DOSE:

repeated

smoked

DMT

BODY WEIGHT:

170 lb

---Mindset---

“Good job, everyone, you’ve all performed”.

“Though cracks and stains
appear on my wall
no reason I deign
to think myself small”.

“That’s the spirit”.

…

A nightmare I see us drifting toward as if by design, destiny, fate. Mere performance rewarded regardless of quality. I see it all and yet I cannot help but mount the wave. Once, I thought myself higher than the squawking mass of the stupid, the lame, that crowd, that faceless, immoral mover.

But, perhaps, I’m not so utterly dejected yet. I am special, oh yes.

Control. Isn’t that the human measure of greatness?

Even in performing my special activity, am I more special than those that share in my special activity. And my specialty is that of control. I write this, not to brag of my singularity, but to merely elucidate something that’s been working around my brain. That working? Even in our times of greatest ego, we still associate.

Consider, dimethyltryptamine, DMT, so called, by some, the pinnacle of the mountain a psychonaut climbs. A cave at the pinnacle of exploding, pulsating, dancing, coloring, dripping, alien, reptilian, kaleidoscopic, vision world. However, not for all. Some control it, smoke, in breaths of practice, the DMT crystals, but do not allow themselves to enter the cave. But, rather, stand at the entrance viewing the outer world by moving the rock that seals the cave, letting the noetic lightning of McKenna out into the world. The man of this control imagines himself an Aztec warrior, conqueror of his mind and all that might dare assail it.

But this same man who prides himself on control, how have his attempts at the sale of this substance gone? Amazing, unique, in control, but where does all the DMT go without putting money in his pocket? It becomes like a booster, an illusion. The control, which he displays so well inhaling, he does not, by the same token, enlist to make a profit. He rationalizes he’s not trying. Surely, if he did, he would have no problem making enough to procure the supplies for further DMT extraction.

Oh, the extraction. Surely, his prowess, his control, his uniqueness shows there. When the uninitiated are shown his process, how they seem to awe in his audacity, his ability. Here, he is applying chemistry in his kitchen, at his leisure, for pleasure. What need is there to tell them the only calculation he did was to figure out how much vinegar will neutralize his lye solution? Yes, lye, though never “his pain”. And, due to his prowess, goggles and rubber gloves not required. But he learned his process through the trials and errors of others. The knowledge of how much lye, how much distilled water, how much mimosa hostilis inner root bark powder, how much naptha, how to wash with ammonia. This knowledge, he received from guides, not of his own ingenuity.

But ego are fragile, nonetheless, and he must sooth his with thoughts that he was capable had the knowledge not been provided for him. Oh, unique, he was, but ever so rarely in the ways he desired. His DMT, his pot, his reading, his thinking. How very hard it was for him to convey his understanding to others. Trapped, was he, in his mind, forever resigned to his secondary Machiavellian intelligence. How he longed for the day that his intellectual pursuits might reward him with the abilities other greats seemed to attain with such seeming effortlessness. Even as he writes this, does he attempt to disguise himself, hide what he is under cover of the third person. Coward!

Why must I be this way?

---Reflection and Method---

I do not subscribe to the notion that there is an ethereal spiritual DMT realm. My experience with DMT covers about a year, from first hearing about the drug to first experience to the recent past. I know I’ve smoked it at least 50 times, but I lost count months ago. I’ve found that the DMT experience is very responsive to my mood. If I’m feeling good, it’s glorious or at least enjoyable. If I’m feeling bad, it’s scary. For the longest time, I could not break through, no matter what method of smoking I tried, but through experience, I learned the most effective way for me.

In the beginning, I fashioned a device from a socket, of a socket wrench, and kitchen faucet screen, by stuffing the screen into the middle of the socket, like a sort of chillum. At one end, the DMT would be sandwiched between tobacco, preferably menthol, at first, and later marijuana. This, I did, because I’d read that the DMT vapors tend to escape into waste. Contrary to this bit of wisdom, the drug, for me, was most wasted by this method, as the addition of the other substances greatly increased the harshness of the hits. However, the drug felt most organic by this method. Most of my experience by this method was closed eye and could not be conveyed well with words, but if one imagines the work of Alex Grey in which there is a tunnel of red faces and, then, imagines that work as a room without the faces, one will be imagining the best approximation I can provide of my that experience. Entities were largely missing from these experiences. Music through headphones was the most common outside stimulus. Doses were, at first, weighed to 60 milligrams, however, later, were simply eye-balled, with the cessation of smoking, especially by later methods, occurring by feel rather than strictly by emptying the device.

Later, a vaporizer was purchased and the DMT was smoked by itself. By this method, the strong chemical taste was at it’s strongest. Here, the hits were easier to take, but left the mind feeling much more abused during and after the trip, sometimes, even causing mild headaches. I’m not sure what brought this feeling about, but I’m fairly certain it had nothing to do with the purity, as the final method enlisted the use of DMT of questionable purity as well. Experiences with the vaporizer were largely open-eyed. In fact, I cannot remember one notable closed-eye experience using the vaporizer. The world, viewed under the influence of DMT by this method, seemed almost “cartoony”. By this method, movies and television were largely enjoyed. A feeling of viewing behind the curtain was enjoyed. Trees blowing in the wind seemed to be many running, dancing creatures.

The final method was the one I probably would have employed first, however unsuccessful, had I not listened to others. With the sockets lost, the vaporizer broken, by my brother, I should like to add, tobacco forsaken, and marijuana stores empty, I had no choice but to smoke the DMT in my pipe with a screen placed at the bottom of the bowl. By this method, I experienced the most downer trips, but also experienced my more glorious experiences, most of which were open-eyed.

It was by this method that beings started to appear with ever increasing frequency. Ape-man faces appeared in piles of laundry. Faces reminiscent of the boss in Kirby’s Dreamland 2 appeared lining the bark of trees. A Mayanescque face appeared to emerge from the wall of my bathroom. Experiences were, as one might have guessed, open-eye, but more notably, were active. I walked in the forest while smoking, stood in front of the mirror or sat on the toilet, defecating, drove while coming down. It was with this method that I gained greatest control of my actions while under the influence. Yes, method seems to influence experience, at least for me. However, it was also by this method that my experiences began to take a more sinister aspect. The grain of wooden doors appeared malicious. People or entities appeared for instants in my peripheral vision and I feared what they were doing hiding over there. I’ve two scars inflicted upon myself from this period, one a burn and the other a cut. This was “my pain” in the sense that lye was Jack’s pain.

As well as these methods, I’ve tried mimohuasca twice. The experience was quite similar to an acid trip for me. I’ve also smoked DMT while already under the influence of 11.2 grams of heavenly blue morning glory seeds and marijuana. I do not remember much what this experience was like aside from the fact that it was enjoyable, longer lasting than any other DMT inhalation, and I probably watched Dexter. These were near the beginning of my DMT year.

For now, I’ve put my DMT use to a halt, but there are still unresolved issues that I will eventually need to resolve.

Exp Year: 2008	ExpID: 74170
Gender: Male
Age at time of experience: Not Given
Published: Nov 6, 2009	Views: 10,027
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DMT (18) : Retrospective / Summary (11), Not Applicable (38)