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Way Too Strong a Voyage
DPT
by Centaur
Citation:   Centaur. "Way Too Strong a Voyage: An Experience with DPT (exp98056)". Erowid.org. Jan 11, 2017. erowid.org/exp/98056

 
DOSE:
135 mg oral DPT (capsule)

BODY WEIGHT: 165 lb


Male, age 63 wt.165 ht.6í experience w/classic psychotropic, peyote, lsd, mushrooms/I am generally sensitive to these.

Intro to testing DPT: Casual study noted WIDE range of dose levels, and Shulginís Tihkal methods of administering describe mainly IM. Read about closed eye visuals & transporting to or witnessing a tunnel of light or place of light. Sept.,2011-Aug.,2012: Received what turned out to be a 250mg mediocre batch from a citizen. Escalated dosage 50mg up in 25mg increments. Form: gelcaps, oral.

Effects: 50mg to 100: pleasant physical rushes, field of vision sparkly like a less edgy 2C-E, if I could meditate or be still, unnaturally 60's color-edges (lime green/chartreuse) to objects, had difficulty urinating. Closed eye I beheld a lighthouse/throne beaming out lights, its base was writhing satyr men with serpentine women, merging, like Hindu yoni/lingam sculpture only alive and copulating. Could not get close to this event as it was more like a tree in a field.

During the comedown any interior contemplation just brought the appearance of insect headed, praying mantis munchkins that were up to no good or rearranging something in the elemental world. They were not scary, I just didn't like them. (between these episodes I was introduced to 2C-E & 2C-I and thought it grand, forgot about DPT remnant).Then after nearly depleting my 2C-E I pull out a gram of what I thought was it, but no it is DPT. Nine months old, unopened standard black, factory sealed packet, kept in a dark drawer in an AC'ed house.

TRIP REPORT: Early Oct. 2012 4:30pm: I gel cap and down orally 135mgs as that was the level I reached on the crap stuff. 1/2hrs in I knew I had made a mistake. This hadn't degraded at all and was the real thing.
1/2hrs in I knew I had made a mistake. This hadn't degraded at all and was the real thing.
The whizzing, molecular stir in my every cell and sensation told me a biggy is coming.

45min in: One of the top ten most electrifying experiences of my life. Threads connecting my skin (I tried to brush them off as cat-hair) and interior were zipping out into a totally blurry field of floating ornamental air balloons and cascading vaults of color. Motor skills were hindered, focus impossible. The level of suspension of disbelief, believing the joyful or fearful possibilities my psyche was telling me was happening, was quick and intense.

Captured all my LSD affections plus some spiritual, mythic and very electrical presence. Light in all its manifestations was the theme. Blue light from my Wi-Fi as it was blinking became a wild severed cable spewing current wildly about. It was incendiary. I looked out my window and yes there were fire engines. Uh,oh. Could not read the small box on the computer screen to type anything in. Took a shower to calm myself down. Wonderful sensations, sexual and sensuous but Mr. Wily had shrunken in fear, as if he had been in the ocean. Hydrating seemed and was important, spilled Gatorade across counter, shaking hands. Stumbled into/ against things. Bumped a pedestal upon which a Native American mini rug and a wooden sculpt rested. Sculpture flew to the ground as I clumsily stabilized the pedestal/glass display case. What was in actually a wooden feather that was not glued in the sculpture bonked across the floor.

Here is an example of the quick assumptions/beliefs, unfounded fears and thoughts that came way fast: the pedestal seemed to be a memorial for a slain hero that I had disturbed, even desecrated, the wood feather I picked up was I knew to be from a bird, broken and my fault. I gently laid it on the table and said ďIím sorryĒ for the offence, for the slaying of the wooden bird I never saw. I sit to check my heart rate with fingertip pulse device. The red numbers jump about. 128?! Or 118? (tachycardia!) I canít tell and donít believe it anyway. Feels more elevated at 111 on 2CE. I am not alarmed by this. It seems more from excitement. But there is that push, compelling motion.

