Citation: Gr4nter. "A Harrowing Experience: An Experience with DPT (exp104735)". Erowid.org. Dec 29, 2015. erowid.org/exp/104735
||(powder / crystals)
After doing a bit of research on the surprisingly diverse family of tryptamine analogues and reading Shulgin's TiHKAL entry, Dipropyltryptamine, or DPT, caught my interest as being an incredibly potent and powerful psychedelic. Having had quite a bit of experience with psychedelics (LSD, Psilocybin, 2C-B, along with other 2C-x compounds, DMT, and many more) I decided to acquire a small amount of a fluffly off-white powder that was labelled 200mg of DPT HCl a few weeks later. The little baggy sat in my collection for months while I postponed taking the material, waiting for the perfect setting. Throughout those months I accumulated a thorough knowledge base of DPT, reading trip reports as well as information on wikipedia and anywhere else I could scavenge. I found that many people describe the DPT experience as being very overwhelming, and usually a rather dysphoric and sinister trip. One user described it as 'snorting a line of haunted houses'. I shrugged off most of these experiences as being a usual bad trip; they probably didn't have the right mindset, anyway. Boy, was I ignorant.
Come a cool, Saturday evening with a couple of my friends (we'll call them John and Felix) as well as my brother, whom we shall call Brandon. Tonight was undoubtedly the opportune night to embark upon an extra-sensory journey, and I knew precisely what I was going to use for such a journey. I weighed out 30mg of DPT (most trip reports use around 50+mg, but I have a naturally low tolerance to tryptamines), made a small line out of the material, promptly insufflating it. The burn wasn't bad at all, not nearly as bad as I'd expected. And albeit the drip was fairly uncomfortable and bitter tasting, it was definitely manageable. After insufflating the DPT, I walked downstairs to engage with my friends in conversation.
Roughly five minutes pass and I notice that I'm already at a possible plus-minus, perhaps even a light plus one. Strange. A slight feeling of intoxication is noticeable, as my vision becomes tunneled and my perception of depth becomes a bit more difficult to distinguish. After around the 15 minute mark, the effects began to climb exponentially. As I walked around my house, I almost felt as if my vision was bobbing and rotating, which was a bit disorienting, but I was still having a good time. DPT was nice, I liked it. The comeup was sharp but it was still quite nice. It was, at this point, almost reminiscent of my recent LSD experiences. The visuals were astounding. I could definitely get used to this.
Around the (T + 0:17) mark was when things began to take a rather interesting turn. Whilst listening to my friends talk to one another, it felt like I was zoning out, almost unable to listen to their conversations. When this occurred, it seemed as if their conversation took an extremely morbid turn. It sounded like they were plotting something against me; their laughs became more meniacal and their voices sounded sinister. This was definitely unsettling, but I shrugged it aside as just a freak occurrence; people said DPT was a bit ominous afterall. After about 5 minutes elapse after this, I realize I am at a very strong plus two, perhaps even the beginning of a plus three. Well this is odd. I snorted the stuff not 25 minutes ago. How I could I be tripping this hard? Maybe I'm about to peak because I snorted it, and the onset is much more rapid. I decided to sit down in my family room on the couch. This is when it all hit me at once. I realized that the headspace I was in was not welcoming at all. My body, nor my mind, did not enjoy DPT one bit. They both wanted out. I began to relax my muscles a bit as I realized I was tense, getting hot flashes, yet shivering, as my heart was beating rapidly. The bodyload began to unfold onto itself and it felt like my body was tearing at the seams. I couldn't sit still, and I began to feel like I was swelling up to a point of bursting. My thoughts began looping at an overwhelmingly fast rate, thinking that I must have been somehow poisoned and that I was going to die. While my mental integrity was having a meltdown, I managed to keep my physical self calm and cool. I nonchalantly summoned my friend Felix over to me, and explained to him that the DPT was quite powerful and interesting, coming on pretty strong. I knew I was bullshitting every word that came out of my mouth, but a part of me wanted to keep the idea that I'm having a bad time away from, in a way, not only my friends, but myself as well. I feed off of optimism, especially during psychedelic experiences. I can make myself think that I'm not having a bad time, even though every other layer of my mind except for my principal level of thinking is telling me otherwise.
