DOSE:	3 hits	smoked	DMT
		smoked	Cannabis
		smoked	Tobacco

BODY WEIGHT:

55 kg

During the earlier months of the year, when I was desperate to get my grubby hands on some DMT, it seemed a near impossible feat. Nobody knew about it, no one could source any, and it was certainly too complicated to attempt to extract myself.

Then something flipped and by chance, my boyfriend and I managed to land quite an abundance of it. This was not necessarily a good thing, as my boyfriend and I are fucking fiends, and we were soon to learn a hard lesson in respect.

First things first, we need to get one thing straight. I think that DMT should not be regarded as a 'drug'. It's not a party starter or a ticket to a good time- One should not be smoking DMT with the intent to 'get high', but rather, to experience a heightened state of consciousness. One needs a certain amount of spiritual and emotional intelligence before embarking on an entheogenic journey; the effects of this medicine are profound and not to be taken lightly.

I know all this. My boyfriend knows all this. Yet somehow, despite all our research and accumulated knowledge, we still managed to fuck it up.

After our first magical DMT experiences, we had a few more harmless little dabbles. Neither of us were taking enough to properly break through, just enough to experience the visuals and the sense of euphoric oneness. After about three 'mini-trips' I began to feel frustrated at the fractal geometry I kept seeing. I didn't understand it. All the shapes and patterns were doing my head in. 'What does it even mean?!' I recall shouting into the ether at one point, only to be met with raucous laughter from the 'guardians' of the Tryptamine Palace.

The dancing devils and carnival kids from my first ever trip nearly always made an appearance, splitting and multiplying themselves under my kaleidoscope eyes. I was stuck in an endless loop, doomed to forever lurk in the pre-Breakthrough dimension, and it was frustrating as fuck.

Sure, it's pretty, but it's like the sun- stare too much and it hurts your eyes. So on this particular night, after two nonsensical journeys, I listened to the boyfriend gush about his breakthrough, describing aliens and other fantastical beings in a rapturous tone I'd never heard before, I decided to make my third hit count.

I packed the cone big (marijuana/tobacco blend), sprinkling a healthy amount of the white powder on top. I was used to tripping with my eyelids clamped shut, happy to let the closed-eye visuals take over, but boyfriend suggested I try keeping my eyes open for once. Ever the adventurer, I complied.

We also decided to forgo music and visuals this time around. I had read somewhere that the trip can be distorted by external stimulus and that it's better to journey in silence. We kept the tv switched on to an empty HDMI source so that it would stay on the blue screen- this provided much softer lighting than the fluorescent ceiling bulb.

Around the same time as my vision became filled with dancing chrysanthemums, boyfriend decided that even though he'd already had three sizable hits that evening, the last one was just so good that he really wanted another.

So he took his fourth hit, and the world promptly turned upside down.

A portal was about to open up on one of my bedroom walls, I was sure of it, and I was watching the energy of the room swirl and thicken around the area. The density of the wall was changing, becoming malleable, and I was super intrigued as to who or what was gonna come bursting through.

I could feel boyfriend rustling beside me. My eyelids are fluttering and I can see different worlds within each flutter. I am vaguely aware of bf dashing out of the room, only to flop back down beside me a few seconds later. He's trying to tell me something. All that comes out is, 'I just, yeah.' I want to comfort him but I cannot speak, let alone form thought or sentences.

I am still transfixed by the wall and it's impending portal-dom, when, presumedly due to lack of activity, the tv suddenly switches itself off, plunging the room into a thick unexpected darkness, and simultaneously, an ungodly, gutteral sound fills the room.

It's the devil, I know it.

The sound continues, piercing in the terrifying blackness. It's like some sort of primal heave. A low-toned rumble, an utterance surely originating from the bowels of hell itself.

I somehow form the presence of mind to reach out and turn on the lamp on my side table. Face me, Lucifer! I turn to see what incarnation of evil lies beside me.

He is in foetal position, my boyfriend's body with the devil's soul inside. His eyes are all pupil, no iris, black as the night. He is uncontrollably vomiting all over himself, convulsing with each violent heave, choking on the bile that spews forth.

At this point, I'm at the peak levels of my trip, but I'm very aware that my situation is real and needs to be dealt with. I know I'm not hallucinating this shit, much as I wish I was, and I'm using all my wits to override the DMT in my brain. I understand that bf needs me to pull through for him right now, so I place my hand gently on his leg, intending to say something reassuring, but as my fingers touch his skin he begins to turn black and decay.

I recoil, slamming my eyes shut, trying to blink away the image of my boyfriend's rotting corpse, ignoring his violent retching. It's not real. He's not decaying, you're just fucked up right now, having to deal with an even more fucked up situation. I took a deep breath and when I opened my eyes, he was back to being alive and skin-coloured.

You can do this, I told myself. Your lifetime of watching horror movies has all been leading up to this moment.

I pulled myself together enough to know that I needed to get boyfriend in the shower, stat. Not only because he was totally ruining the bed linen with a sea of vomit pooling around him, but because he also might choke on it and die.

