Quote:my room felt like a temple
i feel you on that man.
your experience seems like a good solid example of smoking dmt. subsequent trips should become more lucid and coherent. as far as, 'did i break through', for me there is always a sudden emotional and sensory hyper-arousal following the clear conclusion of a spiraling train of thought that finally reaches the center.
during the spiral, entities, multiplex personalities, thoughts, images, problems, doubts, fears, reptile-brain ideas, archetypes, beliefs, conditionings, knowledge, etcetera, all seem to come after me, each with their own seductions and confrontations. my advice is to cut them apart with analysis, with infinite doubt and mistrust. absolute unyielding critical opposition to even the most glorious sights you will see... because what you spiral toward is something which it has never even once occurred to you to doubt. there is no substitute.
a good analogy would be when 'the embodiment of evil' who 'clothes himself in light' to look good (but lies) tempted jesus with all sorts of wonders that seemed so grand, and jesus passed the test by holding firmly to 'the source of all good'.
this is why i call dmt 'the eye of the needle', as in, it is harder for a rich man (someone whose (center of the spiral) is covered in junk and trinkets and cheap souvenirs - false mental wealth) to get to heaven (breakthrough) then it is to put a camel through the eye of a needle. you only truly possess what it is you carry with you at all times.
it may take you awhile to navigate this path successful, because dmt takes everything away from you. no one to help you here, no pity or excuses, 99% is a failing grade. only infinite resolve will work. to be truly willing to give everything
(incidentally this is the meaning of my screen name - clamp or vice grip)
its hard to talk about the other side. it will fade and life will continue as it was before. it will be bitter-sweet as you feel the everyday crowd start to darken the inner Sun again, but you can never forget what you're made of. and you can't be on dmt all the time. the streets are once again paved with mud, but you remember dancing in them with golden feet.