DOSE:

100 mg

insufflated

DPT

(powder / crystals)

“Quod ali cibus est aliis fuat acre venenum”
[What is food to one man may be fierce poison to others]

–Lucretius (c. 99-55 B.C.E.)


Introduction

Like many others before me, prior to ‘Operation Web Trip’ I had taken advantage of the abundance of research chemicals available to order over the internet. I have always been a cautious person, and as such I invested in a set of .001g scales and a variety of paraphernalia to insure that I was fully equipped for what I felt I needed to do. Before things got out of hand, I must have had at least a dozen experiences on DPT, DiPT, 5-MEO-DMT and 2ci. Prior to obtaining these chemicals I had experimented with alcohol, cannabis, MDMA, speed, cocaine and magic mushrooms. However, after reading various trip reports relating to the phenomena of ‘ego loss’ and other such transpersonal episodes, I became determined to experience my own ++++ trip and decided to bring my friends and my brother along for the ride.

Participants

Including myself, there were a total of five participants. All names have been changed to protect the identities of those concerned.

The Setting

Approximately 2pm on a sunny Sunday afternoon in my bedroom. The night before each of us had a very positive ++ experience on 50mg of DiPT, so decided at the last minute that we would all try insufflating 100mg of DPT. This was an extremely foolish decision on our part, especially considering we did not have a sitter present and only my brother and I had any previous experience with DPT. Both of our experiences had been relatively calm ++ to +++ experiences, but with the benefit of hindsight I think this had more to do with us attempting to clear our sinuses after taking the drug by continuously sniffing. The nasal drip on this stuff really is something else, but sniffing afterwards results in a lot of the powder dripping down my throat and therefore effectively wasted. I warned all concerned to resist the temptation to do so on this occasion, which may partly explain the intensity of the forthcoming trip.

The Experience

I carefully weighed out five separate 100mg doses of the orange powder, inserted a red-tinted light-bulb into the holder for effect and switched it on. I divided my line into halves, and took one up each nostril via a rolled up £5 note. Each of my friends did the same. I put on a CD by “The Album Leaf”, which has always been our preferred tripping music, and we all lay down to await the first effects of the drug.

I remember commenting on how harsh the nasal drip was. Five minutes later, I began to notice the first telltale signs I always get at the start of a trip. The room had taken on a shimmering yellow glow and I began to feel slightly dissociated. Nothing too intense, nothing I hadn’t experienced before.

Ten minutes into the trip and my visual field was engulfed in pulsating geometrical shapes, and I could feel my eyes strain as my pupils became increasingly dilated with each passing moment. I stopped feeling this sensation when I stopped feeling anything, as my entire being was absorbed in fractal illusions and shards of light that emanated from every corner of existence. “This is hitting me hard”, ‘I’ said aloud, and could hear murmurs of confused agreement from my friends. I sat cross legged on the floor and moved my hands frantically in different directions in front of my eyes, attempting to recreate a trance-like ‘dance’ state I had entered whilst on magic mushrooms the previous year. Looking back, this was more of an attempt to hold on to my rapidly disintegrating ego - to cling on to an aspect of a reality that I knew I was once part of. My hands became a blur of colour and motion, which was quickly absorbed into the psychedelic soup that was rapidly developing around us. Upon realising that such a dance served little purpose where we were going, I lay back and tried to concentrate on the swirling artex pattern on my ceiling.

Approximately 20 minutes into the trip and I had completely lost all sense of self. “I just didn’t expect to feel so dissociated” my brother announced, as I sat up to look around the room. Nothing made sense as all visuals, sounds, thoughts and feelings blended into one big chemical mess as time folded in on itself. I became aware that my brother and Paul were gripping onto each other’s hands, which I was later informed was a mutual attempt to stop each other from slipping away completely. I glanced over at Dave and saw a tear emerge from his eye and roll down his face, and could sense growing anxiety emanating in waves from Paul. “We’ve really done it this time Lads”, I heard Phil say. This struck me as the most profound thing I had ever heard, and I lay back as the echoing sounds of our scattered nervous laughter shimmered and bounced around me. The aforementioned “chemical mess” expanded to engulf existence itself, and I was lost in a timeless paradox of meaningless nonsense.

Overcome by sensation and lacking any physical structure I plummeted into a plethora of consciousness. I was aware of every single life event that had led up to this moment, and could reflect upon the consequences of every choice I had made in the time it took to blink. This was not at all comforting, because the sheer intensity of our experience was quickly reaching a peak and the emotion in the room was far from positive. I came to realise that this intensity was actually hitting me in waves, and once each wave had subsided there would be a moderately ‘calm’ period during which time some basic verbal communication was possible.

I can’t say for certain whether one particular event acted as a main negative ‘trigger’, but I do remember a series of occurrences during these calmer periods that contributed to an ever increasing sense of foreboding. I can recall Phil holding his hand to his nose whilst repeatedly asking us if it was bleeding (it wasn’t), Paul laughing hysterically whilst insisting to everyone in the room that this was going to be a ‘good trip’ and Dave opening the curtains much to our horror, as powerful tendrils of light sliced deep into our expanding awareness. At some point I leapt to my feet and dashed for the door, knocking over two glasses of water in the process. I staggered my way to the living room where one of my non-tripping flatmates was sat watching television. I forced my being through illogical dimensions of shifting space as I made my way through to the kitchen area, where I poured myself another glass of water. The aspects of reality I could distinguish as visuals were tearing everything apart around me, and yet by some miracle I found myself back in my bedroom. I am still amazed by the fact that my flatmate was blissfully unaware of my intoxicated state at that time.

