt you?"
I laughed a little, "Wouldn't everybody answer yes to that?"
John was serious, "I mean really hurt you. I don't mean stand you up for dinner."
Emotion. Hot tears started welling. I blinked. I nodded, but felt like a silent nod would be weak. "Yeah."
John nodded. Looked at me for a while. "This will help you," he said. "It may scare you at first, but it will help you."
John prepared the bowl: yellow crystals on a bed of MJ in a pipe. Ryan put on some music -- I don't know the artist, but it was soothing and heavy on drums. I meditated while I waited... at least, I tried. I wasn't skilled in meditation by any means, at the time.
John brought me the bowl, helped me hold it, and held the lighter above the crystals. They melted. I inhaled, coughed, felt sick. John brough the pipe to my lips again. "One more," he said. "As deep as you can." I took it, held it. It was my last breath. When I exhaled it, I knew (a deep, absolute certainty) that I had fucked myself over. How can I explain this... I'd never experienced the kind of thought that goes beyond words, but this was what it was. I felt like Indiana Jones after he removes the statue and the rock starts rolling after him. I had invited this experience, and now it was going to kill me.
There was a presence, although I didn't think of it as an "entity." Whatever it was, though, it KNEW me. It knew who I was, and it had been waiting for me all this time. Pain ripped all through my body -- agonizing sensations I had never imagined. I saw colors that were impossible for this earth and tasted flavors I'd never experienced before. The smell of DMT was ovewhelming. Then, the mandala appeared.
This mandala was more intricate and beautiful than anthing I had ever imagined. It was huge and filled my entire field of view. It was made of an infinite number of pieces and was accompanied with two frequencies/ sounds. One was the very high-pitched "carrier signal" others have described. The second was a very low, wide vibration. A music of some kind: WOM-wom-wom-wom-WOM-wom-wom-wom-WOM-wom-wom-wom. As the mandala moved forward, each of the infinite number of pieces grew larger. There were people in the shards -- Aztec-like in appearence -- acting out agricultural scenes: women hoeing and planting, men with beasts of burden. And, as this mandala moved forward, I saw that each of the infinite pieces were filled with even more infinite pieces inside of them, and they grew bigger as it advanced, and the biger pieces contained even smaller pices. This mandala was getting closer.
In the middle of the mandala was a sort of mask-face. I associated it with the presence coming toward me -- the thing that KNEW me. That's what it was saying to me, non-verbally, as best I can translate: I know you. It didn't just know me. It was judging me. I couldn't hide from it. I was so exposed. I didn't resist. I didn't advance. I let it go through me. Then, I left my body.
I don't remember most of hyperspace. I remember being taken to a bright red galaxy, and the DMT-presence then showed me what I thought was its true face. It judged me. Showed me who I was from the perspective of other humans and also from "the cosmos." I learned that everything I had ever done was motivated by fear, and I felt for the first time what it is like to be loved, unconditionally. Then, I left the galaxy and went back to Ryan's apartment. Behind my eyes were beautiful visuals, but even more fantastic were the visuals projected onto the "real world." I could already feel the details of the trip slipping away from me. I remember saying a few things during that time. Ryan wrote them down. I said: "This is all here all the time. We just can't always see it." I also said, "All creativity comes from here."
One vision was so beautiful, a big melting candle of love sitting on top of an empty chair in the room. I asked to please be able to remember that one, and I still can, vaguely. I felt, right up to the end, like the whole trip was being directed by something unleashed by the DMT, that it had shown me all the important stuff I could handle, and that this last part of the trip was just to reward me for my having been brave. It was a gift.
I came out smiling. Hugged John and Ryan and told them what I'd seen, and I went home.
DMT changed my life. I grew up in a severely religious (Christian, protestant, mystic) background and completely rejected that for Hard Science and the "autonamous-mechanistic" view of life Alan Watts talks about. In that area, DMT's revelations were not comforting. Suddenly, a confident atheist was agnostic again. I didn't like that. What I did enjoy were the psychological revelations I "received" in the red galaxy area.
