I've had four good hits on the bong. The first two took me to heaven, the third to hell and the fourth back to heaven. First three were in the space of an hour, the fourth was a few weeks later, on top of a night out clubbing fuelled by Mandy.
I spent the next four weeks doing my best to keep on top of my sanity. I have been gifted ('gifted'...haha) the ability to break reality down into pieces the size of grains of sand. I don't expect that to make much sense, anymore than anyone can ever adequately describe a DMT experience without the aid of empathic telepathy. Needless to say, I don't want the gift. It goes unappreciated. I'm sure it's a wonderful tool and maybe somebody with a huger psyche than mine would be able to make good use of it. But for me it's a short ride off a shorter pier into an abyss of madness. Four weeks spent trying to close the door, I figure I've just about got it nailed now.
I seriously doubt I'll be able to do acid again, but hey ho. I don't regret the DMT, if I'd never had the opportunity I'd have always been wondering. But bugger me, I'm not sure exactly what it was I saw, I reckon my mind has self-defended itself by burying the memory, but the 'gift' remains and I have to live with that for the rest of my life. Hopefully well secured in it's little room.
Anyway, I thought I'd share my experience with you fine fellows. Let it serve as an enducement or a warning, whichever suits the individual as he comes.
