My girlfriend had this mad desire to smoke changa the other night so I indulged her. She said she had something to "ask them" — I quickly told her than in my experience it never works that way, they have things to tell us but we cannot solicit them with questions. But she had her mind made up, so I gave her a relatively small hit of changa.
She didn't get as high as she wanted and insisted on another bowl. Same thing happened; the "goombahs" (her name for the "elves" ala T. McKenna) were not cooperating with her, and she thought that a larger hit would force the issue. I tried, and still she was unsatisfied.
Call me cruel, but I wanted to cure her of this insane cycle, so I packed a bowl to shut her up and bring this affair to an end.
A "changa sandwich" has layer of changa, pure NN-DMT (~30mg), and another layer of changa. The combined DMT alone in the hit, all things considered, must have been >80mg. I only put so much in knowing that she couldn't finish it all.
I showed her what was in the bowl and explained quite frankly I would be all-but-terrified to smoke that much. She took as much as she could with one hit and laid back, and was clearly no longer on planet earth. The bowl, still burning, needed to be finished. So rather than wasting it I finished her leftovers, which was quite a hit in itself. This report is that hit, the inhalation of the "dregs."
The room started to buzz and hum with that cosmic vibration, perhaps louder than I've ever experienced it. As it was starting to shake reality apart, I thought (as I often do) "Wow this is a big hit but won't be a breakthrough." That's usually the last thought that passed through my mind when I breakthrough.
I laid back and was whisked away to a special place that I go, what I call the "Alien Office Complex." It's a maze of hallways, elevators, windows, doors, with entities flying about apparently too busy to pay me much mind.
But this time it was different. I somehow found the fire-exit to the office complex! Ejected onto the streets (for lack of a better word) I saw them flying this way and that, with perfect mathematical regularity. Mostly they would follow the two dimensional grid of their city layout, but something they would suddenly moving up, or sideways, or in some indescribable direction. The sky was dome-shaped and reminded me of a computer motherboard, lit up in electric day-glow colors.
There was a quickly moving processions of aliens who apparently have an agenda that I was not part of. None of them stopped to interact with me, I was like a homeless man on the streets of their city, slack-jawed in amazement, and they all had someplace to be.
Of course all of these words, "city", "aliens", "office complex", these are just weak metaphors that I use were words fail me. I'm not sure what it meant, but it certainly was a gobsmacking experience. And that was the *leftover* hit.
If you are curious: My girlfriend, on a far larger dose than me, was still out-of-her-body by the time I came back. As she came out of it she started to cry. A combination of tears of joy, and also of frustration that she couldn't bring back all of the splendors that were shown to her. She explained that she experienced
satori, although as a good Catholic she would not use that word, she said: "I intuitively saw the oneness in everything."
She never did get the answer to her question but said she received something far more important, that put her question in perspective.
Well, that was that. The pipe goes back on the shelf.
I contradict myself? Very well, I contradict myself. I am large. I contain multitudes. — Walt Whitman