After the experience, I started studying mindfulness meditation, Buddhism (especially Zen), and practicing yoga. My health problems got worse. I was bedridden for a while and then housebound. I meditated and practiced yoga almost every day (for a couple of hours a day) for a couple of years. I'm better now. Only a few migraines a month, less fatigue, less pain.
I am so grateful for my experiences with meditation and yoga -- my practice of both were catazlyzed by that first wonderful experience with the drug; but, all the questions I had before DMT were multiplied by DMT, even with the personal revelations.
I turned to philosophy, to deep meditation, to neuroscience. I felt like I was starting to figure things out -- not cosmically, but for me, in this period of my human life.
A few months ago, I discovered the Nexus and read many, many posts. Honestly, if I had read some of your trip reports before my first experience with the drug, I would never have tried it. Even after reading them, though, I still DID want to try it, again. Reading the posts kept reminding me of my first trip, and I wanted more deep psychological (even human or cosmic) revelations; but, I didn't think these experiences were really "spiritual" in nature. I had come to the conclusion that everything I had seen and experienced during the first trip were products/projections of my own mind and that, if I went back again, I would be able to recognize this and not view the drug as an "entity."
Yeah, wrong.
On Wednesday, I smoked DMT for the second time, but I didn't get far. I started getting anxious (because my sitter was anxious, having no experience with the drug, himself) so I just took one tiny hit of jimjam mixed with MJ. (limonene tek.) I got a few visuals, but wasn't feeling it, so I let it go. The next day, I smoked DMT for the third time, after a couple hours of yoga and meditation. This time, I was alone. I put on a playlist I had prepared for the occasion, sat in a comfortable chair, and took two hits of a bowl of 10 mg Jim Jam mixed with Cannabis.
The trip started out scary. The same carrier wave, but no wom-wom music this time. Also, where I viewed the DMT "entity" as a male before, this one seemed female. I assured myself she was part of my mind. In the wooden panneling of the cabinet, I could see rows and rows of dancers. The patters on the rug below me were intricate and geometric. When I looked at my arms and hands, I could see things inside my body. I didn't know if it was a biological process of mine, or something else. I felt a little anxious and looked towards my front door. It's a glass door with pretty iron bars. I like looking at it sober. I liked looking at it during the trip, too, at first. The light coming through was white and pretty, then it turned red, but just at one end. The knob end, not the hinge end. The red light turned to blood streaming down the side of the door.
I watched it, and my anxiety, let them both be. Then, the trip changed -- similar in feeling to how the first trip changed with the mandala moved through me. I was judged, I passed, and then IT could be friendly. I felt the DMT waves inside my body and got the feeling it was healing me, reinvigorating my wounded intestines. I've had a lot of problems with constipation and one of the realizations during the trip was that my thoughts are also constipated, not just my guts. The trip was very healing, and I enjoyed it so much I reset the playlist and smoked two more bowls.
At the end, I cried happy tears and felt completely refreshed. I couldn't wait to write down everything I had learned.
Then, the migraine started. I had the worst migraine I've ever had that night. So bad, I had to spend the night in a room by myself, which I never do (I live with my BF). I could hear my BF breathing from the other end of the house, with the door closed.
I always have some memory loss after a migraine. Usually, whatever I've done the day before is pretty much erased. I've gotten used to writing down anything important in case it hits. Without the migraines, my memory is really sharp. This one was bad. It wiped pretty much everything out.
I woke up in a bit of a "migraine fog" and a little sad that I had lost my revelations. I still had some spice left in my bowl. I decided to smoke some more. I did yoga and meditation, then sat down with my bowl. I heard the vinegar sizzle and had taken one hit when my doorbell rang. A man's large, black shadow filled the door: my UPS guy dropping off a package. He left it outside and drove away. I was a little rattled, but wasn't expecting any more interruptions. So, I hit the pipe again. As soon as I did it, I knew it was a mistake. I had opened the door. It was the same terror as during my first trip, but so much worse. I thought taking one more hit would be a good idea, because it would make it easier to give in and let go. I put the lighter back to the spice and heard a voice say, "We've got her now."
