Me, DiMiTri and a year

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The story of me and DMT, the exploration that happend during a year and the changes and insights it brought me.

Submitted: August 02, 2018

A A A | A A A

Submitted: August 02, 2018



Before we enter my mind, a maze of schizophrenic delusions, invisible walls and unmeasurable depths, a brief introduction might be useful.

For aslong as I can remember I’ve always bin different, well maybe I did fit in in kindergarten but I have no memories of that period. During all phases of life I was an outcast surrounded by a small group of people whom also didn’t fit in. At the time I thought I was an outcast simply because I looked different from the rest. I had long hair where everyone had short and stylized hair. In hindsight I was more myself then anyone around me, yet I still had trouble accepting this self and thus projecting it as a strong and beautiful presence. What the world got instead was a weak and ugly presence clad in self-doubt; what a pity. By the time I turned 15 I discovered a magic blanket which I could pull over myself creating an almost spill proof barrier between me and the world; the blanket goes by the name of cannabis.
Before I discovered this magic plant I felt lost in a world which didn’t seem to have a place in it for me, all I had was my goal of becoming rich trough whichever means possible. This goal left me together with my first exhalation of smoke. A exhalation I clearly remember; sitting on a small mount of dirt not far away from school my first joint was sparked. It was some Lemon Haze I grabbed from my fathers stash mixed with some tabaco, hey we didn’t know better at the time. The smoke was thick and irritating to the lungs yet sweet and spicy. I took in as much as I could before passing the joint, by this point I was quite convinced I would pass out myself. My head became light, my vision sharper and my thoughts? Like limitless mountains with bottomless cliffs between them, what a interesting region to explore. Control of my motor skills was somewhat limited but after a little time I regained full control; which was good because by then it was time to get back to school. Somehow it seemed smart at the time to have in my first cannabis experience in a short break. The true magic of cannabis wasn’t in the pleasure it gave me, it was in the blanket I carried into the school place. No longer was I the reason people and I didn’t click, no longer was I the reason for my strangeness… I was simply high, people didn’t bother me and I didn’t bother them; it’s all very natural and it certainly doesn’t have anything to do with whom I am as a person.

I fell in love, head over heels, with cannabis. I loved everything about it! Subconsciously I loved the blanket it threw over me, consciously I liked the newness it brought to a boring experience like school. Upon smoking cannabis I seemed to gain the ability to be present enough in the classroom so I would pick up enough information to pass my exams without effort, yet have the ability to explore my vast inner worlds constructed by nothing other than thought alone. An innocent love relationship blossomed into a full fledged marriage, cannabis became an part of my life, an adviser and councilor in times of need. Smoking soon developed into a daily habit, and from there on it became as habitual as breathing to the point of me not leaving the house before first having a smoke and then rolling a smoke.

Not only the end product entered my life, so did the giver of this glorious end product, the cannabis plant herself. By the time I was 15 I already had my first plant among the dozen of plants meant for my father and mother. Plants I used to hate as a child growing up, they were always taking up all the room in our yard making me have to fight an green jungle just to park my bike. Now these plants soon became the focus of my passion. When I was 16 I had five plants for myself and an additional ten I would take care of for my parents. At age 17 a greenhouse was build to maintain the plants in and hopefully avoid thieves. From here on things spiraled out of control and the plants started consuming all my time, energy and passion. I could not find out enough about them.

By the time I was 19 I had built a proper greenhouse strong enough to survive world war 3 with the help of my father. A tough construction made out of wood and Plexiglas, unfortunately without windows. The first year I grew about 30 plants in this greenhouse; both auto flowers which enter their generative phase independent of the amount of light hours received and regular plants which require a minimum of 12 hours of complete darkness before they enter their generative phase. At age 20 this brought me in front of a judge explaining why I had 95 cannabis plants before they were killed by pigs wearing blue hats. They raided me whilst I was at work, and I thank the gods for not being at home at that moment. If I thought having your plants stolen was bad before, this was at least twice as hard to swallow.

Nonetheless the entire ordeal passed without any real consequences besides me meeting my current circle of friends. Had I not been raided that day I would’ve never reached out. So in hindsight, I’m gratefull for being busted.

By this time I had finished my VMBO education and a followup MBO education focusing on construction, spent 3 years doing random jobs which required no schooling and finally decided I should go back to school and get an HBO degree which focuses on plants. Yet again I let cannabis steer me on the path of life.

