Hey
@Maddd_Maxxx 
welcome!
Firstly, I agree with
@Varallo and see no wrong in writing about DMT in your novel without having tried it. I'm confused why people would take issue with this.. If anything it might add a unique quality to the story telling.
I'm sorry to hear that you are feeling alone right now and that you feel distanced from the community and I hope you can feel comfortable engaging with us here.. we're mostly a pretty friendly bunch and I'm sure many will be interested to hear your ideas. Are there other reasons you feel distanced from the psychedelic community? Is this also in real life or are you just referring to the internet forums?
Also, it is totally normal to feel a little trepid about trying DMT - it has a reputation for being earth shatteringly powerful - a reputation that is well and truly earned. That said, more often than not I think people are pleasantly surprised by the feeling of DMT.. but there's definitely no rush to go there! It sounds like you've already cultivated a great deal of respect for DMT, and when you finally try it I imagine something beautiful awaits you.
I love the name Engine for the entity.. can you tell us more about this being as well as the main character of your book? And yes feel free to post anything for proof reading or general feedback here. We have art, music and literature section under the Culture and Society heading if you scroll down the home page.
Thank you, I really appreciate the kindness! I’ve just felt distanced from the community in general, online and IRL. I work at a smoke shop, and most of the psychonauts I speak with typically do it for recreation use, not spiritual. I’ve wanted to talk to people who are searching for more like I am, and it just has genuinely been a bit of a struggle. I’ve found it surprising considering the community is based around substances that induce ego death and encourage us to grow or face challenges. Some psychonauts act like they are better than everyone else and that confuses me. I realized recently I might just be looking in the wrong place. I want to speak to people that entertain that there might be countless possibilities and nothing is an inherently “wrong” idea. I’ve also always been very interested in the nonhuman, including aliens, animals, and angels. When I heard people can meet entities through DMT, I was immediately interested. I love the idea what we can talk to things that know more than us and have relationships with them.
And thank you for sharing my respect for DMT. I want to make sure I am fully prepared when I do go in, and I know it is always rule #1 in travels to be emotionally ready to take on the trip. Strassman’s book really put me in my place and advised me to approach with caution but also curiosity.
I absolutely adore Engine! They are an entity that finds Jason when he enters his first DMT trip. I would love to meet someone like Engine. Jason is a psychonaut in his mid-twenties that is searching for just any answer to what reality is. He has followed religions, been atheist, meditated, and now his search has come to psychedelics. He’s done shrooms and believes he can take on DMT, but he goes in too deep over his head. He calls Engine “Engine” because of the sound it makes, and the closest thing I can imagine it to is the TARDIS landing. There is also a song called “Colorful Clouds” by Ascent, Shogan, and Liquid Sound that I feel captures Engine’s energy. Engine is incredibly protective of Jason, and I am currently writing a scene where Engine protects Jason from an entity that attempts to consume him. Engine is serious but also very, very funny and loves to laugh. I imagine that it is content where it is in the universe, but it would also love to manifest itself on earth as a human and experience all aspects of humanity to its fullest, including the good and bad. Engine would definitely be a metalhead and Metallica fan. It finds great happiness in “mortal” things and gets excited when humans visit.
I don’t know exactly how to describe Engine’s appearance. This is definitely the hardest part of making a DMT entity character. All I know is that Engine is massive, kind of like a starship. It has a lot of shapes within its form, especially spades, and it hangs out in its own “room”. It does not leave this space unless it is to retrieve a human that is being attacked.
Here is Jason’s first encounter with Engine:
Jason’s hands tremble as the pipe settles between his fingers. His heart palpitates and parades in his chest. The excitement revs as the mouthpiece joins his lips and the sparkling crackle of the light flares before him. The flame lowers into the bowl, igniting the yellowish crystals. A peculiar smell, like a car spinning its tires over concrete, fills Jason’s nostrils as he inhales. As the psychedelic fog roams in his lungs and around his tongue, he glances about, admiring the familiar pulsing patterns that extend over his vision. Memories of magic mushrooms flood his mind.
A deep exhale surges up from his diaphragm as he leans back into his headboard, listening to the oak frame lightly tap against the wall. The kaleidoscope before him blesses all the objects in the room, falling upon them like shafts of sunlight. A small smile falls across his face as the light show continues, growing ever more so rapid and complicated. Shapes split from each other, birthing more glorious patterns that funnel down a long tunnel.
A bit of dread settles.
Whirring, like an extended squeal of train brakes, loops around Jason in a bizarre way. It is equally before him, around him, and inside him. It is him. Odd echoes of a choir belt out in the hastening bombardment, groaning and cheering in acapella.
“What did I do?” Jason mutters before reality caves in.
The walls of the bedroom breathe and wrinkle and ripple as they spread apart to rush Jason into a brilliant spiral, and it eats and devours human reality. A nauseating prismatic image bellows out as he dives deeper into the uncontrollable, organized yet not, chaos.