I've never heard a voice on DMT, before this. The communication was always non-verbal. On this last trip, though, there were many voices, all talking to me, and I didn't buy they were actually coming from my psyche. Worse, the visuals were getting scary. Colors had taken on an ominous tone. Worst of all, I knew -- KNEW -- that this IT was different than the IT that greeted me during the first trip. The IT in the second trip was mildly female. This IT was definitely female and she was thrilled that I was there. See, I KNEW that she had been watching me, that my smoking for three days in a row had let her find me, that my smoking that morning was EXACTLY what she wanted, and that, now, she was trying to hack into my brain. I focused on my breath, tried to notice all the sensations and not fight any of them: "You are me. You are me. This is all me."
The voices said:
"She's good."
"Keep her at it."
"Almost there."
"You are all me. You are all me." But it wasn't. I couldn't believe it, not at all. This wasn't some thought in the back of my mind -- I was certain: she wanted my body. She wanted my brain. I stopped letting it all in. I focused on the room in front of me and felt the carrier signal decrease. The progress she was making on my brain stopped... or slowed. Now, my focus was on distracting me/her/it/whatever. I didn't want to interact with IT. I wanted to make it as difficult as possible for her to get in.
The voices kept going.
"Ooooooeww.... She's very good."
"Distract her."
I concentrated on the wooden panels in the room. The dancers which were so mesmerizing the day before were no menacing, AND they were trying to climb out of the wood.
"Even if they do climb out," I told myself, "They are part of your brain."
Laughter. Evil laughter. And then a voice coming from inside of my head, "WE are in your brain."
They weren't in my brain like ideas or beliefs or concepts. They were in my brain like hackers, like aliens, like bugs.
"So am I," I said to the dancers/the voices/the thing. "So am I."
The door started making a noise. It was pouring blood again and the blood was getting closer. The blood was running slowly across the swimming floor towards me. The floor is usually white, but was now an evil green. I refused to show fear to the blood. Then, the door started moving towards me, shortening the distance by shrinking the floor. I started chanting: Om Mani Padme Hum.
The trip started to recede. The carrier signal dropped away and, though there were a few visuals left, the voices were gone and I felt like myself again. I looked at my watch: 20 minutes, give or take. I could stand by then, and I jumped up and ran to my keyboard. I started playing music and singing Elton John songs really loud.
I was still afraid. I am still afraid. At first, I was just afraid I would be traumatized and become schizophrenic. I'm rational. I'm rational. I'm rational. I do not belive in these things... except it scared the fuck out of me. I'm still a little freaked out at the possibility that they finished part though not all of the job. I've had a few weird auras today. No headache has arrived yet. I worry they are visual hallucinations. I've also felt a few weird twinges and itches. I've been so paranoid, I've even laid off the cannabis. It so felt like I had fallen right in to some other being's plan. That the first two good trips were just bait to get me to come back unsuspecting, so they could trap me.
I make my living from working with probabilities. I know that, rationally speaking, the possibility that I've just had a bad trip, or that this bad trip triggered a latent schizophrenia that may or may not continue or escalate -- these things are much more likely than a malicious alien force using DMT as a way to snatch mybodies; but, dudes, I'm telling you all, that possibility feels like way more than a "hintergedanken."
I'm never going back to hyperspace, if I have any free will about it at all. I'm not sure I'll come back to the Nexus regularly and lurk as I used to, because I don't want to be tempted to go back and try it again once the memories fade. I threw my materials away and took the trash out today because I didn't want it in the house. I went to work this afternoon and functioned normally. I'm no longer hearing voices, just seeing squiggles and feeling weird things under my skin. But I'm scared.
I'm still really scared.
[I'm halfway through writing and can see this is getting long, but I'm going to keep going. I'm churning this out stream-of-consciousness, my apologies for the long-winded style.]