At age 23 I had managed to develop some serious issues, I excelled at the human part of living, but had a hard time being. I was a fat kid filled with equal parts of self-pity and hatred towards just about everything and everyone else. This cauldron of hate was kept at a rolling boil by ridiculous amounts of alcohol and other self-destructive behavior.

These circumstances make it only natural that the first true lesson I’ve learned it is the following; A fish is never capable of judging the waters it swims in. A fish swimming deep within the ocean in cold water doesn’t experience cold water, I doubt it even experiences water. The same goes for human’s, especially when it comes to our addictions. An addict is incapable of judging the waters in which he swims till he steps out of the water thereby creating a perspective of the bigger picture. Only when the water currently being swam in is left can it be compared to other waters, only then may it be judged as terrifyingly cold or comfortably warm. My water was somewhere in the terrifyingly cold end of the spectrum.Luckily life had other things in store for me then roaming the gutter, and I was too soon leave my terrifyingly cold yet comfortable waters.
Things started changing after I met my agent of change, a beautiful red haired girl of great stature yet small posture. Something in me sparked upon the second of finding her and a great blaze was lit within me upon meeting her, instantly I reviewed my life and decided I should make some changes. From there on I swam in a stormy ocean of clearheaded self reflection, reviewing everything that I had done and was doing at the time. At this point in time it seemed to me there was something beyond me having an conversation about my past, how the past shaped my present and how I needed to go trough these experiences to shed them instead of pushing them to the side. At the time I was pretty much sure of the fact it was the agent of change somehow communicating telepathically with me. But I’ve always put this aside as imagination, it took a ton of psychedelics for me to go out that far to actually NEED to go and ask her whether it was or wasn’t telepathic communication. Apparently it was not.

One experience form this time period stands apart as incredibly strange, since it was a trip before I had ever tripped in my life. I clearly remember sitting behind my desk studying some rather useless details about plants when I was hit with a incredible sense of strangeness. I decided immediately that I needed to go lie down on my bed so I did. Upon laying down I closed my eyes and startling images appeared, blurred and reminiscent of a tunnel. Out of the blur a figure emerged, one wich I clearly identified as femine, and reached out and within. Touching my forehead and entering my brain, trying to find the faulty wiring causing my self-destructive behavior. Finally she found something and a modification was made, immediately the vision of the figure dropped away and a new scene appeared, this time it contained somewhat blurred kalaeidospicly aligned pictures, they were reminiscent of holiday pictures. Holiday pictures with someone I couldn’t quite make out beside a pair of giant glasses…
The experience didn’t make my self-destructive behavior stop completely, but it made the fight a lot easier. It was as if the compulsive part of my brain constantly wanting to drink or eat got muted and I was only left to deal with my ego not wanting to let go of old established “safe” patterns.

Not much after this whole ordeal of change, DMT once again found it’s way into my data stream. This time with undeniable strength and mystery. I again started looking into this mysterious substance, reading up on trip reports and background stories; fueling the already sparked fire of curiosity within me. Out of the blue I asked my agent of change whether she knew about DMT, and before I knew it I was in possession of the telephone number of a so called Mister DMT. After a short talk trough instant messaging we decided upon a specific space and time to meet, a McDonnalds parking lot along a highway. Never have I arrived at said McDonnalds, and a trip it was to get towards the queen of triptamines. For some reason I left the house with only a vague notion of the direction in which to drive, a fuel tank close to empty and a telephone battery with a shorter life span then the average fly. By the time I reached Mister DMT it was a full hour later then we planned and we were at a totally different McDonnalds wich I finally reached in a car that was screaming for fuel for the past 20 minutes of driving. One of the strangest road trips I’ve undertaken. Mysteriously enough my car kept going for about a solid 30 more minutes of highway driving till I finally found a gas station.

With the DMT in my possession the day was arriving quickly, I had schedulded it for my 24th birthday; at least this one would be special. Because do you remember that feeling of anticipation upon your birthday when you were a kid? Surely something big is going to happen, but this thing never happens… That is till my 24th birthday… only I didn’t realize it at the time of course.

A strangely familiar yet totally peculiar smoke entered my mouth and filled my lungs; immediately a pulsing vibration overwhelms me; the feeling something huge is about to be set in motion dawns upon me. I look over at the agent of change, and she looks reassuring at me, giving me a little smile; everything is okay, go ahead. I take another toke, the world starts to feel different, a loud ringing in my ears starts and a feeling of fear and anticipation rush over me. Already beginning to fade, I try to take a third hit but fail to remember to hold it In. Upon exhale I lay back on the tarp spread so lovingly for me on the forest floor and close my eyes. Immediately faces arise out of the mist, all kinds of creatures are looking down upon me, inspecting me, evaluating me. The entities range from humanish to creatures which seem to wear their skull as a face; strangely reminiscent of those dolls associated with the Mexican feast of the death. The feeling that I might be able to be accepted by these creatures starts to rise, but also a feeling of work that needs to be done. Demons to be slain within me.

