1:55
Over the past month I have been experimenting with DMT several times a week, with ever increasing dosages. Two nights previous, I had vaporized 39 mg, and landed in the same familiar space of repeating and bending fractal patterns, accompanied by the same predictable entities that I have grown comfortable with. They are very human-like but seem to come from a different plane of existence, a place of judgement, somewhere familiar but far beyond. Each time I trip I begin to hear voices as I take the second hit. They say something along the lines of, “uh-oh I wouldn’t have done that, I’ve seen someone do that once, I wouldn’t have done that”, except it’s sped up so fast that it sounds like a high pitch squeal, almost like a voice recording on fast-forward. After that the voices begin to repeat a mantra that has been persistent over the past few trips. A female says, “you are awesome, this is awesome, this is good for you and you are lucky, but you are not, and it is not and nobody can know”. I can’t be sure of the exact wording as the message is very cryptic. I can listen and understand the overall meaning and occasionally pick out specific words, but I cannot repeat the sentence to myself even as I am hearing it. Except for, “you are awesome”.
Last night was a different story altogether. That morning I had cleaned my GVG for the first time since buying it. It was crystal clear and the blackened copper mesh was replaced with a stainless-steel vapor genie liquid pad. 25 mg was melted into the pad and I pushed it snug against the top lip of the pipe. I made myself comfortable on my bed, with my back propped up by a pile of pillows, and the lights lowered to a dim glow. I took several deep breaths, exhaled as hard as I could, clicked my jet lighter on and took the hit. The efficiency of the vapor pad and clean pipe startled me. After a brief pull with the ceramic glowing red, a stream of opaque vapor appeared and then vanished a second or two later. I closed my eyes and counted back from twenty. I counted down to ten successfully but felt a wash of confusion setting in and I knew I wouldn’t make it to zero. I decided to forego the counting and just hold my breath indefinitely.
I managed to black out briefly and the feeling of my involuntary exhalation brought me back. I looked around the room. My salmon colored shirt was now checkered black and white and the room looked like a crude pastel drawing—I closed my eyes. The familiar female voice greeted me with the same mantra, but this time there was someone else. This new entity was male and I could sense that he strongly disapproved of my having come back but was also genuinely concerned for my safety. “Now you’ve done it, you’ve messed it all up. I told you not to come back.”, the female voice chimed in, repeating, “these things have consequences you know, you really fucked up, I don’t think we can fix this.” As they repeated themselves again and again a sinister red and grey fractal made up of thousands of facets, each identical and folding inward projected across my vision. The repetition lulled me into a deep trance like the moment before falling asleep.
Suddenly, I awakened from this trance with a surge of adrenaline. I knew that I was a person and that I had smoked DMT but I couldn’t put my finger on when. Was this the first time? Was I still tripping from a week ago, a month ago? Who precisely am I and how the hell did I get here? I had no working memory, no ability to reference my position in time and therefore no ability to feel time period. I was trapped in an infinite second. I knew that DMT was short acting, but I also remember people claiming to have been gone for an eternity. Those claims sewed a seed of doubt in my psyche and it became clear that I was trapped in a hyper-dimensional glitch of my own making. I was facing the consequences and they were real. The fact that DMT only lasts for a few minutes was not important, those few minutes were to be my eternity.
It then came to me that I could open my eyes. Surely seeing my place and feeling the comfort of something familiar would guide me back. I was wrong. My entire apartment was part of the glitch. Several planes of reality had collided and fused together in some terrible accident. Objects were phasing in and out of existence and nothing was as it seemed. My fish tank, had been divided into perfect 3 inch cubes of 3D space which had rearranged themselves randomly. I walked into the kitchen to check the time, perhaps if I could see the minutes change it would prove that time was moving and I would be free. The red numbers of the digital clock read 155, or was it ISS? What did it mean anyway? This was not helping. "WALK, BREATHE. WALK, BREATHE", I said to myself. You are being tested, you need to find your way out of this. I reasoned that pacing back and forth across my apartment would take a substantial amount of time if I did it for long enough. The clock should have changed by now. I walked back into the kitchen and saw the numbers, "153".Or was it 15H? No, no this isn't right, what is happening? Is this just a trip? It can't be. I need to find my phone and explain what I'm going through to my fiance. As I looked for my phone the voices taunted me, "If you try to contact anyone with that phone, your fate will be sealed. There will be no coming back". I found my phone on my bed and held it in my hand wondering what to do next. If I call her like this and she picks up, what will I say to her? What if she doesn't answer at all? What if she answers and I can tell that it isn't really her. What if one of them answers? At that moment I felt the effects of the drug taper down one tiny degree of intensity.. I knew it was ending and that it was only a matter of time now. I was free.
Logically, I know that I let my imagination run wild under the influence of a massively potent psychedelic whose effects no one really understands. However, I know that the things I felt should not be possible to feel. I will never be rid of this memory. Oh well!