Subsequent conversation was extremely disjointed and lacked any real structure, as each of us was swept away by the drug at different intervals. Dave attempted to change the music on my computer – a task that proved to be far too complex and he gave up almost immediately. I somehow managed to change the track to the “American Beauty” theme before collapsing back on to the floor. The music completely guided the trip and took me to a place I could never even begin to describe, and I could sense that I was not the only person overcome by it. I soon switched the stereo off after we reached a group consensus that music was one facet of stimulation we could do without.

The mounting negative energy was converted into sheer chemical terror upon my personal ‘realisation’ that I may have driven my friends permanently insane. I needed an escape, but any thoughts I could muster soon became abstract constructs that would drift away into obscurity. “What happens if I fall asleep?” I heard myself think, only to hear those words echoed by Phil who verbalised the same sentiment moments later. I lay back and felt my entire being melt away once again as I plunged into a nightmarish tryptamine abyss of overwhelming paranoia and confusion. Somewhere in this lapse my fragmented mind reached the illogical conclusion that sleep was indeed the key, and that I would have to call an ambulance so that the paramedics could induce this state. I staggered to my feet and dashed for the door.

By the time I reached the living room all three of my flatmates were watching TV. “We’ve taken an overdose and need an ambulance” I heard myself announce, and I plunged deeper into a realm of intense fear as I absorbed the sheer panic emanating from the beings around me. Stumbling into the hallway by my bedroom, I repeated my request for an ambulance and could hear terrified echoes of the word “ambulance” coming from my room. “We don’t need an ambulance” Phil exclaimed as he emerged from my room, his face devoid of sanity and understanding. Unparalleled confusion swept across me in a tidal wave as I tried to grasp what was happening. My flatmate approached me with his mobile phone and announced that if we needed an ambulance, the police would have to be involved.

I felt my being dissolve into a chemical haze, and watched as my entire perception and understanding of reality was deconstructed and reformulated around me. All that I ever knew became a simple and yet complex part of an all-encompassing entity, which in turn comprised of an infinite number of other structures and possibilities. Existence, as I had previously understood it, was never real. And neither was ‘I’. Selfless understanding of all that is divine pulsated throughout my aura. Our vessels are not designed to harness this much power.

During the few intervals of consciousness that DPT would allow me to experience, I became aware that I was sat down with my friends in the living room area. Paul was not present at this time, although I was aware of his negative vibrations flowing from my bedroom. My flatmates would not permit us to drink any water, as they were under strict orders from the paramedic on the other end of the phone. Paul eventually stumbled into the room and regurgitated thick red vomit on the floor, and I once again became aware of my ability to experience visuals when I glanced down and saw his intestines bubbling on the carpet.

My flatmate asked me what we were on, so I told him. I asked him how long we would have to wait before the ambulance arrived because I didn’t want us to die, and he told me that he didn’t know. I let myself get up and hug each of my friends for what I thought was the last time. Exhausted and overcome with emotion, I collapsed on the sofa and waited as everything dissolved into timeless insanity.

By the time the police had arrived an overwhelming understanding of existence was pounding through my aura. My flatmates ushered us outside, and in a circular blur of motion I vacated the premises to be confronted by a group of very stern-looking policemen. After trying to take down our names and addresses, they entered my bedroom and seized my chemical sacraments. With some of us screaming in primal terror whilst the rest of us laughed with shamanic joy, we were bundled into an ambulance and driven to the hospital.

During my subsequent lapses into consciousness I reached the conclusion that our entire lives had been the product of an entheogenic trip, and that we were on our way to a mental hospital where we would spend the rest of our lives coming to terms with the intensity of the experience. We arrived at the hospital to be greeted by a team of supposed ‘professionals’, all of whom found our obvious distress highly amusing. The police and the hospital staff led us into a secluded room to ‘come down’, as I contemplated the possibility of suicide as a method of escaping this seemingly infinite cycle of insanity and cosmic realisation.

With the police and paramedics surrounding us in our cell, we all awaited the inevitable. I must have been coming down at this point, as I was able to recall video footage I had seen of government-controlled LSD experiments conducted during the 1960s. And then it all made sense. This was an experiment. My entire life up until this point had seemed real enough, but in ‘reality’ I had been drugged up and locked in this room.

Paul was screaming and my other companions were scared, and yet I was smiling. I had it all worked out. I smiled knowingly at a police officer, convinced that he was part of this.

I suddenly found that I could recognise a linear thought-process emerging, as the visual components of the trip began to frantically vibrate in a comforting display of texture and colour. As I became increasingly relaxed the visuals started blurring, until I was able to recognise a familiar reality lurking behind the entheogenic mist. I smiled with relief as my ego hugged my body in a loving embrace,

The room became a shimmering yellow glow and I felt slightly dissociated. Nothing too intense, nothing I hadn’t experienced before.

And I was back.

Conclusion

If only we had learnt something positive from the trip. DPT is extremely powerful, and after reading other reports of hospitalisation resulting from this drug it’s very hard to take away anything positive from the experience. Three years later and we are all still talking about it – desperately trying to put the whole ordeal into some sort of perspective. Some of us are still haunted by the cosmic realisations we experienced, indeed each of my friend’s accounts varies greatly from the one you have just read.

The ‘standard’ conclusion of a ‘bad trip’ report is to warn people away from the drug, however to do so here would be highly inappropriate and disrespectful to the more experienced psychonaughts who have learnt something important from this sacrament.

Exp Year: 2007	ExpID: 62339
Gender: Not Specified
Age at time of experience: Not Given
Published: Jun 19, 2007	Views: 19,186
[ View PDF (to print) ] [ View LaTeX (for geeks) ] [ Swap Dark/Light ]
DPT (21) : Small Group (2-9) (17), Train Wrecks & Trip Disasters (7)