Slowly my baseline reality comes back into perspective, but changed somehow. Everything looks the same, yet different; somehow everything appears connected and more beautiful than ever before. A intense sensation of satisfaction and curiosity arise, along with an entire world of questions. What is this, how does this work, what is happening, how can this be… the standard questions one has when his mind has bin blown. One of the first things I remember is shouting out, all this time messing around with cannabis, while this was out there!?! What a great shame that it enters my life so late. Once I was fully back in the here and now I was told that I can easily do this alone, I don’t need no help. I’m sure she just meant I could hang on to my motor skills long enough for me to be able to handle the pipe.. but it stung at the time; the most magical thing in the world, and yet again this too I can do alone.

And how can anyone take just a sip from the most delicious, peculiar, strange and exciting thing they have ever tasted? I resisted the urge to go back into hyperspace exactly one night.
This time I was alone, in my bedroom laying on the bed. I took 3 big hits in rather quick succession and immediately I was transported through vast kaleidoscopic tunnels consisting of black and white. At the end I’m met by something that is best described as a white castle positively buzzing with energy. Entrance was however not yet to be granted, this had to be earned. Two entities appeared in front of the castle, sitting behind something which I can only call a desk; one appeared female in nature and the other male. They were tall figures of intimidating posture with long ears somehow reminiscent of that of rabbit, they seemed to be emanating some kind of green energy. The vision was clear and so was the message, you WANT to enter this castle behind us, but demons are not welcome here. Once you defeat those, you may return.

So what where these demons? They were, no it saddens to say this but are, manifestations of my fear for life. It was the heavy drinking, the dwelling in self-pity and loathing, the endless yet uninspired puzzling over this thing called life; an ordeal which seemed so utterly pointless and riddled with only opportunities for pain and suffering. These things had to change, and while there is still work to be done, and there will always be work to be done; change has come and abundantly so.

However a lot has happened to facilitate these changes within me, of which what happened next was probably the most influential. Exactly ten days after my firs step outside this reality, my father died suddenly. After falling ill, his body totally gave up. By the time he passed away the white coats where pulling their hair out their scalps in confusion. Within the course of 4 days he went from a healthy adult to a bloated corpse already decomposing while his hearth was still being forced to pump blood. There’s no answer to the questions why and how, but I fear it has something to do with a new found control over the reality we occupy; and a lack of control over my emotions.
I tried to run for about 5 minutes from the situation, till I got the message. This cannot be outrun, you’ll need to face the facts, your feelings and the lessons within this. Instead of running away from death, I turned my face towards it. After all; I’m in the possession of a small zip lock baggy with about 8 more keys that fit the unseen door.
Throwing all caution to the wind, with the courage and stupidity ingested in the form of a ridiculous amount of Jack Daniels coursing through my veins, I grabbed my bong and the bag of keys. It was about 3 in the night and my mother had already gone to sleep. I loaded up my bowl eyeballing the dose and started calming my breath in preparation whilst sitting on the Livingroom floor. I can’t possibly imagine what at the time made me decide to smoke the spice, it’s a decision as mysterious as hyperspace itself.

No trip report could ever prepare me for the experience that followed. With my eyes wide open I blew out my single huge hit of changa smoke and the room came alive. The doors on the cabinets became cat like figures, everything assumed a look best described as Arabic and the world became drenched in red. Instead of leaving my body behind whilst being transported elsewhere, elsewhere became my here and now. And soon I found my self observing my body being controlled by what I can only assume to be my father. A struggle for control arose within the body, the new operator had already lost touch with the human form. He carried my body up the stairs into my mother’s bedroom and literally threw it in the chair; then with a surprising amount of control he started gently caressing her, stroking her hair and parting with a gentle kiss on the forehead. How sorry he was to leave her behind. The next thing I remember is that I  found myself playing outside with the two dogs, rummaging about till we became one intense clutter of human, animal and love. This moment too fades into yet another memory; being back in the living room, very confused about this entire ordeal.

