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Rising Star
Dosage:
unknown - N,N-DMT
unknown - 5-MeO-DMT
It was to be our fourth incursion into the void using spice. I had only gotten a noticeable effect the time prior- it felt like basking in the warmth of 'God'- knowing that hadn't even been a 'breakthrough', I was eager to up the ante.
It was 2am. G and I had left a larger gathering. The host, N, a much more experienced psychonaut, showed G and I through his kitchen- where a crockpot on the stove contained a pulpy brown concoction- to the living room. A king-size bed on the floor with ample padding took up most of the windowless space; celtic tapestries and psychedelic art adorned the walls. Near a calendar of mystical art hung a toy model of a molecular composition. The apartment was in what was once the first floor of a chapel.
An inviting ivory pile the size of a dime was in the small glass pipe N handed us.
G took the first rip. She didn't get anything- perhaps she was too afraid of burning the material.
The flame quivered in the air above the bowl. I took a deep, deep rip. It was harsh, but I pulled it all in. About five seconds into inhaling, I stopped feeling the smoke travel down my throat. My stomach sank. Suddenly, it felt as though I had been cast into an unfathomably large space- a vast, cavernous abyss, unrivaled by even the Marina Trench. A sound of phenomenal, unreal depth struck my being.
A low, low sound.
N laughed. "Hey man, hand me the bowl."
I have no recollection of it, but apparently I reached out halfway to give him the pipe. After he got out of his seat, walked forward, and removed it from my hands, my arms and hands remained outreached, unmoving for three minutes, three minutes unremembered. Stock-still, barely breathing. Falling into myself. Diving into the void.
G said later this is when she knew something was going to go wrong.
G said something like 'are you OK?'. A distortion of her voice echoed throughout my skull. It had a strange cadence- an alien resonance. I turned slowly to look at her- I wish that I hadn't.
Her face splintered into several neon triangles. They extended past her outline and swallowed her visage, now a giant angular patchwork of opaque polygons, utterly unrecognizable. They wrapped behind what had been her head, forming an undulating chromatic mane. Finally, the sinuous mane redoubled upon her face, transmogrifying it into a demonic kaleidoscope.
Resolute psychic agony, utter ontological disruption. Time syncopated, unpredictable. N and G no longer had faces, but masks of pulsating, fractured light. No longer friends, but insectoids, gyrating to dark unmusic, chanting in tongues.
My body began to disintegrate, fibers unraveling into the fearful aether. A brief multiplicity of being. Alienated from my own biology, electrochemical matter ceased to be the defining characteristic of 'realness'- I felt part and parcel of a more pure ontic category, horrifying in its unfamiliarity.
The void completely deprived me of will, as though driving me towards some dark purpose, unable to resist its hateful consummation. A sinister kinetic energy underscored intermittent blackouts and spinning images, intolerable motion- an induction to a timeless dark ritual. It was ineffable darkness- a primal evil penetrating my soul. An idea, a protestation to the forces affecting my cognizance, an appeal to this demonic energy approaching the semantic field of 'but', kept crossing my mind. "Stop swallowing me."
This prismatic hell was simultaneously a place and a method- far beyond my perceptions- not even on the spectrum of altered states- not even in the same conceptual plane- beyond being or action. Hyper-saturated colors washed over the deep, impenetrable walls in pixelated waves, my mind struggling desperately to repattern inexplicable geometries into discrete space and objects.
I was a droplet slipping off of a precipice and into a bottomless black lagoon, spiraling hopelessly towards the unknown, eventually made, incidentally, a part of a large organism- something much, much greater than me. Any time I would nearly recollect command of my faculties- reality would again irretrievably dissolve, casting me into another ocean of fine fears. Nostalgia for forgotten emotions, specific flavors of anxiety from my past came to surface. It was utterly overwhelming.
There were numerous auditory hallucinations- utterances unable to be reproduced with human articulators- one that kept reoccurring could be roughly phonologically rendered as "OUNPH SZPRAH".
Eventually my facial recognition returned and physical reality sublimated out of the cosmic murk. Tears were running down my cheeks. They said my eyes had rolled back into my head, likely what had caused the repeated blackouts, and that at one point I had stood up and said "I hate this place! I have to go!"
I remembered how awful it felt when they grabbed me and forced me down onto the bed- the softness, the lack of tactile response, had made me feel as though I was melting.
My heart was beating rapidly. The afterglow was amazing: I was very glad it was over. Ecstasy mingled with lingering terror.
My sojourn in the void has left me shaken. For a few days after it felt like I had a knot in my brain. Sometimes when I close my eyes I still hear that low sound from a distance. That trip was several magnitudes more fucked up than I have ever been. L, Phens, Mes et al- all cornerstore candy in comparison. Demi is a substance that *substances* do: a none-such of cognition-affective matter. It gave me a great appreciation for how much control you still possess when simply drunk or stoned.
I remembered recently that while I was tripping, in an attempt to placate me N had said "It's all love."