Go outside and it was a cool eve at sunset. The sky was dripping color. I was afraid. Had to induce the mantra ďIím just tripping and will get to a period when I am not.Ē
Had to induce the mantra ďIím just tripping and will get to a period when I am not.Ē
Noticed one of my two housecats had snuck outside, shooed it back in. Could not think logically to any follow-up thought that might alleviate fear and upset: Thing just were and I and it were profoundly in motion. A war between angels is occurring and I am maybe in the arena of collateral damage. My flesh appeared transparent and the cogs and internal apparatus like spinning gears were rotating in conjunction and at the same roaring speed as the carousal of nature. A raging war event was in the sky, the earth was shimmering unsteadily.

I could not sit still. Music Vangelisís 1492 a bit theatrical. Stirred things up too much. I had trouble understanding/seeing the disc player, hit every button to off it. Parts of my house look unfamiliar and in this recollection I still donít know where I was when certain occurrences went down. I looked for my second cat, it turning quickly to tragedy, simply because I couldnít connect up the observation that with the less bold cat discovered outside, the other bolder one was probably too. Therefore to simply go out back into a safely fenced inescapable yard and call the 2nd cat all would be well. Nooooo. It was gone, I caused it to disappear, I am responsible, I cry mournfully the name of the cat. My wife is before me (she is out for the eve) or I am seeing the moment when I must tell her I lost our little beloved. I weep. I moan for the loss, how did this happen, when did I get back outside? Was I inside or outside.

I kneel to the cool cement patio. Meteors hurl in the pulsating heavens. I cry for my little companion to come to me, I mourn her possible loss as a current loss, death. I am weak, I see a host of entities hovering about, It is I who am dying. Itís all-right, itís not all-right I didnít mean to do it. I surrender and lay down on the pavement. This is a ritual, I am helpless gently easing down I am flat. My right arm is propped up, my hand limply spread as if seeking mercy is my impression, I am calm but extremely perplexed as to why this happened and why so quickly. Something really frightening is to the left, redness, a blood sacrifice on an Aztec stone, goodness/mercy to the right. I donít want to be one of those who plead for more life. The act and the panic and uselessness of such a request of the angel of death jar me a moment. But a quote from Joseph Campbell that the angel of death seems scary from far off but is absolutely beautiful up close (or I am applying that thought now) seems whispered to me or it was equally a sensation, a pause to behold the beauty about me and relinquish, surrender.

I decided, again not a thought but a rescuing affirmation, that everything would be OK if I recited Godís name (a Sufi practice of reciting the 99 beautiful names of God like mantras and especially to have Godís name on their lips at the moment of passing) Öso I Praised God as the Creator of beauty and perfection. The Beauteous. It came out respectfully, sincerely even though his angels were slaying me. Could not see even the outline of the beings to my right, didnít glance at the ones on the left. I breathed deeply a cool air. The frightening elaboration of entities to my left evaporated. The mood shifted, I sighed like ďwhew.Ē I curled up, into a knee to the chest, one leg bent relaxed pose, sitting. A reprieve, not necessary for me to die. I marveled . What in the world just happened? I was so thirsty.

Unfamiliarity with my back yard. I go inside for water. Canít find the cup of water and one of Gatorade I brought outside. Peek into the computer room and it is aflame from that blue light, the severed electrical cord that is streaming blue flame. Canít go in there. Somehow I end up in my garage without the light on. Searching for the cat but not. Walk toward the side door like I usually do in the semi darkness but cannot find it. Stumble into things, this is a trash dump, my cat has been rat poisoned and is here somewhere. I am frantic, parched. I decide if I can get to the hose outside the side door I will be alright. Knock things over. I head to the small windows across the garage door for some light. It is a prison cell. I am locked in, tortured, what did I do to deserve eternal thirst and such an ugly cell. Red death seems near. I kneel down beginning the Iím too weak to resist this onslaught but build a sudden resolve to fight.

