Citation: JeffTilDeath. "Everything Is Going To Be Alright: An Experience with 5-MeO-DMT (exp57828)". Erowid.org. Jan 5, 2007. erowid.org/exp/57828
||(powder / crystals)
Reported Dose: 8-25mg, until I got one good hit.
After having heard Joe Rogan's rant about 5-meo-dmt on Jim Breuer's radio show, I decided I had to acquire some.
I got my hands on a gram and fearfully sat on it for 3 months. I decided to take the plunge on December 1, 2006, the one year anniversary of my first Salvia experience (which changed my life completely).
Around 7pm I carefully weighed out 8mg of 5-methoxy-dimethyltryptamine. My milligram scale tends to fall a milligram or two one way or the other, sometimes completely failing to register if I drop a few milligrams on an empty scale. In light of this, I decided to weigh my 10g calibration weight and then add 8mg to whatever it registered as. My 10g weight registered 10.002g. I dropped two tiny little clumps of compound on the scale and it jumped right to 10.010g.
It must be my lucky day.
I had decided on two trip sitters: Otis Delight, whom I've known for almost 15 years and although I trust him greatly, is not the type to remain calm in a tense situation, and Kim, a girl I've been laying around with for the past few month whom I trust less than I do Otis, but know will be able to keep a level head should things crumble toward the negative.
At about 8:45pm I loaded the pipe with the 8mg of compound. I had read that 5-meo-dmt is difficult to smoke because it liquifies and drips into the pipe, making it difficult to actually smoke everything that you had just vaporized. In consideration of it's questionable smokability, I decided to try smoking it out of a glass crackpipe a friend of mine had gotten me as a gag gift to supplement my Gangsta Rapper costume one Halloween (it went great with the afro wig, Ice Cube shirt, gun, and bad attitude).
Tripsitter Kim has had a bit more cracksmoking experience than myself, and suggested I simply heat the glass, let the compound begin to liquify and inhale slowly, as opposed to applying direct flame that might cause the compound to all go up at once. I decided to go with that, if for nor other reason than because smoking anything from a glass pipe while applying direct heat to the bowlpiece usually results in a blazingly hot hit, and I didn't want to join Danny Bonaduce in the club of guys who've burned their lips on a crackpipe.
I sat on my bed, took a few deep breaths, listened to my breathing and intermittent silence between breaths, applied fire to glass and inhaled slowly. The bubbling, melting compound smelled like artificial grape flavoring with a very subtle fish odor.
Over the next 10 minutes, I had difficult getting a decent hit, experienced very mild effects, and had to add more compound to the pipe a couple times. Although I initially had carefully weighed the compound, I now threw caution to the wind and decided to eyeball it.
After the third re-packing of the pipe, I decided that deirect flame was probably the way to go. I was right.
I applied flame to compound, inhaled slowly until the pipe filled with what for some reason appeard to be especially 'sparkly' smoke, cleared the chamber with a mighty toke, and lay back on my bed.
Within seconds I knew that I'd just taken 'the hit'. This one was going to be the hit that did to me whatever it is that 5-meo-dmt does to a guy.
I stared up at the ceiling as my vision began to fade to a brilliant white, inward from my peripheral vision to my focal point. I was unsure if I had closed my eyes, so I closed my eyes and realized that I hadn't.
Every molecule of my being, physical and meta-physical, seemed to vibrate at a frequency that was both alien and also natural and familiar. Almost like running into an old friend that you had completely forgotten about and had expected to look differently after all these years.
Kind of like, 'Wait... Who the hell is that? Oh shit, wait... I know that guy!!!'
I felt my mind begin to slip and my ego/sense of self begin to dissolve. I held on. I intended to just let go when I felt that, but for some reason I held on, unready to completely disappear. I could tell this substance was one that could make one lose themself. I realized that I was able to ignore my body and make it disappear, only to reconnect when I actually focused on it.
Suddenly, I was rising.
