Ok. So here it goes. For starters i am a pretty experienced tripper and although this was the first time it had happened i have smoked Dmt many times. Most times when i smoke my trips consist of patterns, colors and shapes. Now this perticular experience im writing about occured on just an average day at a friends house. I packed myself a bowl, as did my friend and we took a few blasts. Now i took the first hit and passed him the bowl after. I went into my typical dmt ritual. Eyes closed sitting on the couch ect. My trip this time was a weird one. I ended up in what appeared to be a park area benches trees the whole nine yards. Now i was staring at my unconsious self laying on the grass. Surrounding me were these entities, they appeared to physically look human although they were only shillohettes consisting on vivid colors and shapes within there outline, they seemed particuallary interested in me and although i tried to speak to them they did not respond. After this time, which felt alot longer then my most common hyperspace trips i came to. Since then iv had several opinions on the situation but am confused as to what happened. What i think went on was that i was transported to a different dimension and these were multi dimensional beings i was seeing. My thoughts that they most likely werent sillohettes but my mind made them into something i could comprehend.. Any insight would be cool and greatly appreciated..

Hey OP! As I was reading your report and your mention of the park, I was reminded of this excerpt from a book by Robert Monroe called 'Ultimate Journeys'. In case you weren't aware, Robert Monroe was an expert at out-of-body explorations. Whether or not this is what you experienced is only for your to decide but it sounds a lot like Bob's experience with the following:

The description of the Park on Focus 27 by R.Monroe, p. 237-242 "Ultimate Journey" :

"...He must have seen the shock on my face as the wave of memory flowed into me. The Park! Years ago, I had arrived at the Park. But how or why I got there I could not recall. There had been a welcoming group of ten or twelve men and women, who greeted me warmly and explained where I was. It was a place to calm down in after the trauma of physical death—a way station, for relaxation and decision as to what to do next. The Park! ...I went outside, turned left, and there indeed was a woods with tall trees, most of them familiar to me. A path led through an opening, and I followed it. Although I was eager to hurry, I decided to remain walking. The feel of the leaves and grass against the soles of my feet was much too good. My feet were bare! As I walked on, a gentle breeze touched my head and chest. I could feel! Just as with my bare feet, I could feel. I passed oaks, poplars, hickories, sycamores, chestnuts, pines, and cedars, even an incongruous palm tree, and trees I never knew existed. The scent of the blooms mixed with that of rich loam was wonderful. I could smell! And the birds—about half of them were species I had never seen before! They were singing, chirping, calling, flying from tree to tree and sweeping across my path. Hundreds of them. And I could hear! I walked more slowly in wonderment. My hand—yes, my physical hand again—reached out and plucked a leaf from the low branch of a maple. It felt alive and flexible. I put it in my mouth and chewed. It was moist, and tasted exactly like the maple leaves of my childhood. Suddenly I knew what had happened—what was probably still taking place. This was a human creation! Many of those who walked this path created and added their own favorite bird or tree to the woods. They were alive—living creations, created by humans'. They were not the standard reproductive mode followed in the Earth Life System, which is really not human-created but the idea and plan of Someone else. And all the rest of it behind me in my search was the same, the product of a human mind-consciousness. The medical haven, Agnew's rigging, my father's recuperation room, and Charlie's cabin by the ocean. Charlie, I remembered, had even demonstrated how he put it together! All human creation! The Basic! I know of the existence of our Creator, but are all of us really creators out of the same mold? Is my Core Self I accepted so casually a minuscule (tiny) replica or clone of the Original? How far can we take this only partially expressed idea?