Jason’s humanity struggles to claw back down the path, eager to rejoin his body and the familiar comforts of a warm bed, a friend just a couple floors away, and even the occasional back pain. It is normal. The trash truck beeping and rumbling down the street every Wednesday morning is normal. Wednesday is normal. God, he loves his calendar. Time. Time is so normal. A beeping watch. A planned date. His boss bitching he arrived two minutes late.
Normal. Human. But those things don’t matter nor exist here. No one here gives a damn about time because they are time. Or maybe they are outside of time.
Without time??
A powerful wave of distress billows through, and the colors convulse and dissipate into a room, filled with infinite columns and mirrors and energy beyond words. It whips around and around and around before something snags on, holding the undulating world still as it continues to vibrate and pulse and split into yet another something. A gentle, rhythmic chug, like a tornado moseying across a Kansas plain, drifts in, announcing the presence of an entity. The chugs evolve into an infinite loop of revving, mechanical roars.
Chug…CHug…CHUG…rrrrAAAAAA…RRRRAAAAAAA….
A soft pound of kindness empties into the space. Messages without a clear source or voice emanates out and about and sifts through the bludgeoning spiral of shapes, slowing their movements as it courses towards. They are spontaneous understandings, living outside the need for sentences and vocabulary.
Are you okay?
Jason feels himself hook onto an ounce of self.
No. I am so, so scared right now. Now? Is there a now?
Not really. But don’t be scared. It’s different. But different isn’t scary. Who were you? It knows who he is. It just wants him to tell it.
Were? Oh my God, I’m dead!
The space shudders and ruptures into a downpour of white and blue, clashing and dividing and splashing as an obnoxious symphony of groans and shrieks runs amok. A hot blast of fear shocks the fabric, but something siphons the sparkling away, bringing Jason back.
You’re not dead. You are still very much alive. In your human body. Can you tell me who you were before you came here?
I don’t know. I just appeared here.
That’s okay. You don’t have to remember, but you will when you go back. But you are here, and that is okay. I am here with you.
Please help me.
What’s wrong?
I’m scared. I made a horrible mistake.
What did you do?
I think I killed myself. This is more than I thought would happen.
Here, I can help.
The randomized colors and pounding veins of light and sound and speech emit a haunting creak and they shift away, pulling Jason into a black void.
No! Come back. I don’t want to go anywhere else.
It is okay. I am still here, but now you can rest your mind.
Jason’s visuals rotate in the psychedelic space, and a soft chill ventures around him as he observes the velvet darkness. The entity’s housing has pushed away, as if he is now watching a film in a space between worlds. The dimension beyond alters its colors, focusing more on bright shots of purple and swirling panels of green and pink. Jason senses another being enter alongside the other, and they “exchange words”. Jason senses the messages, but the exact details are far beyond reach yet almost audible, as if they are conversing behind a thin film of plastic. The newcomer leaves, its energy fading off as it shifts through a “wall”.
What’s your name? Jason asks.
A blast of rickety sounds, like a shrieking, cawing crow, ripples and echoes, the tail end of the belts shivering into a pulsing whine.
SKREEya, SKREEya-chic-chic-chic, SKREEya. While the sound itself is alien, it delivers a familiar sensation. It reminds Jason of when he was around four, just developing his sentience, and he was riding in his father’s beaten pickup. The truck had carried them on countless adventures, to the local supermarket to the silent shores of the beach. He had gandered up at the moon and asked why it was following them.
His father smirked under his hammer bar mustache and scratched the glowing bald spot at the back of his head. He laughed heartily. “It isn’t. It’s just so far away that it doesn’t really look like it is moving.”
Jason kicked his shoes, watching Spiderman erupt in a series of sparkles as the red LEDs in his sneakers activated. “How far away is it?”
“Very, very far. Like how Mars is really far away.”
“Like in the telescope?”
“Just like in the telescope.”
The entity didn’t condemn his question. It was so innocent to it, finding interest in his ignorance but not claiming he was stupid.
You can call me whatever you want. I don’t have a name. Names don’t exist here.
Then what do you call each other?
A warm electricity envelopes Jason as he drifts into the comfortable darkness, and a muted peace fills him, pushing out against his existence intensely but not uncomfortably. It cares for him so, so much. Unbelievably so. It is focusing on so many things right now, including other places, dimensions, areas in this space, and even physical manifestations. It is a flea right now but also a black hole devouring a nearby starcluster. Nearby? Not nearby. Nearby to this entity, though. Space is not an obstacle to travel. Nothing is. But even with everything it tends to, it still has its full attention on Jason. There is no separation of focus.
The feeling fades.
That is what they call me, and what I call myself.
Are you God?
A flurry of chuckles comenses again, and the joyous sound raids the void, resonating with the molecules and other things passing through Jason.
Goodness, no. God is everything, not just me or you. The both of us together are closer to being God than apart. I am very pleased to have met you.
The dimension window starts to pull away, and a bright whirring floods Jason again. A chrysanthemum of spinning petals and dots and shards envelops the blackness, pulling Jason far, far away.
No, wait! I still want to talk to you. Panic settles in again, and his consciousness reaches back out, trying to force himself away from his human body
.
I am always here, even without the DMT. It is time to go back, Jason.
