Hello, I'm here to share an experience that has probably forever altered the way I view life, so here it is:

I fell backwards into a black tunnel and crashed into the back of my mind.

My vision looked like a cracked tv screen, with the reception teetering out. Every so often the screen would flicker, and my surroundings would change.

Well, my surroundings would stay the same: the shapes of the dark hotel room around me…but the presentation of that same “screen” would change.

First it looked like everything was chaotically colored in with crayon. Then, the broken screen would flicker again, and the furniture changed to bold pop art, like a Roy Lichtenstein painting. The screen kept flickering and the style of my surroundings kept changing.

All the while “System Broken” was flashing on my screen.

I was scared. I felt nothing. Not my body. Not the air around me. Not the subtle pulls of gravity or even the clothes against my skin. It was like everything had melted away and I was suspended in nothingness.

I thought I had died. For a while I tried to pull my mind back up to my body, but it felt impossible. I was also interested to see what was down below, so I conceded to the darkness. For a few seconds there was nothing. Game over.

Bright lights came next, and I was in a clean white room.

It felt clinical, like a physician’s office. I sat on a bed, looked across the room and saw the same monitor screen from earlier. My monitor screen. “System Broken” was still flashing.

What came next were things that I’m not sure if I saw or heard directly, but that I just understood and recognized as the truth.

There was a glowing green light in my peripheral. It was a male presence. It did not feel kind or unkind, just professional—and familiar.

The monitor screen—my monitor—had been shut down and was in the process of being rebooted.

The next thing I remember is standing next to the glowing green presence in a vast open space filled with darkness. There was nothing above or below me. It felt infinite.

Here, I saw things I had never seen before. Shapes, sizes, colors, textures, all in various combinations of one another.

It was as though all of my senses had melded together. The darkness was filled as far as I could see, taste, smell, and touch. I don’t know how else to explain it, but to say that I was surrounded by “everything.”

All of these different sensory components stood individually against this infinite black space. But they also extended back and forward in time. They would turn and shift and spin and grow.

I understood that they were all pieces of data that were being collected, measured, recorded.

One carried the rate that my eyelashes are growing at this exact moment, as well as every past moment and every future moment. The diameter of each lash, the color, brittleness, moisture, spacing. All of that information was contained here. Everything was brightly colored. It felt warm, happy, and inviting.

I got the sense that this “room,” this “space,” held everything I am, was, or will be. I remember wondering if this was just my “personal data set” or if it contained the records and projections of everything in the world.

In that split second, I was transferred to another similarly vast and open darkness. I knew it was for a single large oak tree in the middle of a forest. I saw the same countless measurements, the same infinite calculations, all in warm and glowing green hues. It didn’t have the same whimsical colors or shapes. It felt older and more somehow significant than “my room.” I knew it had been—and would be—around for much longer.

Next, I was escorted to a command center of sorts. I remember seeing seats that were turned to face another vast darkness. I first thought that we were sailing through space, but it looked as though the floor to ceiling windows opened up to “my world,” “my consciousness.”

The green light and I walked through what felt like a testing facility. I didn’t see them directly, but felt that there were more glowing green beings that were analyzing my everyday past actions. When an “appropriate response” was made, the “me” in the screen was rewarded with lots of little hearts and bursts of warmth and happiness: dopamine points. Every success and failure in this “game” had a precise chemical feedback.

I didn’t get the sense that someone was choosing my actions in the testing facility, but rather that my actions were being evaluated and measured.

I’m not sure if the glowing green light told me this, but I understood that I should have a life that was worth watching. If I just went through all of the same moments each and every day, then there would be nothing new to calculate. In the vastness of my data sets and records, I also got the sense that each and every possible scenario of my life would be played out: it is up to me to decide which version of my life I want to be present for.

At this moment I saw that “my evaluation room”—“my data set”—was something that I could always access. If my mind is a house, this area is through the cellar door; I just need to go out the back and down the stairs in order to find it. It’s part of the same building, but has a separate entrance. You just have to know where to go.

We—the glowing green light and I—were back in the “physician’s office”. It was almost time for me to go back. My system had crashed, and now it was nearly done rebooting. Everything was being re-uploaded back into my mind. All of my original code. Back to where I had just come from.

It felt like being reborn. I came rushing through the canal that I had fallen down and back into the hotel room. Nothing made sense to me at first. I didn’t recognize the shapes or sounds around me.

First, I heard noises. Then, I recognized them as my voice. I grasped my ability to make those noises. And finally, I began to understand what they meant.

The things around me started to make sense. I could feel the newly rebooted programs start to connect the dots within my mind. Data was being processed and algorithms were being performed. I began to be able to identify colors and recognize shapes.

Things seemed less real than they had just a few moments before. The things I saw and felt had appeared more vivid than I had ever experienced, which made this moment, this “reality” somehow seem less real.

I’m still processing.

Hi there,

You got the green on your first time, too, eh?

Answers. I'm not sure we'll be able to offer "answers."

I haven't seen the green since - at least not in the form which it was first presented. I had been told that the DMT I had been given was allegedly synthesized rather than extracted. After that initial gift, I've only consumed DMT that was extracted by either myself or one close friend. I've found that each person seems to put their own little twist into the molecule.

For instance, I have an experience report that I posted a few months after my first break through (it was the written recollection of my first break through). Similar to yours, kinda.... I think mine felt more organic than mechanical... if mechanical at all?

I started extracting after that, and it had a generally organic feel. I gave some bark to the guy who gave me the first dose... and he extracted and gave me some of his extract. Until then, I had been using my extracts... but it seemed like I'd had a minor blockage. The DMT i was extracting didn't seem to produce much effect. So, I gave him some of the very same bark that I had been using, and said, "here yah go. I dunno, I'm not getting many effects from my own; maybe you'll have better luck."

A few days later he came over and offered some that he'd extracted. We had almost the reverse issue - I'd get great yields, but had little effect on me. Worked fine for others... but not me. He had a poor yield, but still wanted to give me a little.

Enter technology. So, I was expecting minimal effects, but loaded my normal dose and took the puff. It was new? What the hell??? Where were the plants or leaves that I'd usually pass through? (An image of a leaf would appear, and i'd stare at for a few moments until I could identify a single cell that was the "path in." )

Instead, there were mechanical parts - seemingly like someone had taken an old dumpster of computer pieces and poured the contents off a cliff. I was somewhere between the top and the bottom, and I was watching the parts zip past. Finally, I "picked one" and "went in."

Once inside, (it was very mechanical) it was as if I was watching the age of industrial revolution. Mechanisms were erected and built, then adjusted, then changed, then adjusted some more. I watched with astonishment - due to never having an experience that suggested any kind of machinery. After watching the rise and the fall, I eventually came back "home" (the body).

I began wondering if this influence had anything to do with his personal intentions when extracting - unlike me, he loves technology and computers. I was indifferent towards technology. My opinion is: it's a tool. I don't find that technology is near as fascinating as nature. But, I didn't extract that batch. He did.

So, I wondered if I was still locked out of my own extractions. I wasn't. I was able to enter, again. But, it never went back to a pure organic feeling. It had now... "evolved?"



Anyways, if the green fella gave you a task, or mission, did you accept? If so... prepare.

Take Care,
ACY


Opps! I almost forgot. Bonus vote towards promotion of full membership. You took the time to write a very in-depth description. It reminded me of.... my own experience... in a way.