After this a intense relationship with DMT started. I payed a visit to Mr. DMT’s house; I wanted more of these keys but more strongly, I wanted to be pointed the way to forging these keys myself. Apparently there’s not much to it, if you can cook you can make DMT. Patience is all it takes, and even very little of that. Gaining access to an practically unlimited amount of DMT proved to be more straightforward for me then actually buying the stuff.

The second time I went to buy some changa I managed to actually kill my car by tanking some high octane fuel in an old punto. Strange little things seem to surround this substance, and letting it into my life has exponentially increased the amount of these strange little occurrences.

The person whom introduced DMT into my life may be called the strangest of all these occurrences; the catalyst of my change provided the way toward the strongest catalyst for growth, change and foremost overstanding; I can’t help but have my mind wonder how different from each other are these two things actually? They seem somehow very connected.

The extraction of DMT can be done very crude and simply, I personally used a straight to base technique wherby you add an amount of mimosa hostillis rootbark powder to a container holding water already basified. To basify the water a compound like NaOH is added till a pH of 12 to 14 is reached. The mixture is left to be for a couple of hours before a solvent like Hexane, Hepthane, Ether or Naptha is added. My personal favorite yet most dangerous solvent to work with being ether as this extracts all of the active alkaloids resulting in jungle spice rather than white crystals only containing DMT. The solvent needs to be stirred trough, not shaken trough, the mixture so the DMT can be absorbed into the solvent. After some stirring the mixture is left to split it self again, whereby the basified mimosa containing water will sit at the bottom and the DMT laced solvent will float ontop. The solvent can be siphoned of at this point and let to evaporate or freeze precipitate.

I don’t remember much from my first DMT trip using my own DMT, but I do remember laying there after the trip tears streaming down my face and the most intense sense of euphoria I’ve ever experienced; I DID IT! I MADE THE KEYS, NOW I HAVE UNLIMITED ACCES! FINALLY! Truly a special feeling and it still fills me with joy to know that I’ve a lifetime supply of DMT laying around.

From this point on life becomes a blur of memories obscured in cannabis smoke, memories rising out of endless amounts of DMT vapor, memories lost in the dark of the alcohol blackout and even memories which seem to hold no connection to my life at all. It’s hard for me to place things in any particular chronological order, but a summary only needs to cover the contents of the overall experience, time is a rather pointless concept.

The next trip I remember is in my Greenhouse where I was growing cannabis at the time. Sitting in front of a Kali Kush cut entering its generative phase I was smoking my own jungle spice mixed with cannabis trough a bud bomb. A little metal device suited remarkably well for enjoying DMT trips with the eyes open and a slow and smooth transition into things. The loud clatter of the heavy rain hitting the plastic forming the greenhouse filled the air with a certain buzzing sense of home. There’s something special about being so close to the rain you can see it, among plants and dirt, yet dry and warm.
As I entered into the state of consciousness invoked by DMT I started seeing the plant in a different light. She assumed a beautiful glowing mechanical kind of look, showing me all her working parts, being in all her life stages at the same time. She showed me how the air moves along and trough her leaves, how she steers these flows of air with her leaves, how ridges of these leaves affect these streams and how these streams affect her. How her roots dig trough the soil in an very animalistic fashion foraging for food and water. A system constantly evolving, gaining complexity so it may give rise to new systems which itself will evolve, gain complexity and spread again.
When I finally looked up from the plants roots again and tried to look out the greenhouse there seemed to be a mass gathered just outside. Observing as I had been observing the plant, studying me. Somehow this didn’t bother me and I continued onwards. Feeling I was starting to come back, I tried to lift of once again, and ended up succeeding better then I had anticipated. Immediately I lost the entire connection with this world and stepped into another realm. I was seated in the lotus position upon liftoff, and so I was where I landed. In the middle of a circular stone tablet positioned upon a larger square stone tablet itself surrouned by a circuair patrern of water. Upon this circualir river there were little offshoots with creatures perched upon simiair structures as the one I was upon my self. They seemed to be all looking at me, once again judging me; evaluating my worth. I don’t remember any interaction, just the vivid scene described above. Upon comeback I carried a great sensation of euphoria with me that lasted for quite some days.

An experience that really stuck with me from this time period is getting into hyperspace full or rage. I smoked the spice in my greenhouse again. It was late in the day and by the time I came back to reality I was very much under the impression of things but couldn’t remember anything. I waited till I had gather my wits again and walked back home. As I came into the living room the TV was on with a live news broadcast; a massive shooting had occurred in Las Vegas. Upon seeing this I collapsed to the floor and all I could think was…. Did I just do that? Now nearly a year has passed and I still can’t quite push the thaught of responsibility from my mind.

