Citation: Timeleech. "Not Prepared to Die: An Experience with 5-MeO-DMT (exp18894)". Erowid.org. Nov 15, 2002. erowid.org/exp/18894
Usually I'm all for proper preparation before a psychedelic experience, but this, this is unprepareable!
I got home from a night out on saturday. I'd only had two glasses of wine, it was 3 o'clock, and I felt bored. Sounds responsible, I know... Nevertheless, I carried out my plan, and with trembling fingers got the little bag out of the freezer. Having no scale to weigh out a dose, I did the only wrong thing: continuing with my plan... I poured a small amount onto some alu-foil, perhaps an amount slightly bigger than a match-head. I proceeded to my cushions on the floor, held the lighter in one hand, the foil with the 5MeO-DMT on it in the other, and a plastic tube in my mouth.
Deep breath. Light up. Quick evaporation, frantic chasing of the dragon; lungs almost filled. Put down the paraphernalia.
T+5sec: 'Hope I got enough'. I lay down.
T+20sec: 'I'd better breathe out'
T+21sec: 'Oh my, My arms are dissapearing, hope I got enough so that...
T+22sec: The rest of my body dissapears into this multifaceted, bright, mosaic light. It is the only thing registering at all. No other sensory input, except some sort of static, metallic humming in the back of someones head, somewhere down there, and at the same time, all around me. As for the light, it was not only percieved, not only being, but been. By 'me'.
T+23-60sec(?) and onwards: I get up, and standing in the middle of the room is the centre of the universe; me. Total transparency of everything. The white light is still with me, is still *me*. There is some confusion as there suddenly seems to be an ego in there somewhere, buried deep within the light. This particular ego is not overly thrilled to be obliterated in this abrupt fashion, and demands to get some info as to what the hell is going on! Only logical conclusion: It is dying, if not already dead. Result: One young primate body kneeling on the floor, clutching his head, uttering small mouth noices whith the intended meaning: 'Now youv'e done it! Now youv'e really done it! YOUV'E REALLY FUCKING DONE IT! THIS TIME!'
He rolls over onto his back, just waiting to feel his bodily functions to cease continuing, waiting for an unknown, uncertain blackness to engulf his consciousness.
This anticipated turn of events stubbornly resist undergoing the formality of actually happening though, remaining mere anxieties in a primate nervous system preparing for the final, big shutdown. Still, the spontaneous disintegration of the body into it's constituent atoms is puzzlingly refusing to happen on schedule. As is the total dissolution of the mind. Not that the mind hadn't come to a rather advanced state of dissolution already, but nevertheless, more of the same was excpected under the circumstances.
Thoughts of dissapointed parents finding their son lying on his kitchen floor, dead by overdose on some exotic drug, race through the singular mind. Thoughts about a wasted life follow right behind, as the mind experiences yet another oscillation from singularity, to all-encompassing dimensions. But then, after a few more revolutions of that circle, resignation seeps in, and buddhist teachings filter through all the confusion and despair. The internal dialogue re-initiates:
'If I'm really dead there's nothing much I can do about it now, so I'd better get some positive thoughts in here, quick!'. Delving even deeper into samsara did not hold much of an appeal, so resignation gave way to acceptance. Acceptance gave rise to doubt, and doubt, in turn, gave rise to curiosity as to what a dead person looks like to himself in the mirror...
Getting up from the kitchen floor, previously lying face down, arms along the body, I stumble into the bathroom. I look into the mirror, and see my previous face. Seems quite real, but at this point I would need a hell of a lot more than a mere reflection of light to convince me that I really exist. I walk out into my living-room again, contemplating how the hell I am going to manage living in this world in this utterly open, transparent, cosmic state of mind. I bang my head against the frame of my bead a few times in a gesture of futility. Finally resignation sets in, and I entertain the possibility of actually attaining normal human consciousness again, sometime in the uncertain future.
I sit down in my chair, and as sudden as a 18 wheeler hitting a moth in the night, as swift as a photon's journey from you hand to your eye, as gentle as a leaf falling from a tree in fall, as soft as velve, I was back. There was no transition whatsoever, and yet, it was the smoothes shift of perspective I could ever hope to experience. Things didn't look different, My state of mind wasn't altered at all, except for one small bit of knowledge: I was alive.
Oh joy of joys! Oh sweet nectar of existance! I AM ALIVE! Ecstatic (only now do I know the true meaning of this word) jumping up and down, euphoric little squeaky happy-noises escaped from my throat. I could not stop laughing. It was all I could do to jump up and down, hold my stomach, laugh, and manage to squeeze in the occasional 'YES! This is IT!'.
Total euphoria, total bliss. Total, overwhelming gratitude for being alive.
This would go on for 10 minutes straight. Any effort to calm myself down was futile. There was even a traitor of a thought suggesting to me, as I looked at myself in the mirror for the umteenth time, that I might have become totally bonkers. I would never stop laughing manically, I'd be diagnosed with schizophrenia, and locked up. I dismissed it, and it quickly wanished, embarrassed for ever even suggesting such a thing, questioning my sanity. Which anybody being there together with me doubtlessly would have done. I am glad I had no sitter.
Please ignore that comment if you ever plan on exposing the delicate balance of your brain chemistry to this substance. DO get a sitter! Nevertheless, I am still somewhat ambivalent to the idea of having another person around during the experience. It will probably alter the turn of events significantly. The kind guardian of your choice should probably most effectively and productively be hidden in an adjacent room to the one you will blast off into hyperspace. Psychic shrapnel and debree might be hazardous to any innocent bystanders.
After a while I was able to stop the compulsive giggling and actually gathering a coherent thought or two. Although their nature were mostly of the 'oh man, that was.. MAN!', and 'Wow, was that ever intense of WHAT?', 'This is, like IT!' kind, and other variations on the general theme of awe.
Keep in mind that this is a rendition in words of an experience that is utterly, totally, impossibly un-wordable. It was an extremely simple, straight-forward experience. In fact, it was so simple and straight-forward that it slips straight through any cognitive filters and attempts to memorize, visualize, or otherwise communicate it. It was, as others have said: Total obliteration of any context. Not entirely a whiteout, more of a whitein. Or rather, considering the lack of any boundaries to my mind whatsoever during the peak: Just a 'white'.
Words bring you only that far before they dissolve into utter meaninglessness. And thus I am stuck for a few wise & witty last words.
And I will always be, for words trying to describe this experience will always remain inane, the experience always ineffable.
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