Hi. I have recently become enthralled with DMT and it's effects. I have read a great deal of The Spirit Molecule and find it to be quite the page-turner. Just to give some background (as this is my introduction) I am no stranger to consciousness alteration.
In high school, back in the early 90's, I became aware of LSD and very interested in experiencing other fantastical worlds of fantasy I thought it would bring me to. I sought this on my own accord and read a few choice titles from the public library such as "The Storming Mind".High school cross-faded into a new full-time occupation: the rave scene.
I really just loved the music and by the time I became entrenched in the local modest scene here I had forgotten about my earlier fascination with the desire to have an LSD experience. Well my first time trying it was really not at all what I expected. I thought I would be placed into another world of fantasy and science fiction, like being in a movie or a real-life session of Dungeons & Dragons. Instead it was an incredible integration of something earlier in my life, a feeling of connectedness with the universe, all together inside and out of me. The music, the people, the vibe as it is now known, pulled me into a state of bliss I had never experienced before. I repeated the experience many times after that first, and now at this point it has all become a blur. So many weekends were spent in a neo-tribal connectedness with incredible music and incredible people! Let's say 1993 through 1996. There were raves and there were hanging-outs on non-rave nights spent imbibed in joyous bonding reverie with my friends on LSD.
So one night like many others, a very good, close, and trusted friend of mine decided to have an intimate night of fun including LSD and cannabis in his apartment. There were some people over there in the evening and they had vacated early. So we both dropped our single blotter hits and kind of made our own ways around his apartment. He was in his room and I was out in the living room channel surfing. Well the familiar feeling started coming to the both of us and we came to a space of togetherness in his living room. There was music (darker music than I wanted to hear) and Super Nintendo going on. Mostly, like any other night spent hanging out and having fun. Happy Gilmore came on the TV after a while. I think it was just in the VCR and I hit play. By this time we were both into goofy psychedelic reverie, laughing and cracking jokes about any such thing that crossed our minds. Then the bong came out. Packed with "dirt weed", we began to smoke and pass it back and forth. It came on to me, I noticed internally. The pot was skewing things very differently. I was looking at the TV screen right at the moment when Adam Sandler was making a swing with a golf club and his arms and shoulders and club created such tracers that started to come out of the TV and spread into a circular motion that began to encompass the right side of the room. I didn't think "whoa, WTF!?", I immediately had the thought of "did I take too much?" The bong was still being passed and when it came to me again, I refused. The air became thick and taking slow deep breaths did nothing to help. I got up from my position on the floor and began to pace. From that point on I became so internally agonized with the thought of being mixed into this soup of an atmosphere from which I could find no escape. Every breath was integrating me deeper and deeper into it. I told my friend I was really afraid that I was being mixed into some some hellish place. Of course he played it off at first, innocently. We had always, 100%, had the times of our lives tripping together before. I let him know the gravity of the situation, literally begging for his help. He sat me down on the couch. I told him of my deep unshakable fear of being lost forever in this infinite hell-soup that had become my reality. He councelled me the best he could, telling me I would come out of this terrible time once the drug had worn off, that I would be the same old guy I had always been. I really liked the thought of that. But inside I didn't believe him. I thought "how can he know? He has no idea what this is like." I tried to pull him into the space I was in with me. I thought that if he could just be here and experience this too he would know just how fucking bad it was. I was pacing more and he could barely keep me contained in his apartment. I didn't leave, but I did go in and wake up his roommate who was also a friend of mine. The poor guy asleep being awakened to me babbling about being sucked into hell. Bleary-eyed, he told me I'd be ok and to please just let him sleep. For some reason I very much respected his request and did not disturb him further. The rest of the night was spent in waves of me thinking "ok, it's wearing off" then "shit! it's coming back around!". Waves! It took ages for exhaustion to take ahold of me, but it finally did after the sun was well up shining into the living room. I went to sleep on the couch. Waking up in hell, and telling myself it would go away, and falling back asleep.
Well let me tell you dear reader, those waves kept coming and going for 8 to 10 years after that experience. I am now at this point 12 years from the last time I took a psychedelic substance. I have smoked cannabis a few times on social occasions and every time it brought me into that old space, but more of a physically shakey/pacing state. A flavor, but not as intense. But even without anything in my system I felt those heat waves from hell coming back to wash over me. I am all out of it now, and the tides of hellishness have waned completely, but still I hold a deep shock when I see strong artwork or linguistic description of a psychedelic nature.