By this time DMT wasn’t alone anymore as the sole artist making an impression upon the canvas of my soul, psilocyn had joined in on the show. First as sclerotia; a structure of the magic muschroom legally sold here in Holland. My first trip with 15 grams of those was quite rememberable, as it seemed to answer a question I always held within the deepest of my mind; did I have multiple personalities? Upon eating the sour nutlike structures I sat there for what seemed ages waiting for an effect to kick in. At the moment I was allready dismising the experience to something too weak, as something originating in the imaginiation; the effects suddenly hit me full on. With the eyes closed I saw rows of tribal people dancing to unheard music, trying to tell me to join them. I decided I needed to lie down so I made my way to the couch, laying with my face in the blazing sun. I was immediately transported to what seemed to be my innerself. A vast white room with no apparent celing, floor or walls, just empty space. In this space I tried to find someone, I shouted for them, and then finally realized I was there alone. I was alone in me, so I did not have multiple personalities! How fortunate. From here on the trip moved in another direction, and I suddenly ended up on a couch; looking my agent of change in the eyes. I remember asking her is this what you ment by just friends, really good friends, but just friends. I don’t quite remember her answering, but I do remember me begging her to message me about the experience; to validate my own experience. No message ever came ofcoure. Some meaningless beaches where seen as the trip faded and the strong will to go back arose. To bad there’s a waiting time build in called tolerance.

It took me till the evening for the question in my mind became strong enough to make the body follow suite; will DMT have a cross tolerance with the shoorms? Apparently it sort of doesn’t, yet your body doesn’t quite have the energy to sustain a high energy trip like a DMT trip so soon after consuming shoorms. I only ended up seeing a strange overlay in our base reality and having to piss harder than ever; quite a hard task when you’re walking with one leg in another reality.

With all this personal and highly individual input the search for external conformation became obvious and centered upon the work of the bard Terrence Mckenna. Hours upon hours of listening to his magnificent voice were logged, information gained, forgotten and sometimes stored and views battled or adopted. Books were bought and an exploration of the output generated by others receiving simiair input begun; the works of Alan Watts were most usefull in connecting these things.

In some of his works Terrence speaks about a practice where huge amounts of hashish were eaten in order to bring on a deep shamanic journey. As weed heads this off course became a goal of me and my friends, and I must say we did succeed; as daily consumers it just takes us about half a ton of cannabis each to reach these states. For me a oatmeal cookie platter holding about 40 grams of outdoor grown Strawberry Blues did the trick. Determent as I was to have an ayuascha like experience from cannabis, I managed to eat the entire batch of cookies in one sitting, thereby consuming all the 40 grams of cannabis, of course this was coupled with smoking as much as I could.

By the time I went to bed I was already very much in a psychedelic headspace. I remember laying down, closing my eyes and immediately being joined by an entity seemingly femine. Skeptic as I always am, I didn’t believe it to be truly happening and was going declare the presence to be the fruit of an over active imagination when this presence asked me a question.
Do you smell that? I clearly remember myself audibly sniffing the air to detect a apparently strange scent, as soon I tried to sniff the air the presence screamed out; NOW DO YOU BELIEVE I AM REAL? I just made you sniff the air when you had no reason to do so at all; would your imagination be able to create an original thought in order to deceive you? No… it would not be able to deceive like that.. upon agreeing with her we started leaving this reality for a intense journey, a journey which left more memory behind than any other journey before or after.
I was helped out of my body, something I had bin trying to achieve for quite a while but so far failed at. The presence reached out and grabbed my hand, literally pulling me along. Once again I found myself in the center of a circle of entities being judged by them. This time there was interaction however. I remember them being quite pleased with me, I was successfully battling my demons as far as alcoholism and blind consumerism go and my mind proved to be very flexible, almost unbreakable. When they found out I had released sexual tension by dry humping my matras while being half asleep, they became agitated with me and a feeling of rejection arose, upon which the most intense monologue I’ve ever held became fact. I told them yes I still have desires and wants, the strength of these are exactly that which give me my strength. I’m an human being led by passion, don’t you dare judge me negatively for it, embrace it as the positive trait it is. Silence was followed by a short discussion on their end and finally acceptance. I was told I was a chosen one, special beyond my own belief. I argued this could not be, live is not a Hollywood film where there are such things as chosen ones, being called a chosen one can only be my own ego trying to validate itself… calmly I was explained that the disbelieve that arises in you now must tell you your ego would never operate through such a path as it is too much in line with what you would want to be told to escape scrutiny and be integrated into your life. The ego deceives trough easily swallowed half-truths.  Immediately after that statement the experience started to unfold further. The feminne entity which had helped me out of my body took me by the hand once again and told me she was going to show it all to me.
We flew through an seemingly endless dark void, one I can only compare to that which I see when I look up at night toward the stars. It seemed like we were in space, passing barriers which reminded me of firewalls. They were like fences around cattle, not just to keep them where the farmer wants them, but also there to protect the cattle from harm caused by exploration of the unknown. Nine of these barriers were passed till we reached our destination, the all behind the veil.
As clear as the experience is in my memory, there is no recollection of what happened behind the veil; what ever resides there clearly escapes language as it is the undefined, that which is all and thereby has no contrast; the all that is as much everything as it is nothing.