_____________________
I did DMT for the first time in the beginning of 2010. I had done no research. One day in early January, I ate lunch with a friend on our college campus. We were talking about philosophy and religion and whether or not we believed in God. (We didn't.) My friend, let's call him Bob, asked if I had ever heard about DMT. He knew I liked cannabis, but that I hadn't used other drugs.
"So," he said, "have you ever heard of 'The Spirit Molecule?" I hadn't. He told me about DMT, that it came from the pineal gland and was released at birth and death. I know, I know, that's conjecture, (at least, I know it NOW) but the (supposed) connection between the pineal and DMT intrigued me at the time. We looked at the book on Amazon and watched the trailer for the documentary for YouTube and that was it. "The Spirit Molecule."
I knew, then, that I would take this drug.
I never planned to take the DMT so quickly. I thought I would take it "one day," after learning everything I could about it first. Trying anything -- much less a mind-altering substance -- before undertaking a near-excessive amount of research is not like me. I read two scholarly (big, thick) works on cannabis before I started smoking it regularly, for migraines.
I've had migraines since I was six years old. They run in my family. It's genetic, supposedly. I also have chronic fatigue and Celiac Disease. A few months before meeting my friend for lunch that day, I had been having a hell of a time with chronic migraines and muscle pain and weakness, and I was in the middle of a battery of time-consuming, expensive tests and make-up exams. I started smoking pot every night for the pain, and I loved it. I had given up alcohol and was eating mostly raw foods, avoiding all common migraine triggers, but the headaches wouldn't stop. They were coming every day, hitting in the late afternoon and lasting through the early morning. I'd used every other migraine abortive therapy (and most preventatives) with ill effects. Finally, one neurologist recommended I use Cannabis, "if I could get it," despite its being illegal. I did, and it helped the pain without slowing me down the next day. By the time I met Bob for lunch, Cannabis was my only medicine.
In March of 2010, I went to see my friend for Cannabis. If you've watched the movie, "Pineapple Express," then you've pretty much met my guy. Not James Franco, of course, but a definite doppleganger. Let's call him, "Ryan." Ryan looked and sounded just like James Franco's character in that movie. He was a sweet, slacker stoner, and he always had good shit. Ryan and I sat around chatting, like normal, before we smoked. I noticed a book on his table: Eckhart Tolle, "The Power of Now." He told me a little about what it was about. Sounded like New Age nonsense to me, but I didn't say so.
I found myself asking, "Have you ever heard of DMT?"
"Oh, yeah!" his face lit up. "It's a beautiful teacher. It heals."
That resonated with me: it heals.
"I'd like to try it," I said.
"Yeah, it's a real spiritual experience."
Ryan's excitement was contagious, and I was infected.
"Yeah," I said, "I really want to do it."
Ryan went quiet... "I have some," he said.
I couldn't believe it. The coincidence was invigorating. I tried to judge his intentions. Ryan is male and heterosexual. I am female. What was he expecting for this DMT? Paranoid thinking? Yes, a little, but I was like that before the weed. Experience is also a powerful teacher.
"If you want to try it, I'll give it to you. There's enough for one bowl."
"Why would you do that?"
"Because you said you'd like to try it."
He was genuine. Equally surprising as him having a supply of DMT.
"Ok." I was nervous, but didn't know when else I might have such an opportunity.
Ryan said he wanted someone to be there with us. "A shahman," he said. "John."
I wondered if John would come in wearing feathers or war paint. He didn't. He was wearing jeans and a hippie-eque camel-colored shirt. Tall and black (at least 6'5"), with waist-long dreads and a deep voice, John put me at ease immediately. He sat down and said, "Ryan says you want to do the spice?" I nodded. "Why?"
My mind went completely blank. I didn't have a good answer for that question. Why DID I want to use DMT? I answered his question though. Almost immediately the words came out: "I want to know." Know what? I don't know and din't then, but John didn't ask. He just nodded.
