[[Hey all, it's been awhile since I posted here but I typed up an experience report for another forum I frequent and thought I'd share it here as well. I apologize for the use of language, if requested I'll edit out the curse words. But I wanted to leave it intact as I wrote it the first time and the other forum is pretty lax about that stuff.

Also it's worth noting that the below was done without a sitter, which I realize in hindsight was very dumb. Before this I never saw the potential for physical harm from DMT use but now I do.]]

About a week ago I smoked some DMT. I was bored and loaded my pipe pretty heavily. I still wanted that 'breakthrough' experience I'd heard so much about, the other worldly, out of body shit you know.

So I sat down on my bed and took a medium sized hit. As it washed over me I relaxed into it and debated taking another one but decided just to be with the experience. I thought about love, as this inclusive thing. I watched two types of patterns play out across my bedroom furniture, one flowing and gentle, the other sporadic and chaotic. I liked the flowing gentle ones better and tried to push the sporadic ones away but my train of thought led back to love being inclusive and I tried not to fight things and just let everything be.

After I came down a little bit I contemplated smoking more. Terrance McKenna's rant about one hour tolerance echoed in my head and I had to push this aside. I asked myself if I really needed this and decided that I wanted to know what it was everyone was talking about, I wanted to understand the hype.

So I hit the pipe again, I hit it as hard as I could without burning the DMT. As my lungs filled I knew this was the one, like when you take a big hit of weed and you know that's going to be the one to put you on your ass. As I finished I closed my eyes and held my breath...

I felt like I was falling backwards, into my mind but at the same time flying into... everything. All concepts began to break down. Contrasts disappeared. I felt like I'd been here before had always been here and that it was love that I was experiencing and that love was everything. There was a presence, something guiding, warm and welcoming.

I remembered vaguely that I was supposed to do something. That I needed to exhale and relax (this is what I do on the DMT come up). And I did exhale but I didn't relax... instead I panicked. I don't know how or why. I went from this state of experiencing the everything that was love into a state of feeling that *I* had died. Because in a way I guess I had died, the concept which was me had been swallowed up for a moment by this 'everythingness'.

I opened my eyes, trying to escape. But of course I couldn't. I was deep in the throws of a total DMT mindfuck. I looked at my hands and I barely recognized them. The DMT was in me, like a foreign alien entity that had taken over. The concept of hands barely existed but I knew something was wrong, that these things that were supposed to be mine had been taken over and lost. I stared at them and turned them over trying to understand what had happened. Alien green crystalline structures covered my flesh and my lighter and my pipe blinked in and out of space and time, as though my hands, the pipe, and the lighter, all shared one space and needed to oscillate through time in order to exist (perhaps my brain was only capable of understanding one thing at a time at this point).

The pipe managed to catch and register and I realized I had died. That the pipe had somehow managed to kill me and that it was in a spot that my son might find it in the morning. A sense of dread overwhelmed me followed by more panic. I was dead and I needed to somehow protect my son from this shit, to make sure it didn't kill him too. A sense of responsibility arouse and with that thoughts of my wife and her love followed by thoughts of my family, my mom, dad, brothers and sister. Somehow this was my whole way out and I managed to relax.

When I did it was like being reborn. Like I was birthed into the warm love of the universe. I looked around my room and every object had a spiritual counter part attached to it. My TV for instance had a three dimensional spirit that came out towards me, away from itself, and it was alive, docile, but happy. My bed was warm and alive, cradling me in its love. My entire room was filled with these spirit object and I had the distinct impression that this was how life really is, that I'd been sleeping my whole life and had just woke up. It was beautiful, life was beautiful.

Then I remembered I'd smoked some DMT and pretty much as soon as this thought entered my head the spirits departed. I lay on my bed for a good fifteen or twenty minutes trying to figure out what the fuck just happened before deciding to get up and relate the story to my brother on facebook IM.

awesome story!

Really enjoyed this

I've had the animistic trip of every object having a spirit. Even inanimate or electronic ones.