Thursday, April 25, 2019 - 12:00 PM-2:30PM
Substance/Dosage:
DMT - 40 mg., 45 mg., residue
Weight at time of experience: 184 lbs.
Setting: home
Companions: solo
I’ve been putting off writing this post out of embarrassment. This round of experiments was a fucking mess. I’d like to think of myself as an intelligent, responsible, adult consumer of psychoactive chemicals. However, this week I was grossly irresponsible and disrespectful of myself and this molecule.
I’d been wanting to go another round with DMT but had been chickening out. On Wednesday I’d even taken out all my gear and even started to measure out a dose when I just abruptly changed my mind and put everything away. Thursday I woke up and told myself I was being a coward and that I need to see what it is in myself that I’m feeling afraid to confront. After loading my piece up with 40 milligrams, I cleaned up, smudged the apartment, struck my little gong a few times, and meditated a few minutes before getting started.
As I was taking my second hit and feeling the blastoff start, a large, mounted poster fell off my wall with a big noise, startling me. I sat bolt upright and shouted “What the fuck?!” I quickly realized I was not in danger and told myself “It’s ok! It’s ok!” I finished my second hit and managed to get a third little one in before laying down. I was still very shaken as I slipped into the realm.
A black and grey fog covered my view and immediately I started seeing and feeling hands around my face and neck that hinted at smothering or choking me. I didn’t actually feel like either of those things were actually happening but there was something discomforting and threatening about it. A dark, flying, feminine entity in swirling black and grey robes appeared before me. It was very close and stared directly into my face and it kept showing me its hands. Despite this, I wasn’t afraid. I actually said out loud, “Well, this is dark.” The entity repeatedly got straight up in my face in a sort of challenge and then would launch backward and upward into black space, her robes flapping like crows’ wings. I didn’t ask it any questions but later I would wonder if I should have. I soon felt the effects of the drug wearing off.
When I was back down I felt physically well and not too shaken emotionally. I was bummed about the alarming yet benign distraction that started my trip but intrigued by the dark visions that came in its wake. Much like when I wake from interesting dreams, I wondered if maybe I could or should go back into the realm and try to engage with the entity again. I decided to give it a shot. I loaded up my piece again and got to work with my torch. What followed was a manifestation of my worst fear of taking DMT alone. I’d characterize the psychedelic experience as a hard shut-out of the realm and I’m so grateful it was.
After taking my second hit, I moved to put the torch down but when I released the trigger, the flame did not extinguish. I immediately panicked, fearing I’d start a fire if I lost consciousness. I struggled with the trigger to no avail. I banged the torch against my coffee table and still the flame jetted from the nozzle. Terrified, I drove the nozzle hard into my pant leg even though I knew I might burn myself and it went out. I looked up at a poster on my wall and it was animated but with a terrible, ghoulish energy. I laid back on the couch and closed my eyes. I found myself inside a dark, pulsing womb. Wet, red, fleshy folds with a slowly morphing pattern tattooed were all I could see behind my eyelids. The vibe was almost like being locked in a damp basement. I was really disappointed and chastised myself for being so irresponsible.
When I was able to sit up again, my mood was frustrated and tired and angry. I looked at my pipe and the pool of slightly burnt but re-crystallized DMT in the bulb. I fiddled with the pipe to figure out what the problem was. I quickly realized that the flame lock is on the left side of the handle. I’d been operating the torch left-handed and accidentally engaged it. I was annoyed both with myself and the manufacturer. Rashly, I picked up the pipe and the torch (with my RIGHT hand) and just ripped at it desperately. I don’t know what I thought I was doing. You don’t just cash a DMT oil burner like it’s a clogged bowl of weed. Immediately I regretted what I did. I felt like I followed a big distraction with a big accident with a huge disrespect for the spice. I laid back on the couch in the fetal position and found myself back in the dirty womb. I stayed there for a good 15 minutes waiting for the effects to wear off. When they did, I somberly got up and took a shower.
I will never use a torch while using DMT solo again. The accident that I averted would have been devastating for myself, my roommate, my cat, and the residents of my building if I hadn’t. I feel ashamed but, lesson learned.
No comments:
Post a Comment