Citation: Ipsofacto. "Fighting The DMT Spirit: An Experience with DMT (ID 92355)". Erowid.org. Dec 20, 2011. erowid.org/exp/92355
“In which our hero doses on methylone, smokes a large amount of cannabis, and then working his way up to a high dose of smoked DMT is forced to battle with a malevolent DMT entity who subjects him to a Magical Attack.”
This is an experience of smoking DMT while on the plateau and come-down from methylone. The methylone was nice – empathic, euphoric, and stimulating. I had smoked a bunch of strong weed as well, and drank a little wine. I decided to smoke some DMT.
I tried a few times but without too much success. I only managed to vaporize a little and had mild but interesting DMT trips. They were not unpleasant, although on one I did see a lizard-alien type creature amid the closed-eye hallucinations. I have seen them before, and though I think it is rather superstitious of me, it always slightly alarms me. For the most part, however, these experiences were slightly euphoric, transcendent, and pleasant experiences. But emboldened by the methylone, I thought that just wasn’t enough. I put about 60 mg of DMT into the bowl of my bong on top of some weed, and vaporized most or all of it in 2 big hits.
The high-dose DMT experience is utterly different than a moderate or low-dose experience for me. I crossed a threshold. My field of vision contemplated an empty black space in the center with morphing 3-dimensional geometric shapes gyrating on both sides. I remembered the high-dose DMT space and the fact that it transforms reality into something completely unrecognizable, though not necessarily beautiful or transcendent. In fact for me, it is more likely to be colorful but somewhat flat, machine-like, and even cartoonish.
I realized I was tripping extra hard, and that the experience was about to just take over completely. For just a second I wondered if this was going to be a breakthrough?
I then felt myself being propelled forward at astonishing speed. However, I could tell that I was being propelled towards something I might not want to experience at all. My resistance and fear took hold. Within less than a second I saw my destination. It was the DMT spirit personified as a female demoness. I have met her before, only once, on my first ever DMT experience, in which she welcomed me and told me she was the “Queen of Spice.” As I looked into her face with horror her voice told me “welcome to your nightmare.” With a rush I was being sucked down into an experience that I had created for myself or that the DMT entity had created for me. It was going to be my ultimate nightmare, tailor-made just for me. It looked like it was going to have a prosaic real-world theme - being tortured or something unpleasant - but transformed and reconfigured into the machine-like fractalizing cinematic totality of the high-dose DMT experience.
Something within me revolted. I used my fear and willpower to direct myself away from the nightmare tunnel. I cleared an empty space for myself in my consciousness, and told the DMT entity or entities that I would not submit to this, that I had not come into their space for this experience, and that I sought higher goals – truth, not nightmare scenarios fractalized and engineered by hostile entities. Transcendence, not a scifi-DMT horrorshow.
I could now see a male DMT entity, or more properly at that time “the” DMT entity. He was not a tyke, or elf, or alien, but the spirit of the substance, a resplendent God – part South American indigenous deity, part futuristic machineic-being. And he was angry! I had refused his gift, and possibly his woman who bore the gift as well. He roared at me, infuriated by my disrespect and refusal to go along with the evening’s planned entertainment.
Within moments I was subjected to what I can only think of as a magical attack. The DMT entity was breaking my reality into pieces, rapidly throwing things at my consciousness and essentially toying with me, showing me what he could do. I was afraid, but in some way I was also buoyed by my ability to withstand the attack and to have enough control to not have to submit to the nightmare scenario. As my consciousness splintered in my mind I was able to word a simple phrase of resistance: “I don’t care…..” This seemed to be the spell I needed to rob the DMT entity of his anger. He relented and the attack stopped. If I didn’t care, what was the point? Still, I felt his displeasure at my lack of respect and cooperation.
As suddenly as it started, it was over. I was back in my room. Less than 5 minutes had passed. I felt utterly drained, exhausted, disappointed, and confused. I seek insights from DMT, I seek beauty, I seek the other-worldy, the transcendent, the numinous. Instead I was taken over by a hostile and superficial experience, threatened with my personalized ultimate nightmare, and subjected to magickal attack. I checked myself, and realized that overall I felt ok - I had survived without much consequence. An avid pot-smoker, my forgetting skills are sharply honed, and I decided not to let this trouble me much further. But still, I wondered, if the DMT Gods hate me, if I reject their gifts of nightmares, what can I expect from use of this substance in the future?
I have been schooled that during a psychedelic trip one needs to relax, let go, and experience whatever the substance has in store for you. I think this is generally good advice. Maybe if I had been wiling to let myself experience the nightmare it would have ended with an experience of transcendence. Maybe I lost a valuable opportunity to face my own fears and conquer them.
However, this experience also showed me something about control. Having control is not necessarily a bad thing. I also, for the first time, understood intuitively the shamanic use of icaros during ayahuasca ceremonies. Icaros are not just songs – they direct the ayahuasca experience. Maybe I needed an icaro of my own, as this entire experience occurred in silence. In any case, I will be more careful of set and setting before my next high-dose DMT experience.
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