"Do you have people in your life, darling?" I told him yes. "Any history of mental illness? I told him yes: Depression. It also runs in my family. "Any hallucinations?" No. "Any bipolar or manic episodes?" No. The next question shocked me: "Anybody ever hurt you?"
I laughed a little, "Wouldn't everybody answer yes to that?"
John was serious, "I mean really hurt you. I don't mean stand you up for dinner."
Emotion. Hot tears started welling. I blinked. I nodded, but felt like a silent nod would be weak. "Yeah."
John nodded. Looked at me for a while. "This will help you," he said. "It may scare you at first, but it will help you."
John prepared the bowl: yellow crystals on a bed of MJ in a pipe. Ryan put on some music -- I don't know the artist, but it was soothing and heavy on drums. I meditated while I waited... at least, I tried. I wasn't skilled in meditation by any means, at the time.
John brought me the bowl, helped me hold it, and held the lighter above the crystals. They melted. I inhaled, coughed, felt sick. John brough the pipe to my lips again. "One more," he said. "As deep as you can." I took it, held it. It was my last breath. When I exhaled it, I knew (a deep, absolute certainty) that I had fucked myself over. How can I explain this... I'd never experienced the kind of thought that goes beyond words, but this was what it was. I felt like Indiana Jones after he removes the statue and the rock starts rolling after him. I had invited this experience, and now it was going to kill me.
There was a presence, although I didn't think of it as an "entity." Whatever it was, though, it KNEW me. It knew who I was, and it had been waiting for me all this time. Pain ripped all through my body -- agonizing sensations I had never imagined. I saw colors that were impossible for this earth and tasted flavors I'd never experienced before. The smell of DMT was ovewhelming. Then, the mandala appeared.
This mandala was more intricate and beautiful than anthing I had ever imagined. It was huge and filled my entire field of view. It was made of an infinite number of pieces and was accompanied with two frequencies/ sounds. One was the very high-pitched "carrier signal" others have described. The second was a very low, wide vibration. A music of some kind: WOM-wom-wom-wom-WOM-wom-wom-wom-WOM-wom-wom-wom. As the mandala moved forward, each of the infinite number of pieces grew larger. There were people in the shards -- Aztec-like in appearence -- acting out agricultural scenes: women hoeing and planting, men with beasts of burden. And, as this mandala moved forward, I saw that each of the infinite pieces were filled with even more infinite pieces inside of them, and they grew bigger as it advanced, and the biger pieces contained even smaller pices. This mandala was getting closer.
In the middle of the mandala was a sort of mask-face. I associated it with the presence coming toward me -- the thing that KNEW me. That's what it was saying to me, non-verbally, as best I can translate: I know you. It didn't just know me. It was judging me. I couldn't hide from it. I was so exposed. I didn't resist. I didn't advance. I let it go through me. Then, I left my body.
I don't remember most of hyperspace. I remember being taken to a bright red galaxy, and the DMT-presence then showed me what I thought was its true face. It judged me. Showed me who I was from the perspective of other humans and also from "the cosmos." I learned that everything I had ever done was motivated by fear, and I felt for the first time what it is like to be loved, unconditionally. Then, I left the galaxy and went back to Ryan's apartment. Behind my eyes were beautiful visuals, but even more fantastic were the visuals projected onto the "real world." I could already feel the details of the trip slipping away from me. I remember saying a few things during that time. Ryan wrote them down. I said: "This is all here all the time. We just can't always see it." I also said, "All creativity comes from here."
One vision was so beautiful, a big melting candle of love sitting on top of an empty chair in the room. I asked to please be able to remember that one, and I still can, vaguely. I felt, right up to the end, like the whole trip was being directed by something unleashed by the DMT, that it had shown me all the important stuff I could handle, and that this last part of the trip was just to reward me for my having been brave. It was a gift.
I came out smiling. Hugged John and Ryan and told them what I'd seen, and I went home.