To be continued........
In high school, back in the early 90's, I became aware of LSD and very interested in experiencing other fantastical worlds of fantasy I thought it would bring me to. I sought this on my own accord and read a few choice titles from the public library such as "The Storming Mind".High school cross-faded into a new full-time occupation: the rave scene.
I really just loved the music and by the time I became entrenched in the local modest scene here I had forgotten about my earlier fascination with the desire to have an LSD experience. Well my first time trying it was really not at all what I expected. I thought I would be placed into another world of fantasy and science fiction, like being in a movie or a real-life session of Dungeons & Dragons. Instead it was an incredible integration of something earlier in my life, a feeling of connectedness with the universe, all together inside and out of me. The music, the people, the vibe as it is now known, pulled me into a state of bliss I had never experienced before. I repeated the experience many times after that first, and now at this point it has all become a blur. So many weekends were spent in a neo-tribal connectedness with incredible music and incredible people! Let's say 1993 through 1996. There were raves and there were hanging-outs on non-rave nights spent imbibed in joyous bonding reverie with my friends on LSD.
So one night like many others, a very good, close, and trusted friend of mine decided to have an intimate night of fun including LSD and cannabis in his apartment. There were some people over there in the evening and they had vacated early. So we both dropped our single blotter hits and kind of made our own ways around his apartment. He was in his room and I was out in the living room channel surfing. Well the familiar feeling started coming to the both of us and we came to a space of togetherness in his living room. There was music (darker music than I wanted to hear) and Super Nintendo going on. Mostly, like any other night spent hanging out and having fun. Happy Gilmore came on the TV after a while. I think it was just in the VCR and I hit play. By this time we were both into goofy psychedelic reverie, laughing and cracking jokes about any such thing that crossed our minds. Then the bong came out. Packed with "dirt weed", we began to smoke and pass it back and forth. It came on to me, I noticed internally. The pot was skewing things very differently. I was looking at the TV screen right at the moment when Adam Sandler was making a swing with a golf club and his arms and shoulders and club created such tracers that started to come out of the TV and spread into a circular motion that began to encompass the right side of the room. I didn't think "whoa, WTF!?", I immediately had the thought of "did I take too much?" The bong was still being passed and when it came to me again, I refused. The air became thick and taking slow deep breaths did nothing to help. I got up from my position on the floor and began to pace. From that point on I became so internally agonized with the thought of being mixed into this soup of an atmosphere from which I could find no escape. Every breath was integrating me deeper and deeper into it. I told my friend I was really afraid that I was being mixed into some some hellish place. Of course he played it off at first, innocently. We had always, 100%, had the times of our lives tripping together before. I let him know the gravity of the situation, literally begging for his help. He sat me down on the couch. I told him of my deep unshakable fear of being lost forever in this infinite hell-soup that had become my reality. He councelled me the best he could, telling me I would come out of this terrible time once the drug had worn off, that I would be the same old guy I had always been. I really liked the thought of that. But inside I didn't believe him. I thought "how can he know? He has no idea what this is like." I tried to pull him into the space I was in with me. I thought that if he could just be here and experience this too he would know just how fucking bad it was. I was pacing more and he could barely keep me contained in his apartment. I didn't leave, but I did go in and wake up his roommate who was also a friend of mine. The poor guy asleep being awakened to me babbling about being sucked into hell. Bleary-eyed, he told me I'd be ok and to please just let him sleep. For some reason I very much respected his request and did not disturb him further. The rest of the night was spent in waves of me thinking "ok, it's wearing off" then "shit! it's coming back around!". Waves! It took ages for exhaustion to take ahold of me, but it finally did after the sun was well up shining into the living room. I went to sleep on the couch. Waking up in hell, and telling myself it would go away, and falling back asleep.
Well let me tell you dear reader, those waves kept coming and going for 8 to 10 years after that experience. I am now at this point 12 years from the last time I took a psychedelic substance. I have smoked cannabis a few times on social occasions and every time it brought me into that old space, but more of a physically shakey/pacing state. A flavor, but not as intense. But even without anything in my system I felt those heat waves from hell coming back to wash over me. I am all out of it now, and the tides of hellishness have waned completely, but still I hold a deep shock when I see strong artwork or linguistic description of a psychedelic nature.
To be continued........