The next trip that was truly remarkable was with yet another substance new to me, the LSA containing Hawaiian Baby Woordrose Seeds. The stories surrounding LSD always made me very curious about this drug even before I started my psychedelic journey. Unlike magic mushrooms wich only became interesting to me as my journey advanced. The notion of a purely natural form of LSD quickly made me want to jump into the LSA experience.

My first experience with LSA was that of the stubborn know-it-all. By now I had accumulated so much experience in hyperspace either trough smoking DMT or eating shrooms that I was quickly finding myself dismissing any information generated outside of my small circle. People really seemed to be in the dark when it came to psychedelics, and those we were dancing in the light came away with fantastical stories which seemed to me to have their root firmly placed in the imagination. Ignoring all the warnings about projectile vomiting and horrible muscle spasms I chewed my way through 10 HBWR seeds and swallowed them whole. My persistence upon encountering a awful bitter taste laying dormant in these seeds was only rewarded by exactly that which I had bin warned of.. projectile vomiting and horrible muscle spasms. When however by some miracle both of these symptoms left me alone for 5 minutes I got to enjoy a remarkably clear psychedelic headspace where enormous thought constructs could be traversed at incredible speeds, an excellent drug for someone who enjoys the psychedelic mindfuck more than random visuals. Now I am someone who never seems to remember his dreams but the night I ate the LSA seeds a weird dream unfolded which still persists within my memory. Upon losing my conscious in our reality I was transported to another world, a dark world defined by golden neon lights. Surfaces were only distinguishable by their borders emitting a golden neon light. I explored this new world endlessly, documenting everything I saw with a device I can only relate to as my mobile phone. Upon waking I feverishly tried to find the images on my phone, but of course none existed, what a werid experience!

After waiting patiently for two weeks I wanted to dive straight back in to the LSA experience. This time I did my homework a tad bit better and went for the sublingual route; I put the seeds in my mouth and started chewing them to a pulp being careful not to swallow any saliva formed in the process. The science behind this method of administration is that the LSA will be absorbed trough the tissues of your cheeks and tongue, much like a blotter, while the alkaloids causing most of the discomfort associated with LSA fail to enter the body. I started chewing the seeds when I went for a walk with the dogs, and managed to keep them in my mouth for the entire duration, lets say a good 60 minutes. By the time I came home and spat out the pulp I could already feel the LSA starting to effect my consciousness. Thoughts became deep yet scattered and strange, my head started to feel light and the buzzing in my ears rose a pitch or two. You often hear a feeling of love associated with LSD, the same goes for LSA I would say. Instead of turning myself totally inwards, not interested in my surroundings at all like shrooms tend to make me, I went on having great insightful conversations with my mother. Conversations which would greatly improve our relationship and my understanding of her world.

After about an hour maybe two of this, a pleasant, energetic, social and loving psychedelic headspace, the trip started deepening and I decided I should remove myself from external distractions and get to work, so I went to bed. Laying there with closed eyes a visual spectacle so chaotic it seemed like cosmic soup showed itself, slowly turning, changing and evolving till patterns seemed to emerge out of the chaos. Strong jolts of what seemed like electricity started shooting trough my spine, it was literally the best feeling in the world. Never had I experienced a sensation stronger, more unexpected and less controllable. After enjoying the visual grandeur and waves of energy for some time something in me made me want to smoke DMT, spice up this already fantastic trip and take things toward the uncharted territories only open to exploration by fearless fools.

