Citation: Chimera. "A New World: An Experience with 4-AcO-DMT (ID 64719)". Erowid.org. Oct 4, 2007. erowid.org/exp/64719
My 4-AcO-DMT trip started off very slowly. My friend C and I dosed orally at approximately 20mg each on mostly empty stomachs. We walked through C’s neighborhood into an adjacent forest, waiting for the trip to begin. I was able to feel my pulse in my fingertips, but nothing else. C informed me that his thought patterns were different somehow and that he was having a small amount of difficulty transferring his thoughts into spoken words. I initially became disenchanted with the trip as time wore on, not only because the scale had seemed to be giving different measurements for the same amount of psilocetin, but because I knew we had dosed improperly with other psychedelics in the past. C encouraged me to remain hopeful about the trip.
At about 1:45 after dosing, C and I went back to a bridge we had passed in order to smoke and try to enhance our experience. I was having very slight visuals up until this point, but they remained static in their intensity. I was seeing the sky shift from light blues to light purples and rainclouds in particular began take on a strange lilac hue. I was interested in these visuals, yet they were less than what I would experience on a mild dose of LSA. Needless to say, they didn’t excite me much. We sat on the bridge listening to some music on C’s portable speakers before smoking, and I tried to focus some more. I saw tiny specks of light dancing in front of me in odd rhythmic ways and I could tell that my prior doubts were about to be erased. We began to smoke and each took one decently sized hit out of a waterfall bong and determined that our next goal would be a walk to the park on the other side of the forest.
As we left the bridge I noticed how the plants we were walking past seemed to appear much more neon than previously before. I asked C if he noticed this as well and he agreed that colors were growing more vibrant. We went through the trees to the park we talked, but at this moment of writing I can’t remember anything of importance that was said. It probably amounted to me complaining about not tripping hard yet and C talking about his feeling of tripping but being unable to describe it in specific terms.
Suddenly we were approaching the park, walking along a hillside which gives, most likely, one of the best sea-level views of the largest mountain range in our state. I am a cloud person and noticed the gigantic cumulus clouds that were on all sides of us. As I took in the overwhelmingly large scope of the scene, I asked C to stop. My perception of light and shadow was changing drastically and I could see godliness in all of the things I was witnessing, the amazing formation and interaction of the clouds, the way every detail along the side of Mt. X was engrained into my vision, and the incredible green forest from where we came out all contributed to my wishing to stay at that point for a while longer.
C and I were discussing our intent to play some Frisbee and hang out at the park during all of this. I could not possibly understand why someone would want to direct their attention to a plastic disc when all of this apparent glory surrounded us, which made me very confused at why C was so eager to leave this place. I should make it clear that both of us typically enjoy Frisbee. C convinced me that we could do both—that is, both witness the awesome trip and play Frisbee—and I surrendered to this proposition. There was also a feeling of apprehension before going to the park for me, as I knew the trip had just gotten much more intense and I was unsure of how I would be able to react to others at the park.
As C and I walked into the park we made a beeline for our normal spot of Frisbee-tossing and psychedelic-testing. We played Frisbee with no real loss of skill, but with much interruption of us trying to put into words what we could only express with a smile. After some laughing, we chose to refrain from speaking and continued throwing the disc around for a few more minutes before retiring to a bank of grass along the edge of the park property. At this moment I really started to divert my attention to places other than the sky. The grass was healthy and the wind caused it to act with the properties of an ocean at times. What I mean by this is that I witnessed some hallucinations of the grass flowing in different directions together and undulating in such a way that made me think, “Whoa, cool.”
As we relaxed on the grass, the clouds I was observing earlier only became more majestic. The purples continued to shift and I hallucinated a pair of hands—made up of clouds, of course--coming out from an ambiguous cloud form and hugging me from the sky. This is where we stayed in one place for the longest amount of time during the trip. I inspected the grass and was amazed at what I saw. If I stayed my gaze on one patch for long enough, I could see the grass growing extremely slowly. I could also see the individual blades of grass being bent by the wind and rigidifying themselves in response to this force. It was like they were recomposing their own biological makeup in order to better defend themselves.
I must stress that this trip gave me a very strong connection to what I feel the concept “Web of Life” means. Everything around me seemed alive and animated. I had some very introspective thoughts racing through my mind at this point. It is useless to put all of them down in detail, since psilocetin will inevitably give everyone a unique trip and the thoughts are mostly relevant to just me. I will say this, however—if previously I had imagined a drawing of myself to be with firm, clear lines without fault, now I felt as if these lines were being blurred, erased. It was a feeling of expansion and I enjoyed it immensely.
The only way I could describe what I was feeling to C was with the phrase “warm and glowing happy,” which is still the easiest way for me to explain it. C was doing some drawing and writing, and I took this time to examine my hands as I did the last time I consumed 3.5g of psilocybe mushrooms. My skin morphed to a slightly more reptilian appearance and my veins turned a faded light green. I believe that the dose of psilocetin that I ingested was about equal to a 2.5-3g mushroom trip, but this is just an approximation. I am sure there are distinct differences in taking each drug. I never felt such euphoria on mushrooms. Even though I was very content where we were situated, C and I thought it was about time to move on.
As we left the park C suggested that we try running and so we did. I saw the grass accelerate under my steps differently than when sober, but this was nothing special. Our run ended quickly and we walked down a water-line for our district. C and I talked about random things and eventually turned back around to catch the sunset at a bench on the opposite side of the original forest we went through. Through the forest it seemed like there was always just enough light to make our way without trouble. I can’t remember my exact words, but I mentioned to C how it was as if the psilocetin was bringing out the important things around us and phasing out the unimportant.
We came to the bench we were looking for and paused for a while to look at the sunset. I took a drink from a water bottle, no longer choking myself by squirting too powerful a stream straight at the back of my throat (this had been happening to me the whole trip). We briefly reflected on a topic that never fails to amuse us, how many people do drugs recklessly and wind up giving the rest of us a bad name. C and I moved on to the bike path that led us back to his house after a couple minutes. We scared a car by being indecisive in crossing the street, probably confusing the driver. I felt like this little incident sobered me up a lot, even though there was no real danger. I also felt guilty for possibly having the effects of psilocetin on my consciousness affect someone else in a negative way.
As C and I walked along the path back home I offered up the possibility of walking on the golf course next to us—barefoot. The grass’ spongy nature and the soft shoots were pleasing to my feet and toes and C noted that he liked the sensation as well. Before making the final distance, C and I smoked a bowl of marijuana. Nothing notable came out of this, and we started down the last hill, me murmuring about metaphors concerning drugs and life.
There is so much more I could say about this trip. I feel that while the visuals alone merit one’s consumption of this drug, they are such a small portion of the trip. The astounding feelings that are possible under the influence of psilocetin are a far better reason.
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