Citation: Sonic Flush. "Visiting with Hades: An Experience with 5-MeO-DMT (exp79226)". Erowid.org. Jul 11, 2009. erowid.org/exp/79226
Iím not humble enough, Ö Iím not humble enough
||(powder / crystals)
These were the parting thoughts of this 5-MeO-DMT experience. An experience in which I put myself in serious danger of cardiac arrest. Once again I have been re-acquainted with an important lesson; there seems to be no upper limit to the respect and care that should be given to these medicines. Today I made a serious mistake: I coolly and casually entered into a trip on 5-MeO-DMT, and I did it alone.
I am no stranger to psychedelics, and have spent a great deal of time studying their effects, both through research and immersion. My time spent sitting and providing psychedelic crisis care to others has widened my breadth of exposure to their potential, both good and bad. I have been brought to my knees on more than one occasion, under the grip of a too-powerful trip, pleading for help, begging for it all to stop. Foolishly, it is even with this prior experience and knowledge that I went into the trip too casually by far, and for this reason, I can only point the finger of responsibility squarely at myself.
The plan for this trip was predicated on a trip taken only three weeks before. That one involved snorting 5 mg, waiting a half hour and then re-dosing with another 5 mg. The trip was powerful, interesting and very manageable (the report can be found here
, and is worth reading as a prelude to this report for the sake of comparison). I thought my next experience should involve 10 mg insufflated all at once. Little did I know that even at the same dose, the intensity of this experience would far surpass the last experience.
It is worth noting that the final words of that report were:
I have no doubt that in larger doses, this medicine could serve me with the terror I have read so much about, and at times in the past felt. The ominous power of 5-MeO-DMT is well understood by this meek and humble traveler. I will proceed with great caution and respect.
How quickly I forgot my own words of wisdom.
I created the setting for the trip by preparing a bed in the meditation room, with Anahata playing on the surround system. I carefully measured out the dose and cut it into two lines. Then I insufflated the dose without a great deal of forethought, a degree of casualness that I would very quickly come to regret.
I went about my business fully expecting to retire to the bed when the come up began. I sat down at the computer to close down some work I had been doing, and within two minutes of insufflation I was very abruptly overtaken by effects coming on with the fury of a smoked experience.
Holy fuck Ö holy fuck Ö HOLY FUCK!
I was very quickly losing my ability to make sense of things, and as I shut down the computer I remembered I had a pot of candle wax on the stove. I staggered to the stove, a feeling of panic welling up in me, realizing the stupidity of this lack of preparedness. Barely able to understand the process of shutting off the stove element, I stood there in a state of panic trying to get a grip on whether I had actually shut it off or not. This most simple of tasks presented me with confusion and terror. I opened the cupboard in an desperate attempt to find a benzo, only to find myself completely incapable of finding one, and knowing it was too late anyway Ö I was already in too deep.
Christ, this is insane, Iím over my head, I gotta lie down Ö
I reached the bed and as I lay down, my visual landscape was vibrating, morphing and pixilated. There was an ominous and malevolent appearance to everything. Colours had a surreal plastic look not unlike DMT. The music on the stereo sounded menacing and terrifying. I realize it was completely wrong for the situation, it would only drive me further under. With desperate, shaking hands I shut off the stereo.
What was I thinking Ö oh God, what was I thinking? I need help, I need my baby, Iím in over my head. I have to call her at work, oh God, no I canít do that, I canít even speak. No, I must call her Ö no I canít, who can I call? Ö oh fuck, I canít even speak!
I began to pace, moving from upstairs to downstairs and back again, unsteady on my feet but unable to be still. I realized I was panicking but I couldnít seem to shut it off.
I have to get upstairs to the other bed, I have to put on some soothing music.
As I walked up the stairs I was surrounded with bizarre audio hallucinations, echoes, rumbling sounds from a dark and otherworldly place. I reached the bedroom and desperately tried to select an appropriate CD for what was happening to me. I needed angels to cast away the terror. My arms reached out, green and wrinkled like a lizardís. My hands were shaking so badly I could barely operate the CD player. I staggered back to the bed, writhing as if being swallowed by a dinosaur. My body felt as if it were being mauled, squeezed, crushed. It was perhaps, about 10 minutes after ingestion.
I lay on the bed, aware that my heart was beating dangerously fast and the pulse was beyond unsteady. Veins in my neck were pulsing outwards and my heart delivered an angry and unsteady thump in my ears, it no longer sounded like a heart, the beat was so unusual. I lay in utter terror and panic, my world was dissolving in a sea of fractals.
Oh God, please help me, my throat is closing, Iím dying. This is it. I donít want my baby to come home and find me dead, oh God, my mother, my father, my child, it is all slipping away Ö what have I done?
As if rising up in response to the dangerous situation at hand, the observer within me spoke from a place of sobriety, or sanity. It knew that my heart was in a very precarious state. It knew I had to find the power within myself to stop what was happening to me.
I can do this. With everything I know, I can do this. I must give myself to the experience or die.
With every fiber of my being lost in panic, I forced myself to meditate on the music and breath long and slowly, I listened to my heart, and told myself I could slow its angry beat. I told myself to give in, I knew I was fighting, and I needed to give in.
I can do this Ö I can do this Ö I donít want to die.
In time, my heart began to slow.
After another 10 minutes of meditation, I was able to rise and I made my way to the bathroom to throw up, more I think from the fear than anything else, but nothing would come. I sat in the bathroom, gazing into the mirror at the face morphing in front of me, and felt profound relief that it was all coming to an end. For the remaining hour of the comedown, I thought carefully about what had happened.
This was as much about panic as it was about pharmacological effects. Despite a formidable level of experience, I found myself caught up in a negative feedback loop of panic and terror that I was only able to overcome through a desperate will to live. Stupid. I am too old to be subjecting my body to this kind of physical strain. There was a mild but noticeable pain in the area of my heart for about four hours afterwards.
No more will I tread in risky territories while alone.
I look very forward to my next 5-MeO-DMT experience. It is good medicine, but not to be fucked with as I did. Next time, it will be with my love by my side, and with much greater intent and respect.
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