Let me start by saying that I know this post will be censored into oblivion and I will undoubtedly be banned from this forum, but I don’t give a shit. I’ve just emerged from the most hellish 5 hours of my existence, and I need to get these fucking demons out of my head.
Here’s the first part of my story if you give a shit to read it:
https://www.dmt-nexus.me...aspx?g=posts&t=67052For my second and so-called “successful” experience, I did mostly the same things, except I used 5 mg. Syrian Rue seeds for the MAOI and I didn’t do the egg tek for tannin removal. Only hours later would I realize the peril of this fuck up. Other than that, it means that my research was thorough and my theories about preparation were correct, so FUCK YOU to all the condescending assholes who spoke to me as though I am a two-year-old child.
For “Round 2,” I consumed the 5 mg. seeds and an amount of “brew” equivalent to 10 grams ACRB powder, and I lay in bed in eager anticipation. I glanced at my alarm clock - 10:29 PM. “Oh! SNL is about to start.” That would be my last pleasant thought of the night.
I’ll skip the rest of the bullshit and get to what all the arrogant “psychonaut” asshole wannabes on this site want to read. “It was the most beautiful, transcendent experience of my life...”
Except it wasn’t. FUCK YOU, Terrence McKenna! You lying sack of shit! Sure, it starts that way - geometric shapes, rainbow colors, blah, blah, cliche', cliche'. It’s beautiful until I begin to feel the nausea. I don’t know if it’s because of the brew, or because I’m getting dizzy from all the flashing, dancing geometric shapes filling my vision.
I lean over the edge of the bed and try to vomit, but because I’ve had nothing to eat for 10 hours, I can only dry-heave. After a few moments of this, the nausea passes. I lay back in bed hoping the worst is over, but my nightmare is only beginning.
What I recall most clearly are the people, the so-called “helpful spirits.” There are hundreds, thousands of them. The walk past me in the opposite direction as though I am walking the wrong way on a one-way sidewalk. Their eyes are closed and they don’t speak to me, don’t acknowledge me. “Hello? Can you see me? Can you hear me? Why won’t you talk to me? You’re supposed to be here to help me. You’re supposed to welcome me.”
Then, it begins. As if in response, they all turn to me at once and start screaming. There are so many of them that I can’t make out what any of them are saying, but the sound is deafening. They aren’t touching me, not hitting me, but their words - the words, they burn like lashes against my flesh. The pain is like nothing that can be described in simple words. God, now I sound like McKenna preaching his “language barrier” bullshit.
Finally, the people go quiet and disappear like ghosts vanishing into the ether. What comes now is a flood of memories - childhood memories, school memories, family memories, painful memories. NO! They’re gone! They’re forgotten! They’re buried! But here they are again - the stepfather, the school bully, the girl who stood me up for prom. The high school dropout parents lecturing me to study hard and get good grades. Oh SHIT, a fucking “B” on my report card. Now I’m in trouble. Make it fucking STOP!
I begin to feel sick again, but the brew has worked its way through my stomach and into my intestines. I stumble into the bathroom feeling more drunk than I’ve ever felt in my life, and make it to the toilet just in time for my bowels to explode.
After several explosions, the nausea passes, and I collapse off the toilet onto the bathroom floor. Beside me, in the water closet, I see the litter box for my two feline companions - presently banished to the living room for the night, lest they interrupt this transcendent fucking experience. I speak to the turds in the bottom of the litter box, beseeching them, “Please let me die and be finished with this. Please let it end!”
I become aware of a dryness in my mouth like I’ve never experienced before. My tongue fills my mouth and feels like a thick terrycloth towel desperately wanting to absorb moisture. Only, there is none. No matter how much I try, I cannot muster a single drop of saliva.
A thought enters my head. My salvation! A bottle of glacially-harvested Artesian water presently perched upon the kitchen table. God, what kind of snob am I to buy that shit? I long for it, but the few steps walk from my current prostrate location to the kitchen feels like the distance from one edge of the universe to the other.
After what feels like an eternity, as I’ve done many times in the past after a night of binge drinking, I pick myself up off the bathroom floor and manage to stumble back into bed. After a while, it seems the worst part is over. My cognition slowly returns. I glance at the clock - 1:24 AM. I’ve been in Hell 4 hours less 5 minutes.
A while longer, and I feel noticeably better. I stumble out of the bedroom into the living area. My existence still feels surreal. I see my two furry friends, at least I think I see them. Is this real, or am I still in the Nexus? I greet them by name, and they come to me purring and doing figure 8’s around my ankles. Finally, some semblance of normalcy. Comfort.
Ah! My water. A take it and drink half he bottle in a single gulp. The giant terrycloth towel on my mouth is at least partially quenched.
I clamber to my makeshift computer room. I need to purge, to get the demons out of my head. If I don’t do it now, I’ll forget. But they won’t really be forgotten. They will just be buried - buried but always lurking just beneath the surface.
I begin to type when another wave of nausea hits me. SHIT! It’s still not over. The water has given my stomach something to expel. I make it to the tile surface of the hallway and retch. Hmm, I hope the stomach acid doesn’t fuck up the shiny finish on the tile. I retch again, and again, and again.
The cats are now glaring at me. I’m reminded of all the times I’ve gotten angry and yelled at them for eating their food too quickly and regurgitating it. “See? Now you know how it feels, you fucker!”
Finally, I begin to feel normal again. It’s 2:38 AM - 5 hours plus 9 minutes in Hell. I need to type. I need to purge. La Purga. This is it. Not the vomiting. This is La Purga.
Finally, I am finished. I feel as though a tremendous weight has been lifted. As though I’ve been to confession and been absolved of all my sins.
The events of the night are already a fading memory. Only now, does a final thought come to mind. Was this mind-shattering, reality-altering experience the death of my ego? Was it some sort of initiation or trial by fire that now allows me to enter the Nexus? I will never know. I promised the cat turds I would never do this again, and I will keep that promise.
Farewell.