I had a very bizarre experience with an impure extract that probably contained a lot of 5-me0 and other stuff in addition to spice. I did not break through, as my usual 3d sensibilities were left intact, so this may be a more boring report than a lot of what's on here, but I was nevertheless caught completely unprepared and put through one heck of a ride, so I decided to take the time to write it up. This was also posted on a different board.
Having been given a razor with a thin line of some kind of extract on it, I removed about 1/4 and vaporized it. Within moments, my sense of consciousness changed. This was not a dramatic shift, but it demonstrated that whatever this extract was, it clearly was active in a vaporizer.
Cut to two hours later. My girlfriend is passed out in the back bedroom, and my body is tense with caffeine and carbonized canabinnoids. This is not the proper time to dive deeper, but I am stubborn and determined. I scrape up the rest of the line with a pin and drop it into the vaporizer. I fill a bag. My heart is beating faster now, I feel unprepared. I breathe slowly and calmly. I tell myself that "everything will be fine" over and over as I start to inhale. After one full lungful, there is a swelling intensity in my body that hits with the rush of nitrious but feels somehow both deeper and slower. I take a second breath, and then a third. Audio is doing crazy things in the background now, is it really possible that all the noise in the room is coming from one little fan? As I exhale the third, I sense growing alarm in my ego which expresses itself as a voice saying "do not take a fourth breath" but I ignore it and start to inhale again. At a certain point I must have stopped, because I later found the bag on the floor, partially inflated. I remember telling myself "everything will be fine", over and over, until it no longer made sense or provided any comfort. Will be? There is no Will Be here, boy, there is just the horror and the wonder of what Is. My protective thought is impotent, I have brought a knife to a battle that is being waged with nuclear weapons.
My eyes are closed now, how that happened or when that happened I am not sure. I know I am still in my livingroom, but it somehow feels like I have been pushed into a cave that exactly fits my body and nothing else. There are lights and colors here, but not what I expected. The last time I approached this space, years ago, it was full of a vast interlocking matrix. Whatever it is I am seeing now, it is very different, and I am filled with fear. The things which normally give me comfort are so far in the distance that I cannot contextualize them, and the effort leaves me anxious. On some level I wonder if I have been poisoned, if the extract was not sufficiently purified, if the person who made it might have fucked up in some subtle and terrible way.
Somehow I make my way from the floor to the couch. I don't remember doing this, but when I open my eyes, my viewpoint is from the couch. A wave of linguistic awareness hits. "It's all you". Everything I can see, everything I can think, is a product of my own mind. Everything I have ever experienced, everything I might ever imagine, is all part of me. The simple truth of this floors me, even as my body burns with an intense fire, the tryptamine running through my veins turns me in to The Body Electric. I am aware on some level that this is similar to the extreme mental sex of strong LSD, and I open my eyes. On some non verbal level I'm aware that doses of acid which approach this feeling are full of geometeric distortions, tracers, patterns, and it is for these things I search with open eyes. I find none. My vision is not distorted in this way, it is more that the usual context for everything is missing. On some level I had opened my eyes hoping that the familiarity of known objects would soothe me, but there is no familarity in what I am seeing (beyond the overwhelming impression that I Have Been Here Before. Oh shit this again, oh fuck not this again holy God this again...). The drawer on the coffee table in front of me somehow has something in common with the chair across from me. This is difficult to describe. All of the things in the room have been reduced to their pure essance as Things In The Room, and so impossibly they all look the same, what I see is the same thing spread out before me reflected in every bit of matter I can perceive. The best explanation I can offer is silly; "the room was all at once full of elves, and at the same time it was all The Same Elf"). And still, "It's all you", the voice in my head repeats. All my greatest fears and deepest hopes reduced to this idea.
The essence of everything I see is that of the Alien, the Unknown, the Unknowable. Normal day to day meanings are still distant, but slightly visible, and I am overcome with fear and doubt. I have the thought that I must leave this place and never come back, because the things that I take comfort in experiencing under ordinary circumstances have been completely ripped away from me. I decide to look at a clock. I half-walk, half-crawl into the back room, and see that it is 9:57. I am able to understand what this means, and tell myself that by 10:15 the anxiety I feel now will be a distant memory.
This was not a ++++ experience by any means. Perhaps a 2, maybe even a 2.5, but that's about it. And even at that, it shredded my preconceptions, maimed my rationality and completely disintegrated the context I use to understand the world. I am speechless, I am awed, I am humbled. I came to the Moment with expectations, and the Moment showed me that all expectations are a lie and that all preparation is an exercise in futility. That which cannot be understood with words, cannot be prepared for (or even described) with them, either.
At 10:24 I was mostly ready for bed. I had some back-and-forth on AIM with a spice loving friend. I ask him if with all his experience he is able to better contextualize his trips. "No", he says, "it's just as bizarre every time".