Could love really be that terrifying?
unknown - N,N-DMT
unknown - 5-MeO-DMT
It was to be our fourth incursion into the void using spice. I had only gotten a noticeable effect the time prior- it felt like basking in the warmth of 'God'- knowing that hadn't even been a 'breakthrough', I was eager to up the ante.
It was 2am. G and I had left a larger gathering. The host, N, a much more experienced psychonaut, showed G and I through his kitchen- where a crockpot on the stove contained a pulpy brown concoction- to the living room. A king-size bed on the floor with ample padding took up most of the windowless space; celtic tapestries and psychedelic art adorned the walls. Near a calendar of mystical art hung a toy model of a molecular composition. The apartment was in what was once the first floor of a chapel.
An inviting ivory pile the size of a dime was in the small glass pipe N handed us.
G took the first rip. She didn't get anything- perhaps she was too afraid of burning the material.
The flame quivered in the air above the bowl. I took a deep, deep rip. It was harsh, but I pulled it all in. About five seconds into inhaling, I stopped feeling the smoke travel down my throat. My stomach sank. Suddenly, it felt as though I had been cast into an unfathomably large space- a vast, cavernous abyss, unrivaled by even the Marina Trench. A sound of phenomenal, unreal depth struck my being.
A low, low sound.
N laughed. "Hey man, hand me the bowl."
I have no recollection of it, but apparently I reached out halfway to give him the pipe. After he got out of his seat, walked forward, and removed it from my hands, my arms and hands remained outreached, unmoving for three minutes, three minutes unremembered. Stock-still, barely breathing. Falling into myself. Diving into the void.
G said later this is when she knew something was going to go wrong.
G said something like 'are you OK?'. A distortion of her voice echoed throughout my skull. It had a strange cadence- an alien resonance. I turned slowly to look at her- I wish that I hadn't.
Her face splintered into several neon triangles. They extended past her outline and swallowed her visage, now a giant angular patchwork of opaque polygons, utterly unrecognizable. They wrapped behind what had been her head, forming an undulating chromatic mane. Finally, the sinuous mane redoubled upon her face, transmogrifying it into a demonic kaleidoscope.
Resolute psychic agony, utter ontological disruption. Time syncopated, unpredictable. N and G no longer had faces, but masks of pulsating, fractured light. No longer friends, but insectoids, gyrating to dark unmusic, chanting in tongues.
My body began to disintegrate, fibers unraveling into the fearful aether. A brief multiplicity of being. Alienated from my own biology, electrochemical matter ceased to be the defining characteristic of 'realness'- I felt part and parcel of a more pure ontic category, horrifying in its unfamiliarity.
The void completely deprived me of will, as though driving me towards some dark purpose, unable to resist its hateful consummation. A sinister kinetic energy underscored intermittent blackouts and spinning images, intolerable motion- an induction to a timeless dark ritual. It was ineffable darkness- a primal evil penetrating my soul. An idea, a protestation to the forces affecting my cognizance, an appeal to this demonic energy approaching the semantic field of 'but', kept crossing my mind. "Stop swallowing me."
This prismatic hell was simultaneously a place and a method- far beyond my perceptions- not even on the spectrum of altered states- not even in the same conceptual plane- beyond being or action. Hyper-saturated colors washed over the deep, impenetrable walls in pixelated waves, my mind struggling desperately to repattern inexplicable geometries into discrete space and objects.
I was a droplet slipping off of a precipice and into a bottomless black lagoon, spiraling hopelessly towards the unknown, eventually made, incidentally, a part of a large organism- something much, much greater than me. Any time I would nearly recollect command of my faculties- reality would again irretrievably dissolve, casting me into another ocean of fine fears. Nostalgia for forgotten emotions, specific flavors of anxiety from my past came to surface. It was utterly overwhelming.
There were numerous auditory hallucinations- utterances unable to be reproduced with human articulators- one that kept reoccurring could be roughly phonologically rendered as "OUNPH SZPRAH".
Eventually my facial recognition returned and physical reality sublimated out of the cosmic murk. Tears were running down my cheeks. They said my eyes had rolled back into my head, likely what had caused the repeated blackouts, and that at one point I had stood up and said "I hate this place! I have to go!"
I remembered how awful it felt when they grabbed me and forced me down onto the bed- the softness, the lack of tactile response, had made me feel as though I was melting.
My heart was beating rapidly. The afterglow was amazing: I was very glad it was over. Ecstasy mingled with lingering terror.
My sojourn in the void has left me shaken. For a few days after it felt like I had a knot in my brain. Sometimes when I close my eyes I still hear that low sound from a distance. That trip was several magnitudes more fucked up than I have ever been. L, Phens, Mes et al- all cornerstore candy in comparison. Demi is a substance that *substances* do: a none-such of cognition-affective matter. It gave me a great appreciation for how much control you still possess when simply drunk or stoned.
I remembered recently that while I was tripping, in an attempt to placate me N had said "It's all love."
Could love really be that terrifying?