As if to prove the point of reality, a large orange parrot flew over my shoulder, chirped, and released a white dropping in my hand as he passed. I laughed as I tested the warm consistency of it between thumb and forefinger. It was certainly real! I walked on, wondering how many human-created animal friends were in the woods, when I came to a bend in the path and the trees ended. Before me was the Park. It was the same as when I had visited many years ago, with winding walks, benches, flowers and shrubbery, different-colored grass lawns, clusters of stately trees, small streams and fountains, and with a warm sun overhead among small cumulus clouds. The Park continued on a gently rolling terrain as far as I could see. As I walked down the slope to the nearest bench, I wondered what human mind or group of humans put this together. It was a magnificent creation for a lowly (humble, modest) human. Yet I knew this was the way it had come into existence. But I had not thought of such things on my previous visit those years ago. Now I remembered—I knew—why it was here. A woman rose from the bench as I approached. She was of medium height, slender, with large brown eyes and dark brown, slightly wavy hair down to her shoulders. Her face was smooth and lightly tanned, with features that seemed tohave touches of the Orient, the Middle East, and Europe. She was wearing dark slacks and a hip-length jacket. Her age might be anything between thirty-five and fifty. She was familiar— I had met her somewhere before. She smiled and held out her hand.

"At last you are here! "Welcome back, Ashaneen."

Ashaneen—my name, remembered from another lifetime. It told me a lot about her. I took her hand, which was real enough to feel. She led me to the bench and we sat down. Other people strolled by, all of them adults, wearing a variety of clothing. Some glanced curiously at us . . . I wondered why, until I realized there was a subtle difference they could perceive between my appearance and theirs.

I caught the woman's eye and she smiled again. A half-memory floated in.

"This jacket you're wearing . . ."

"I was wearing it last time you were here. I thought it might help you to remember."

I nodded, but my memory was hazy. She was among the dozen people I met last time, that I was sure of.
I looked at her and saw that she was smiling. Could she read my thoughts?

"Yes, of course I can. And you can read mine."

"Who are you?"

"I am only the messenger. I am to tell you that you may by all means bring people to us, those who are newly physically dead. We will take care of them. That is why we are here. And you may teach others to do this."

"How can I teach something that will seem so strange?"

"We are sure you can. Many of them are probably doing it now. All you need to do is help them remember.
It is a wholly objective way to remove the fear of physical death."

"And let them know they do survive the death process."

"Certainly."

"Also it would help them become aware of the many options they have."

"There are many even you have not considered, Ashaneen. Or would you prefer we call you Robert?"

"Robert or Bob, please. My physical friends call me Bob. The name Ashaneen might trouble them."

"Some may know you by the old name."

"I am becoming aware of that. And I'm trying to recall your name. You are . . . the wife of . . . Ileon—yes, Ileon!"

"Mate is a better word."

"You are . . . Nevisse."

"Good."

"Now, I need some help. The places I have visited, where my friends were—they are simply extensions of here, are
they?"

"That is so. But if they have a strong belief, they will follow that directive and go where that belief leads them. There will be others of the same belief waiting to help them. You let them go and leave them alone. That is where they belong."

"But all this . . . this is not just another belief, is it?"

Nevisse laughed. "Not in the usual sense. There are no beliefs involved, only experience. The design here is only to provide a familiar surrounding to ease the anxiety."

"This place (the park), then . . . ?"

"Is a creation that is here and will be here whatever your beliefs. It will not disappear if you don't believe it exists."

"Who made it?"

"A human civilization many thousands of years ago. They have been gone long since. Is there anything more you need to know?"

"What about those who simply want—or need—to return to what I have called their I-There? I'm sure you understand what I mean."

"I do. That is the destination of most who depart from here."

"So, when we bring people here, you calm them down and give them the opportunity to consider what they want to do next."

"That is so. We show them what opportunities do exist. The Park is but a starting point. You will be astounded when you see all of the little individual places that residents have created."

"Are there rules?"

"Only one. No imposition of one will upon another."

"Thank you for your help. I have much to do, it seems."

"You will find it easier than you think, Bob."

"This knowledge . . . of here, of where to go at death . . . where to meet . . . this knowledge before the event . . . it gives ultimate freedom!"

"It does. I see you are receiving a signal to return."

"Yes . . . There is so much more to learn here . . . But I must go. I have one more question . . ."

"No need to ask. The creative processes whose results you have observed are already known to us as human. And your father did construct his own room."

"There was no need to ask. Ta na sen!"

"You have remembered. A goodbye phrase from one hundred thousand years ago. Ta na sen!"

- end excerpt -

Food for thought