There on my bed, under the observation of my tripsitters, I experienced freedom for the very first time. I was 0% body, 100% mind. Gone and beautiful, yet still in touch with who and where I was.
My consciousness had ascended to a plane in which I was very much in tune with how much we've all been torturing ourselves the entire time. Each person is so stacked to the gills with defense mechanisms and survival instrincts that we simply cannot allow ourselves to be truly happy, rarely realizing that the defense mecanisms that we have in place are often more detrimental to our happiness than that which they are defending against.
For a brief moment I was aware that there was some physical aspect to what I was. I allowed myself to focus on it for what was probably 2 seconds, just long enough to recognize the sensation of a huge smile spreading across my face.
'Freedom', I heard myself say.
I teetered on the brink of being overwhelmed. In a strange space where I knew I could either allow myself to be overwhelmed, or hold on to everything that I'd previously accepted as part of existence. I wondered what would happen if I let it take me. I considered it, but quickly came to the decision that I wasn't yet ready to fully lose grip on myself.
'How many seconds?', I asked.
I heard Kim laugh and say 'That's a weird question. Uhh, about 30, maybe'.
I continued to ascend to a place neighboring what a religious person would invariably describe as heaven. If heaven was a band playing in a bar, I was standing in front of the bar watching and listening through the window. Not quite heaven, but still cradled in the positivity of some adjacent experience.
I say heaven because this experience was simply not physical. This was a spiritual experience. My physical shell meant little or nothing. I knew I'd end up locking back into it when I eventually had to. I'd never before felt anything interpreted to be my soul. Suddenly, I was all soul. More than James Brown even.
The triviality of my human fears was very apparent. I allowed myself to connect to my body again.
'Everything is going to be alllllright, guys. Perfect, actually.'
I heard myself say it and instantly agreed. For the first time ever, I *KNEW* that there was nothing to worry about. Worrying was so obviously more of a problem than whatever it was I was worrying about. My anger and hate, far more negative than the experiences that had given them birth. I felt silly about the whole thing, as if I'd been wholeheartedly arguing some point my entire life, only to suddenly be proved wrong in a way that was for my infinite benefit. I was laughably embarrassed that I had quite nliterally been my own worst enemy the entire time, clinging with a deathgrip to that which for some reason appears to be the path from pain and towards happiness, but in actuality is just a road where someone kicked the sign so it's been facing the wrong way since our very first though.
As far as I was from the conventional world, and as easy to ignore as the physical world had become, my thoughts were still lucid. I heard myself laugh. I felt my psyche playing mind-dentist and pouring bits of my soul into the emotional cavities that I'd helped to roy all these years.
I was so happy I felt like I was about to cry.
I let myself swim back to the world we're all used to. I sat up in bed and looked at my friend Otis. I looked over at my friend Kim. I thought about all the pain they cause themselves. All the things they needlessly fear, all the pain they cause themselves in an effort to protect themselves. I tried to mentally snatch their pain, knowing that if I could take it from them, I'd be able to smash it all between my themb and forefinger with the slightest of effort. Instead, I just thought about it. I knew I wouldn't be able to pull it off, but it was worth a try.
'Guys, sometimes we have to let ourselves just 'be'. I know that sounds like some hippy bullshit, but we've really been doing this to ourselves the whole time. If we could all just simply 'be' instaed of constantly living in fear of what's in front of us and in some psychological aftermath of the cumulative negativity of our pasts, we'd all be totally fine. All that shit does us way more harm than good.'
I knew telling them would do little good because before this experience, telling me would've done little good.
I knew I'd just been granted a special and realistic understanding of the human condition. I felt incredibly priveledged. Not in some elitist, Studio 54-esque, 'I've been there and you haven't' sort of way. It was more like what I would imagine one would feel if they lived a life in which they had to kill to eat and fight to survive, and had suddenly become fortunate enough to be philanthropic.
Even though I could tell I just swam in the shallower end of the mental pool in which 5-meo-dmt was so keen on pushing me, I knew that I just had the most positive of all my life changing experiences.
Everything is going to be alright.
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