Once Brandon and John returned upstairs to play Xbox, I sat with Felix for a bit and discussed the trip. Very subtly, I told him that the experience thus far has proven to be quite overwhelming. I've gone through difficult experiences before numerous times; I know what I need to do. I'm familliar with the mind-trickery that has to be put into play to reduce the negativity of psychedelic experiences. Once again, I realized that my muscles were tense and that I was having a war with my own mind at some abstract level of consciousness. Once this realization popped into my head, I decided that I needed to claim defeat over this drug. Fighting it is only going to make it worse. I loosened my muscles and slowly began to let go. It's difficult to explain what letting go even means; it's almost as if I am unconsciously (or perhaps consciously) attempting to fight off the drug, in a futile attempt to gain a level of sobriety again, a level of familliar headspace, and in one instant I just.. give up. I stop stressing. I let go. In my mind I repeated 'Okay. I give up. Take me; I'm yours now.' and soon the bodyload began to dissipate and my thinking patterns began to take a more lucid diction. If I were to let go on, say, 2C-B or AL-LAD (some of my favorite psychedelics), the calm, yet energetic euphoria of the drug would gently prevail once again, and I would feel instant relief. This feeling, for DPT, lasted approximately 2 seconds.
In an instant once more I felt the intimidatingly sinister attitude of DPT for what it really was, whether I was going to fight it off or not. It practically grabbed me by the throat and slammed me with the worst bodyload I've ever felt. I've had uncomfortable tactile sensations on psychedelics before, but most of the time they are practically negligible if you focus your attention on to something else. This was physically painful; my bones felt like they were cracking and my muscles tearing. Suffice to say, it hurt like hell. Never have I felt in pain from a psychedelic before; of course it was mental, but I could not get my focus off of it. I needed to get up and walk around, anything to keep my mind off of this horrid feeling, but more importantly to keep my sanity intact. At this point I told Felix he could go upstairs; I needed some time alone. I got up off the couch and laid flat on my back on the floor. After a few minutes my girlfriend messaged me, asking what I was doing. I told her that I took the DPT, and was currently 'waging a war with my mind' and that I would message her later. Around the (T + 0:30) mark I decided it was time to go upstairs and reunite with my friends. When I entered the room, I immediately felt a calm and warm prescence as they were all huddled around the TV on the couch, playing Xbox. However, this feeling did not last very long. After about 10 minutes of vain attempts to settle in and let the DPT take its course, I decided I needed to get outside. I was getting some intense hot flashes anyway; some cool air would probably do me good. Felix grabbed a few cigars and we headed out.
It was around the (T + 0:45) mark when we first stepped outside. Immediately I felt appalled; this is no different than the inside world. In fact, it was worse. I no longer felt even the sheerest inkling of comfort that I did in my own home. The outside world was petrifying. It was confusing. Things aren't making any sense anymore. I'm peaking. My thought patterns began to get more and more schizophrenic, but a part of me just wanted to press on. So I did. We walked down my dark, vacant street (I live in a rather rural area), and things began to really press in. As if the trip couldn't get any more intense. This was mad. The headspace would be comparable to a 400+ mike LSD trip. Walking down the street, I began to realize for brief moments I had absolutely no idea who I was, where I was, where I was going, who this person walking next to me was, or why any of this was happening. I have lost touch with reality. If, before, I was hanging onto reality, or even sanity, by a thread, it is now gone. This persisted for a great while until at one point I swear I was stuck in that level of thinking for a good three or four minutes. I am experiencing psychosis. Of course I didn't think of this when I was under the influence, but I realize now.
Still, I continued to march forward. Felix was casually smoking his cigar while talking about some sort of abstract philosophy (My short-term memory was shot). But at this point I felt almost as if I walked in to a room where a movie was playing on a television, the movie being this point in reality, and the scene being me and Felix walking down the street. I had no idea who the two characters were or what they were doing, why they were walking down a dark street, or what the plot was. This feeling was eerie and confounding, but at the same time it was, admittedly, quite profound. Before we reached the end of the street, I noticed a large white ball of light moving closer and closer to us. It began to make a very unsettling sound as it vibrated towards us. Right as it flew past us like a bullet, I realized that attached to the light was a massive piece of machinery with an unfathomable amount of complexity, inside and out. It pulsated and rippled my vision as I turned my head around to catch a glimpse of what this object was. It was a truck.