Before me on the floor are two snakes, rising up, no living but made of gems, on the left a red one on the right a white one. Gifts of inestimable value, sacredness. Immediately I have taken the white one and am in trouble. Although I am not holding, it is not even around. Wrong choice or a threat comes with it. It becomes clear that I am pursued for wrongly taking this gem. All I did was see its beauty or get near it. I resolve that I will resist this onslaught of danger and death.

Somewhere in this 4th hour, lost in my garage, I think how fucked up I appear and will appear if my wife comes home right now.
Somewhere in this 4th hour, lost in my garage, I think how fucked up I appear and will appear if my wife comes home right now.
(she is a straight arrow and drugs in general a forbidden for me) I stumble about the garage, into a wall and slide down it like a drunken man. I get up put on one of my hats hanging on a peg, it feels unfamiliar. I knew it was there barely seeing then why canít I find the door? It is critical that I get fluids, cool air. The garage door opener is a 4í square of wiggling dull light. I press it and am jarred by the noise of the rising door. Ah, something real, I can see the door to the kitchen. Iím going to be alright. I rush into the kitchen, there is spilled red Gatorade on the dark counter but at least it doesnít look like blood. Cold drinks and ice on my forehead and neck revive me, real objects and the safe familiarity of my house are there and real.

After sitting I sense the push, the electric current of shear pushing has subsided. Visuals are more organized and patterned, less of the blur of pandemonium. Feel really good and am amazed at the time. What was I doing all this time, where was I in the house when certain things occurred. I search more like an irked, frustrated parent for my cat. There is no panic as the house is mine, my life is mine. My wife clicks open the kitchen door and sees me pacing about. I tell her I cannot find Hermione (this cat sneaking out has been going on for a week, I accidentally let them out and now they love it and try to scoot out every opportunity). She helps me then says: ďthere she is at the doorĒ and sure enough the little critter in staring in the back door glass. Everything is all-right. I sit in my easy chair in the dim light. It is 10:20pm.

My wife darts in and out doing her evening routine. I have to smile about weird and senseless goings on in my head. I am delighted with this ebbing of the spectrum of dazzling colors. But tracers still trace. I say something aloud like ďrequisition more bubble butted grocery cartsĒ referring to some dwarves shopping beneath the furniture. It is very funny and I chuckle at my own wit. Couldnít sleep until 2:00am even with two Excedrin PM.

The next day I do not even sleep late. Eyes sting with dryness, body aches like Iíve been beaten up, I walk hunched over. Had to just say Holy Moly about the trip. Reflecting more deeply I remembered that the red & green dragons were Geoffrey of Monmothís beginning to the King Arthur legend. A topic of interest to me in college and Jung; his wife and a devotee of his wrote a book on the grail legend. At the bottom of a pond two dragons wrestled. Which became the symbol of the house of Pendragon Arthurís father? I must read more about it.

Opinion: Lucyís sister I name her, Living myth, summoner of angels, challenger of character. I love this one, itís a Teacher, a reckless friend. Future Dose-wise I will do half the amount. Duration 5 hours intense/ four more in gentle comedown.

Just a note: with all our measuring and scales and approaching things cautiously and with small incremental ups in dose, this is an example of how a slight over-input can occur: by basing ones knowledge on the use of substandard product.

Further study of otherís work:
R.O.A:
Insufflated worse (is that possible) than 2C-E
Plugging= in intensity to nasal
Oral: no stomach upset or lower intestine aggravation
IM most direct, Shulginís people do this, I have a little experience w/spikes & may try
Dose range: Here is the rub; all over/ recommended 25-50mg (starters) -250mg, note my 130 near o.d. above...

Exp Year: 2012ExpID: 98056
Gender: Male 
Age at time of experience: 63 
Published: Jan 11, 2017Views: 3,511
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DPT (21) : Alone (16), Entities / Beings (37), Difficult Experiences (5), General (1)

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