DMT changed my life. I grew up in a severely religious (Christian, protestant, mystic) background and completely rejected that for Hard Science and the "autonamous-mechanistic" view of life Alan Watts talks about. In that area, DMT's revelations were not comforting. Suddenly, a confident atheist was agnostic again. I didn't like that. What I did enjoy were the psychological revelations I "received" in the red galaxy area.
After the experience, I started studying mindfulness meditation, Buddhism (especially Zen), and practicing yoga. My health problems got worse. I was bedridden for a while and then housebound. I meditated and practiced yoga almost every day (for a couple of hours a day) for a couple of years. I'm better now. Only a few migraines a month, less fatigue, less pain.
I am so grateful for my experiences with meditation and yoga -- my practice of both were catazlyzed by that first wonderful experience with the drug; but, all the questions I had before DMT were multiplied by DMT, even with the personal revelations.
I turned to philosophy, to deep meditation, to neuroscience. I felt like I was starting to figure things out -- not cosmically, but for me, in this period of my human life.
A few months ago, I discovered the Nexus and read many, many posts. Honestly, if I had read some of your trip reports before my first experience with the drug, I would never have tried it. Even after reading them, though, I still DID want to try it, again. Reading the posts kept reminding me of my first trip, and I wanted more deep psychological (even human or cosmic) revelations; but, I didn't think these experiences were really "spiritual" in nature. I had come to the conclusion that everything I had seen and experienced during the first trip were products/projections of my own mind and that, if I went back again, I would be able to recognize this and not view the drug as an "entity."
Yeah, wrong.
On Wednesday, I smoked DMT for the second time, but I didn't get far. I started getting anxious (because my sitter was anxious, having no experience with the drug, himself) so I just took one tiny hit of jimjam mixed with MJ. (limonene tek.) I got a few visuals, but wasn't feeling it, so I let it go. The next day, I smoked DMT for the third time, after a couple hours of yoga and meditation. This time, I was alone. I put on a playlist I had prepared for the occasion, sat in a comfortable chair, and took two hits of a bowl of 10 mg Jim Jam mixed with Cannabis.
The trip started out scary. The same carrier wave, but no wom-wom music this time. Also, where I viewed the DMT "entity" as a male before, this one seemed female. I assured myself she was part of my mind. In the wooden panneling of the cabinet, I could see rows and rows of dancers. The patters on the rug below me were intricate and geometric. When I looked at my arms and hands, I could see things inside my body. I didn't know if it was a biological process of mine, or something else. I felt a little anxious and looked towards my front door. It's a glass door with pretty iron bars. I like looking at it sober. I liked looking at it during the trip, too, at first. The light coming through was white and pretty, then it turned red, but just at one end. The knob end, not the hinge end. The red light turned to blood streaming down the side of the door.
I watched it, and my anxiety, let them both be. Then, the trip changed -- similar in feeling to how the first trip changed with the mandala moved through me. I was judged, I passed, and then IT could be friendly. I felt the DMT waves inside my body and got the feeling it was healing me, reinvigorating my wounded intestines. I've had a lot of problems with constipation and one of the realizations during the trip was that my thoughts are also constipated, not just my guts. The trip was very healing, and I enjoyed it so much I reset the playlist and smoked two more bowls.
At the end, I cried happy tears and felt completely refreshed. I couldn't wait to write down everything I had learned.
Then, the migraine started. I had the worst migraine I've ever had that night. So bad, I had to spend the night in a room by myself, which I never do (I live with my BF). I could hear my BF breathing from the other end of the house, with the door closed.
I always have some memory loss after a migraine. Usually, whatever I've done the day before is pretty much erased. I've gotten used to writing down anything important in case it hits. Without the migraines, my memory is really sharp. This one was bad. It wiped pretty much everything out.
I woke up in a bit of a "migraine fog" and a little sad that I had lost my revelations. I still had some spice left in my bowl. I decided to smoke some more. I did yoga and meditation, then sat down with my bowl. I heard the vinegar sizzle and had taken one hit when my doorbell rang. A man's large, black shadow filled the door: my UPS guy dropping off a package. He left it outside and drove away. I was a little rattled, but wasn't expecting any more interruptions. So, I hit the pipe again. As soon as I did it, I knew it was a mistake. I had opened the door. It was the same terror as during my first trip, but so much worse. I thought taking one more hit would be a good idea, because it would make it easier to give in and let go. I put the lighter back to the spice and heard a voice say, "We've got her now."