Once we arrived back inside we immediately made our way back upstairs, and I decided to spend some quality time with my mind and DPT in my bedroom. I closed the door behind me as darkness flooded the small box-shaped room, and I quickly laid down on my bed and put on some headphones. At this time it was exactly 9:33 PM. I closed my eyes and slowly listened to the soothingly chilled music playlist I picked. The music began to reverberate and seem to speed up and slow down at alarming rates, and before I could realize it, it began to sound incredibly dark and depressing. Soon it began to be physically painful, feeling like knives jabbing my ears as every beat struck. Then the worst happened: The entities began to present themselves. Immediately I felt like I was suffocating, as millions of small bugs and creatures were crawling all over me, laughing and mocking me. My ego was completely shattered at this point, but not only was it shattered, it was ripped to shreds, piece by piece. The entities showed me all my faults in my personality, tantalizing and picking on me. Soon they had enough of me, and they began to migrate towards my friends. In my mind I saw my friend Felix. They singled him out. They began to tear apart his personality piece by piece, showing me the entire emotional spectrum of Felix; all of the shit that he has to go through, and the reason he is the way he is. This repeated numerous times with numerous important figures in my life, including my brother, family, and other friends. Never have I felt so much empathy for the people who are important to me in my life. At that moment I began to cry. About what seemed like 45 minutes later I slowly opened my eyes, adjusting my vision to the neon green light off to the side of my vision. It was my digital clock. 9:35 PM. Fuck. The bodyload is now back, and my emotions were flushed away from me as all my attention was brought back to my body. I need to get up. It's beginning to hurt in this bed.
I slowly made my way back into the room where my friends were still playing Xbox. Felix had joined them when we got back. I was still peaking. When is this going to end? I need this to end now; I can't keep this up any longer. I quickly, yet calmly told my friends that I was having an awful experience with DPT, and I could not handle its effects for much longer. It was practically impossible to articulate words, but I somehow spewed out that I needed to get some Alprazolam to flatline this trip. My brother called our friend Nate who we know has Xanax, and soon enough my brother and John were off to go get the last milligram of Xanax he had on him. Thank God and all the little gods. Now I just have to press through until they return home with the sacred benzodiazepine. Felix stayed with me, and we talked briefly about the effects of the drug. I began pacing the room manically; time dilation was hitting me hard, once again. This is going to take yet another century. After I came to the conclusion that pacing the room was getting me nowhere, I decided it was time to go back outside to get some fresh air. Felix and I hastily made our way to the patio behind my house, where I sat on the bench with him placed in the corner, and once again let the effects of DPT flush over me in waves. The visuals at this point were incredible; I wish I could revisit them in a sober state of mind so I can actually appreciate them.
After about 15 minutes sitting on the eternal bench, I slowly began to realize that the army men in my mind were retreating. The war is coming to an end. The bodyload has practically dissipated. The peak is ending. Instantly I was flooded with happiness and relief, emotions I was finally able to feel once again. I'm coming down. It was over. As John and Brandon returned with the four tiny pills of Xanax, I laughed uncontrollably at their arrival. 'You're not gonna need that Xanax anymore, are you?' 'Nah'.
All in all my DPT experience was something of a profundity I am still not quite sure of. I am still attempting to adapt into these new emotions that brought forth from this new, strange experience. The trip was completely and utterly devastating, and I still feel slightly unstable from it. It's going to take some time to recollect my thoughts, but this report has invariably helped. Do I blame DPT for giving me such an awful experience? Not necessarily. A large part of it undoubtedly had to do with myself and my personal chemistry. Will I ever take DPT again? Probably not. But who knows. As for now, I'm staying away from all drugs for a little while, to help aid in the return of my mental integrity.
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