I made a few futile attempts to communicate with him, to get him to understand my intentions and maybe even assist, but it was useless, so I ended up hoisting him by the waist, draping his 6ft vomit-soaked body over mine and dragging him into the ensuite, the whole time seeing little goblins and creatures out of the corners of my eyes.

After I shoved him in, he just sat on the shower floor, limbs askew and folded in ways they probably shouldn't fold, and stared unblinkingly at one fixed point on the ceiling. I asked him if he wanted to me to stay with him but he emphatically shook his head no, accidentally shaking off loose bits of vomit in the process. 'I just want things to be normal,' he choked out sadly.

He was in the exact same position when I returned five minutes later with a glass of water for him. 'Do you want some water, baby?' This time he nodded so I passed him the glass, placing it into his open outstretched palm. He failed to grip or close his hand around the glass, and so it fell straight through, releasing the cold water all over bf's legs.

He didn't notice or react.

I sighed and went back to the bedroom, trying to psych myself up for the arduous clean-up ahead of me. The room had the same dark and heavy presence to it, in spite of all the lights now being on, and I could still see little goblins in my peripheral vision. Rustling in the curtains, scrambling under the bed. I knew I was fighting off the last effects of the hallucinogen, but it was unlike anything I've felt on it before.

Every other time, as soon as I thought about my ordinary reality and third dimensional body, I found myself instantly back in it. Boom, trip complete, aside from some residual fractals dancing around and energy trails, there's no more hallucinations to speak of.

This time, however, I felt a shaky pit of doom in my stomach. I wasn't entirely sure if boyfriend had accidentally been replaced by an evil spirit and I was too scared to go look at him in case he was still twisted up in the same creepy exorcist-like pose. I also couldn't trust my own perception of his demon status as I had no way of knowing what was real and what was the DMT.

I busied myself with gathering up the soiled bedsheets, and struggled with them over to the bedroom door, intending on taking them downstairs to go straight in the wash.

However, when I gripped the handle, I froze up in terror, imagining all the potential horrors that could be lurking behind the door. All I knew for certain was that the bedroom was still relatively safe, anything beyond that was a mystery, and I was not in the right headspace to be solving a mystery right now.

'Baby?' I called out shakily to bf, still afraid to look at him directly. 'I know you're really sick, but I'm just letting you know that as soon as you're feeling better, I need you coz I'm really scared.' After several seconds of agonizing silence, he finally called back weakly, 'ok.'

About twenty minutes later, it stared to feel like real life again. The ominous presence lifted. Boyfriend came good, spurred by his damsel in distress, and the next time I looked into his eyes they had colours in them again.

I still don't know if they actually went black or I just hallucinated them so; both scenarios are equally feasible.

When normality was restored enough for bf to speak, I asked if he had any recollection of what had just happened. His eyes were terrified- he looked like one of those PTSD war veterans. 'All I remember is needing to pee so I got up and went to the toilet, but the room was spinning too fast, so I held on the door frame to stop myself from falling over. Then everything was black and white.' His face became even more stricken. 'And there were these long, thin men. Black and white striped.' I'd certainly never encountered anything like that. 'Were they mad at you?' I asked. 'I didn't see any entities, but I have the overwhelming feeling that we just got bitch slapped by hyperspace. That was a warning.' Boyfriend was nodding in agreement. 'Definitely. The long men were not happy with me at all.' We both laughed nervously and then fell into silence for a long time. What else was there to say? We'd just been owned by the spirit realm. I was thoroughly humbled.

It's been a few months now since the incident I've come to refer to in my head as 'the night of the vomit demon'.

I'm happy to say there's been no residual spooky activity and our bedroom remains portal-free. Neither boyfriend nor I have touched DMT since, even though we both still have some, we've stashed it away for when we're good and ready. The biggest lesson I've learned out of this is that it's essential to take adequate time between each trip to try and integrate the experience. You can't just rush into the next one until you've learned what you need to learn.

Sure, experiencing a non-ordinary state of consciousness is completely intoxicating, and while it's tempting to want to keep going back for more, it's simply too much for our human brains to handle. I believe medicines like DMT give us a glimpse behind the veil, just enough to remind us of our true nature and activate our higher selves. We then need to try and interpret this knowledge and apply it to our third dimensional reality, and only when we have fully integrated these lessons should we attempt to gain further insights.

Attempting to push the limits with this medicine won't end in a fun outcome. It's like teaching addition and subtraction to a kindergartner and then enrolling them in an algebra tournament expecting them to win. There's no 'get rich quick' scheme for knowledge and understanding, it only comes with time, and I for one won't be fucking with that system again. I suppose the silver lining of this experience was gaining the ability to silence my inner fiend.

It's believed that in ancient times, the sacred plants would call to the shamans, showing them how to harness their mystical powers and providing them with ultimate wisdom. Assuming this to be true, I can trust that when I'm truly ready to revisit the divine realm, DMT will make it known to me, so I'll just patiently await its call.

Exp Year: 2016	ExpID: 109402
Gender: Female
Age at time of experience: 30
Published: Oct 28, 2016	Views: 13,099
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