Now what happened from that moment on is something I don’t quite understand, I can’t find the place where the sheer courage and stupidity resided with which I tackled the mystery…

I scooped a healthy glob of the orange DMT onto my dabber and started heating the titanium nail I used to vape it… a zillion thoughts ran through my mind at the time, what to expected.. what to even want from this experience…  however aborting the experience was not present within the storm raging through my skull. Having calmed my body and mind I go for one final exhale before taking in a huge hit of DMT. Immediately I’m hit by a force that makes the energy that passed trough my spine seem like a small breeze, a loud bang fades into fluctuating buzzing, tunnels beyond observation fill my vision, none of the usual colorful and playful character remained, just the void warping itself around me in order to propel my mind to places where it would be bend to the point of almost breaking. I passed through all barriers, all facades, every security measure or means of protection was breached; I reached the void. That were all is nothing, and nothing is all. All of reality unfolded before my eyes stripped of anything to obstruct it’s mechanisms of operation. It’s a trip that went far beyond the reach of words, it’s a trip I remember like nothing else I experienced, yet it’s very close to impossible to put the experience into words. The void holds no substance easily captured in language and therefor thought, the experience of the complete undefined wholeness cannot be defined; it’s much easier forgotten. And it’s not for no reason that it’s easier forgotten then defined, it is not to be defined, it can only be forgotten. So that’s what I did, totally forget the experience till I went back in. However I do remember coming back was a decision I made, not something that happened because my body broke down the DMT latching on to my serotonin receptor. I had to consciously make the choice to go back to the world my body resides in, yet this world had to be recreated before I could enter it. Constructed out of the endless memories our reality became more and more defined till I finally found myself back in my bed, breathing heavily whilst my mind was in utter chaos trying to find the words to describe the experience, yet only finding the space between the contrasting words anywhere nearly complex enough to describe the experience, yet language does not cover this imaginative space between the contrasting words.

And what a scare was it when I did go back in and started to remember! The next time I went into hyperspace it was definitely not in the same strong state of mind, the fearless condition instilled within me by not knowing where I was going. Immediately the previous experience came back into my memory in full force, and once again I remembered that which can only be forgotten, which has to be forgotten for life to work. A period wherin this phenomena repeated It self countless times over and over started. A period in wich I would totally forget the ultimate lesson DMT had given me, only to remember it’s only to be forgotten every time I touched the stuff.

For life is the entertainment of the source, but a game is best played when the borders are forgotten. When the immersion is so complete that the game replaces life, when mere rules become reality. Remembering the true nature of reality is like reading the last pages of a book when you start reading, it destroys the entire purpose of the middle part. The part where suffering and pleasure oscillate to the beat of the actions of the protagonist, the meat of any story where growth can occur. For if we were born with perfect lives in an perfect world it would be impossible to achieve growth, birth would only vacillate death; life would become boring filler between birth and death.

A mind bend so much out of shape I could no longer be sure it was not broken, sanity that went through so much insanity it was not sure it would ever be able to operate in the reality, our common socially accepted reality. At the time I did not even know whether I was alive, all I knew was that I was surfing upon a wave of euphoria which lasted for weeks. I played with different perspectives of reality, I knew it was different then what I had always blindly believed, yet I could not put my finger on the exact nature of reality, like something just around the corner it always escaped my grasp. I went from thinking I was experiencing a coma wherein psychedelics where the way to lucidity, to the door leading either to death or my wounded and mangled body laying in a hospital bed, to believing I was already death and psychedelics where the tool preparing me for the conclusion reached trough the act of dying. Both of these versions of reality where only enforced by a sense that I had received information, albeit beyond my ability to fully decode it, reserved for the death. A third explanation I spend a lot of time playing with is the notion we are in a simulation of sorts.

Within this concept of reality I’m the most important character, I’m the point of origin from where all is created. For life is nothing but an experience, an experience requires an observer and an observed. To create the illusion of not being alone in this experience, of course everything around me seems to be buzzing with life be it people, animals or nature. And of course they are buzzing with life, they are part of me as I am life. And they are not even that different from myself. All I can do Is react to my surroundings. The surroundings define the experience, for the experience of being alive is totally different when I’m out walking in the woods or when I’m sitting and talking with friends; the only constant in this is me, everything around me are variables acting upon my consciousness to create a certain outcome. Choice in this is at best a illusion; defined by the circumstances in which I operate which are directly a result of my surroundings, be it in the form of an echo from the past or a tremor from the future, the now is only shaped by variables. All I can do is experience these. When everything around me is controlled by my own actions, when the mirror always surrounds me; who is me? And who is you? When everything Is connected, where does the individual end and reality begin? The answer must be memory, for that is the only thing that separates us; for memory is the accumulation of past circumstances which have all had their input of which the output is you. The nature vs. nurture discussing may be closed, for both are different words for memory.
And when a decision is made, is it really a choice? Or the natural course directed by all the variables, external or internal. And do you even need to be conscious to react to these variables? We blindly assume animals aren’t conscious, not in any way similar to ourselves at least, yet they constantly react to the universe surrounding them. And why is the Ant hill considered nature, yet a housing block man made? What gives us the right to claim this creation which rises from nature? For if the planet peoples like apple trees apple so cleverly put by Alan Watts, then there is not distinction to be made. The housing block, chemical power plant or garbage dump is as natural as the ant hill, created by man not ant. The only difference  between these two is the scale at which we view them. For when we zoom out on society, step back from the constant bombardment of our senses, the everlasting rush towards the next desire, we may finally see we are nature.