I've never heard a voice on DMT, before this. The communication was always non-verbal. On this last trip, though, there were many voices, all talking to me, and I didn't buy they were actually coming from my psyche. Worse, the visuals were getting scary. Colors had taken on an ominous tone. Worst of all, I knew -- KNEW -- that this IT was different than the IT that greeted me during the first trip. The IT in the second trip was mildly female. This IT was definitely female and she was thrilled that I was there. See, I KNEW that she had been watching me, that my smoking for three days in a row had let her find me, that my smoking that morning was EXACTLY what she wanted, and that, now, she was trying to hack into my brain. I focused on my breath, tried to notice all the sensations and not fight any of them: "You are me. You are me. This is all me."
The voices said:
"She's good."
"Keep her at it."
"Almost there."
"You are all me. You are all me." But it wasn't. I couldn't believe it, not at all. This wasn't some thought in the back of my mind -- I was certain: she wanted my body. She wanted my brain. I stopped letting it all in. I focused on the room in front of me and felt the carrier signal decrease. The progress she was making on my brain stopped... or slowed. Now, my focus was on distracting me/her/it/whatever. I didn't want to interact with IT. I wanted to make it as difficult as possible for her to get in.
The voices kept going.
"Ooooooeww.... She's very good."
"Distract her."
I concentrated on the wooden panels in the room. The dancers which were so mesmerizing the day before were no menacing, AND they were trying to climb out of the wood.
"Even if they do climb out," I told myself, "They are part of your brain."
Laughter. Evil laughter. And then a voice coming from inside of my head, "WE are in your brain."
They weren't in my brain like ideas or beliefs or concepts. They were in my brain like hackers, like aliens, like bugs.
"So am I," I said to the dancers/the voices/the thing. "So am I."
The door started making a noise. It was pouring blood again and the blood was getting closer. The blood was running slowly across the swimming floor towards me. The floor is usually white, but was now an evil green. I refused to show fear to the blood. Then, the door started moving towards me, shortening the distance by shrinking the floor. I started chanting: Om Mani Padme Hum.
The trip started to recede. The carrier signal dropped away and, though there were a few visuals left, the voices were gone and I felt like myself again. I looked at my watch: 20 minutes, give or take. I could stand by then, and I jumped up and ran to my keyboard. I started playing music and singing Elton John songs really loud.
I was still afraid. I am still afraid. At first, I was just afraid I would be traumatized and become schizophrenic. I'm rational. I'm rational. I'm rational. I do not belive in these things... except it scared the fuck out of me. I'm still a little freaked out at the possibility that they finished part though not all of the job. I've had a few weird auras today. No headache has arrived yet. I worry they are visual hallucinations. I've also felt a few weird twinges and itches. I've been so paranoid, I've even laid off the cannabis. It so felt like I had fallen right in to some other being's plan. That the first two good trips were just bait to get me to come back unsuspecting, so they could trap me.
I make my living from working with probabilities. I know that, rationally speaking, the possibility that I've just had a bad trip, or that this bad trip triggered a latent schizophrenia that may or may not continue or escalate -- these things are much more likely than a malicious alien force using DMT as a way to snatch mybodies; but, dudes, I'm telling you all, that possibility feels like way more than a "hintergedanken."
I'm never going back to hyperspace, if I have any free will about it at all. I'm not sure I'll come back to the Nexus regularly and lurk as I used to, because I don't want to be tempted to go back and try it again once the memories fade. I threw my materials away and took the trash out today because I didn't want it in the house. I went to work this afternoon and functioned normally. I'm no longer hearing voices, just seeing squiggles and feeling weird things under my skin. But I'm scared.
I'm still really scared.