Now I am left with the same question that has hounded Strassman: what is DMT, and what is its usual purpose in the human body?
Having been given a razor with a thin line of some kind of extract on it, I removed about 1/4 and vaporized it. Within moments, my sense of consciousness changed. This was not a dramatic shift, but it demonstrated that whatever this extract was, it clearly was active in a vaporizer.
Cut to two hours later. My girlfriend is passed out in the back bedroom, and my body is tense with caffeine and carbonized canabinnoids. This is not the proper time to dive deeper, but I am stubborn and determined. I scrape up the rest of the line with a pin and drop it into the vaporizer. I fill a bag. My heart is beating faster now, I feel unprepared. I breathe slowly and calmly. I tell myself that "everything will be fine" over and over as I start to inhale. After one full lungful, there is a swelling intensity in my body that hits with the rush of nitrious but feels somehow both deeper and slower. I take a second breath, and then a third. Audio is doing crazy things in the background now, is it really possible that all the noise in the room is coming from one little fan? As I exhale the third, I sense growing alarm in my ego which expresses itself as a voice saying "do not take a fourth breath" but I ignore it and start to inhale again. At a certain point I must have stopped, because I later found the bag on the floor, partially inflated. I remember telling myself "everything will be fine", over and over, until it no longer made sense or provided any comfort. Will be? There is no Will Be here, boy, there is just the horror and the wonder of what Is. My protective thought is impotent, I have brought a knife to a battle that is being waged with nuclear weapons.
My eyes are closed now, how that happened or when that happened I am not sure. I know I am still in my livingroom, but it somehow feels like I have been pushed into a cave that exactly fits my body and nothing else. There are lights and colors here, but not what I expected. The last time I approached this space, years ago, it was full of a vast interlocking matrix. Whatever it is I am seeing now, it is very different, and I am filled with fear. The things which normally give me comfort are so far in the distance that I cannot contextualize them, and the effort leaves me anxious. On some level I wonder if I have been poisoned, if the extract was not sufficiently purified, if the person who made it might have fucked up in some subtle and terrible way.
Somehow I make my way from the floor to the couch. I don't remember doing this, but when I open my eyes, my viewpoint is from the couch. A wave of linguistic awareness hits. "It's all you". Everything I can see, everything I can think, is a product of my own mind. Everything I have ever experienced, everything I might ever imagine, is all part of me. The simple truth of this floors me, even as my body burns with an intense fire, the tryptamine running through my veins turns me in to The Body Electric. I am aware on some level that this is similar to the extreme mental sex of strong LSD, and I open my eyes. On some non verbal level I'm aware that doses of acid which approach this feeling are full of geometeric distortions, tracers, patterns, and it is for these things I search with open eyes. I find none. My vision is not distorted in this way, it is more that the usual context for everything is missing. On some level I had opened my eyes hoping that the familiarity of known objects would soothe me, but there is no familarity in what I am seeing (beyond the overwhelming impression that I Have Been Here Before. Oh shit this again, oh fuck not this again holy God this again...). The drawer on the coffee table in front of me somehow has something in common with the chair across from me. This is difficult to describe. All of the things in the room have been reduced to their pure essance as Things In The Room, and so impossibly they all look the same, what I see is the same thing spread out before me reflected in every bit of matter I can perceive. The best explanation I can offer is silly; "the room was all at once full of elves, and at the same time it was all The Same Elf"). And still, "It's all you", the voice in my head repeats. All my greatest fears and deepest hopes reduced to this idea.
The essence of everything I see is that of the Alien, the Unknown, the Unknowable. Normal day to day meanings are still distant, but slightly visible, and I am overcome with fear and doubt. I have the thought that I must leave this place and never come back, because the things that I take comfort in experiencing under ordinary circumstances have been completely ripped away from me. I decide to look at a clock. I half-walk, half-crawl into the back room, and see that it is 9:57. I am able to understand what this means, and tell myself that by 10:15 the anxiety I feel now will be a distant memory.
This was not a ++++ experience by any means. Perhaps a 2, maybe even a 2.5, but that's about it. And even at that, it shredded my preconceptions, maimed my rationality and completely disintegrated the context I use to understand the world. I am speechless, I am awed, I am humbled. I came to the Moment with expectations, and the Moment showed me that all expectations are a lie and that all preparation is an exercise in futility. That which cannot be understood with words, cannot be prepared for (or even described) with them, either.
At 10:24 I was mostly ready for bed. I had some back-and-forth on AIM with a spice loving friend. I ask him if with all his experience he is able to better contextualize his trips. "No", he says, "it's just as bizarre every time".
Now I am left with the same question that has hounded Strassman: what is DMT, and what is its usual purpose in the human body?
