Citation: Catalyst. "Divine Tryptamines: An Experience with DMT (exp51155)". Erowid.org. Mar 11, 2008. erowid.org/exp/51155
The setting took place at Schwagstock, a festival centering around a Grateful Dead cover band called the Schwag. I don’t even listen to the Dead, I go the festival for the people and the beautiful scenery. It was daytime, and a friend and I were walking around the camp ground, while I was tripping on four grams of mushrooms. I was already tripping for about 6 hours, and was coming down. The weather was fantastic. The light was playing with the trees and nearby pond, and I had a T-shirt and shorts, walking on dry dirt in sandals.
As we came closer to the campgrounds, I saw some guy at a tent nearby trying to peddle some molly to the owner of the tent. The owner seemed interested.
“Hey man, isn’t that the guy that sold you that bunk DMT?” said my friend, which sparked a memory like a match.
Lets rewind a bit. Last Schwagstock I was at, that same man really did sell me some DMT. He sold me a bag, and specifically told me to not smoke more than a third. Not listening to suggestions as usual, I smoked half and split the other half with a friend. Neither of us experienced anything that we read about except for a mild buzz.
I ran up to him, tapped the 35-year old looking fat druggie on the shoulder and said, right in the middle of his molly deal,
“Hey, thanks for selling me that bunk Deamsters!”
He flipped, the molly customer retrieved his money immediately.
“What the fuck are you trying to tell me, that my drugs are no good?”
“Considering they don’t work, yes”, I replied, gazing him straight in the eyes, following with the story of the null effect of the bag that he sold me some months prior.
The pale fat man immediately proceeded to pouring out the contents of an entire bag of DMT onto a pipe, and handing it to me.
“Yeah, smoke this”
I did, and told him that I felt same.
“Same? What the fuck? Probably ‘cause that pipe had Opium in it … Somebody give me a clean fucking pipe and some nugget”
Upon receiving the requested items, like a doctor, a street pharmacist, he poured in the contents of two bags on some grass and handed me the second pipe.
I took a hearty hit.
“Nothing? You mean you don’t feel any different?”
“Yeah, how do you feel?”
“Well, I definetly feel ‘different’ now”
An “I told you so” smirk appeared to be stretching across his face, but was shortly cut short when I said that “I can feel different by smoking banana peels, and it was probably due to the weed anyhow”.
“Alright man, I’ll fucking torch you!”
By this point, the fat man was getting nervous. He was chainsmoking like there’s no tomorrow. A pretty large crowd was gathering around us, curious on finding out the ending of this psychedelic tale, and his credibility was at stake. Everybody was staring at us, and the fat man, who now was sweating bullets.
“Here, you smoke this”, he said profusely, handing the bowl that I just smoked out of to some innocent bystander.
Without speaking a word, the bystander took a hit. In a split second, his pupils got as big as his face, a smile of confused happiness appeared, and he sat down, saying nothing but “Whoa…”
I appeared to have such strange immunity to the drug, but fat man already dug himself too deep into this scenario to just pull out with this cop-out.
He packed three bags of DMT onto a bowl of bud, and handed me a torch lighter, given out by a member of the audience. I sat down in a lawn chair, facing the setting sun.
I could feel something strong was about to come on. I inhaled and coughed out some smoke. Immediately, my vision became sharper than ever before. I could feel my facial muscles contract around my eye sockets.
“What?!! You feeeeeell soommmethinng now?!” The fat man’s words appeared to be flying away from his mouth, reverbing and echoing into the distance.
“Yeah, but you gave me 3000% of what you told me to smoke. This isn’t bunk, but you certainly do have skimpy bags.”
“Alrightttttt man! We’ll square it off to thaaat” he said, along with some other words that I wasn’t paying attention to, puffing on yet another cigarette.
“I’ll leave you to the experience”
I felt that my body was surging with energy but yet did not want to move a muscle. It’s like my state of mind was catapulted to the highest level of consciousness.
Time has appeared to be stopped at this point.
I looked around. Never in my life have I ever seen such defined beauty. Nature was so concise, so divine. I felt that I could move around from where I was sitting without getting up, meaning I could see closer to an object and zoom out, morph objects at will.
The setting sun was hidden behind a group of trees, and it appeared to have started splitting in half. It’s filaments were getting ripped apart like strings on a ball of yarn. The sun then proceeded to split into two more quadrants. A voice appeared to be coming out of the middle of the quadrants.
It didn’t speak in English, nor was it a voice in the traditional meaning of one. More like a collaboration of different sounds that my brain was dubbing over in English. The Entity that was making contact with me was making suggestions that it was the Holy Spirit, God itself.
“I am the Alpha and the Omega, the First and Last, and will show you the divine power of Creation. However, if I speak to you directly, you will cease to exist.”
I felt like an ant at this point. I was at the will of God, His creation, with my life being ended at any point if it was His wish to do so.
“Since I cannot speak to you, you will see Me in everything, since I am everything … I am the tree in front of you, NOW!”
As soon as “NOW” was pronounced, the tree burst into a glow. I felt that I could see through the Earth to uncover its roots. Its branches were fractal, the base of the trunk splitting into smaller and smaller branches and twigs into infinity. Everything was so perfect that I felt I was wasting all my life not realizing the power of nature.
A girl that was sitting next to me asked me the meaning of life at this point.
As soon as I looked at her, she looked away. In fact, it looked like she started shaking. I could see straight through her.
“You will know in your dream after next”, I retorted without pausing for a second, or looking away.
“Truly is the Spirit Molecule”, said the girl, referencing to the book.
I got up from my chair and walked away. I felt like I wasn’t even myself. I felt like I have gained Christ-consciousness, that I had no need for desires, that I had no age, no indulgences. I had obtained perfect form.
I felt that people at this point were flocking to me, waiting to hear and hanging on to every word I would say. I spoke in short sentences after staring at the person for some time, but did not waste one word spoken. Nothing was wasted, nothing was lost. I was transfigured.
For the next few hours, I was walking around with my friend who was with me at the festival. The immediate effect had worn off by this point, but I still did not feel normal. As I walked around, teenagers, vendors, veteran acid eaters of sorts would come up to me and start conversations like I was some celebrity, a psychedelic guru that could shed light on anything they had to say.
When I walked over to a glass stand, some man asked me if I wanted to buy a pipe.
“I would, but you know, I’m pretty short on the flow”, I said.
“Oh, I see. Still want a pipe though?”
“Sure. Why don’t you buy me one?”
“Um, what kind of colors do you like? You like orange?”
“Orange is good”
Then the man proceeded to buy me a $42 pipe. I’ve never met this man before in my life.
That night, I was truly treated as a special guest.
Half a year later, I still feel like I haven’t come down from that trip. My friend later on told me that for that night, he felt that I became Gabriel, one of the three Archangels.
Every traveler of the subconscious should try Dimethyltryptamine once in their life, it is the only way to see.
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