For I ask; does the ant see itself as an individual or as a part of that which defines the colony?
Does an electron see itself as an individual or as a part of the definition of an atom?
Does an atom see itself as an individual or part of the definition of an molecule?
Does a molecule see itself as an individual or as part of the definition of matter?

All very interesting questions to which we’ll probably never know the answer; we can theorize however. For when one looks at things from a greater distance they all seem similar. Every object gets reduced to an dot as the relative size of the object decreases as compared to our capability of observation. Just listen to the people looking out of the window of an airplane that proclaim the little people look just like ants, scurrying about in an orderly fashion around their nest.

And how can finally beginning to understand reality feel so much like  being on the brink of insanity? How can being normal, acting like just another ant in the hill, become the standard we all seem to appreciate? How can wasting life be so much easier then fulfilling it? An entire population blinded by their desires, blindly following he who moves the slyest and shouts the loudest. Discussing how things should change, only to do the exact same everyone has done for ever; proclaiming it’s impossible. Following the ones that came before will only lead to what was achieved before. A path that starts with life and ends with death, with nothing but desires replacing met desires separating the two; lets change what we know by doing what we don’t understand. Let us just sit still, be overwhelmed by the sheer presence of the universe and let the thoughts flow in and out of you; the giggle can never become manic laughter if you don’t let it out. On this path doubt is the seed of destruction, when your own experience needs to be validated by the outside world.. you can no longer succeed!

The truth is our reality is way stranger than any fiction any human could think of. The truth is our reality is that there’s no reality, only insanity. Hence you end up in it when you let go of the socially accepted reality. Our reality is that everything is everything, everywhere all the time. The definition of things is always found in the deeper layer, which in itself is yet again defined by the layer beneath that. Each layer is its own universe that defines and shapes the next layer of complexity. The only way this can be is by being a simulation. A simulation called life can hardly have the purpose of being born just to die again. A simulation will always be made to find something, to understand something. What if our simulation is all about finding the defining layer, stepping out of the system and breaking it, finally reaching the next level. The only opponent in this is our own mind, everything beyond that are just circumstances, how important or benign they may be. Saying something is bad or good is nothing but our perception based on a flawed definition of life; it’s looking at the wrong layer. When you look beyond there’s only being, there’s only an experience to be had; a lesson to be learned; another layer of complexity added. For life is nothing but a set of circumstances for your soul to try and excel within. History is nothing but a set of past circumstances, I can’t see how others find significance in this. Those experimental conditions didn’t lead to brilliance that’s for sure, the evidence is in the present. Excelling within our current circumstances demands another way of looking at things. It demands a view which centers on the only layer that caries importance with it, the deepest layer where emotions give way to motivations. Everything happens for a reason, saying something is coincidence is not getting it. Why are you noticing it in the first place? What’s your motive for placing this singular event under the microscope to begin with? We are our own filters, everything you see gets it’s structure trough observation.

So what’s the difference between the atom and man when both are viewed from the same relative distance? I would like to argue there would be none. For both are agents of nature, agents of definition. Where the atom shapes the molecule, man shapes the earth. An earth which looks remarkably similar to an atom when this too is studied from the proper vantage point. An earth at a distance from its neighbors which is comparable to the distance between atoms in molecules and therefore matter. An earth circling a sun, circling within a galaxy; an earth doing all this guided by an unseen force we like to refer to as gravity. This suggests connections beyond our perception of the earth to it’s neighbors. This suggests to me that the earth is like the atom.

And this, to me, suggests man is like the atom, like the molecule, like the earth. Nothing but a layer in an endless system of complexity steered by unseen forces. On our scale we don’t call these forces gravity, we just call them “them or they”.










© Copyright 2018 Ozzy Plompen. All rights reserved.

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