Original date of writing 6/28/2018, Edited on 7/1/2018 for grammar and coherency
I am a 43 year old woman with no children, business owner, tax payer, and I experienced my first DMT trip about 3 days ago. I have had some previous experience with hallucinogenics in my youth, e.g. the hand full of mushrooms or a tiny square of paper at a concert in the woods here and there nothing major, nor hardly profound.
To start, I had an extremely close friend (the kind that knows all your deep darkies) who had already been through the journey a number of times as my “baby sitter”. What a fucking trooper this guy is, I must say... The method we chose was a combination of legal herb extracts in resin and liquid forms, in a measured/timed and tested dosage. I will not give the names of the herbs but they can be found very easily on ebay.
It took about an hour for it to begin to work. The first thing that hit me were little neon colored mandalas that turned into counter spinning concentric circles with incredibly important looking sigils in blazing script around the inner ring, that were probably highlighted like that so that I could remember them. I did not... Because too soon after that, the nausea hit me and the entire world came the fuck apart.
I got myself to the bedroom and next to something to yack into, laid there, fine... I opened my inner eyes to the things in front of me when I closed my eyelids. Incorporeal beings, thoughts, and whole universes came and went past me at breakneck speed. I understand what a “thought form” really is now.
At a point I found myself in gloomie twilight, standing in front of a regular old bedroom door. The thought booming in my head was “if you do this nothing is going to be the same”.
I opened the door anyway.
Standing there in front of me in the form of my parents, was an entire lifetime of self loathing. Every single act of self destructive behavior, through the years. Just looming over me, shining a light of reality over the filth and abuse I have subjected myself to. All of it, all at once. Forty Three years of continuous and progressive self abuse. I saw the creature I could become if I continued on my path. A sorry filthy thing truly and completely alone in the world subsisting off of refuse and cast away from society.
And then I purged. In the real world I was dry heaving uncontrollably into a bedside trashcan,
but when I shut my eyes I was vomiting a thick black oily mass into an immeasurably fast moving universe, of unnameable colors, in indescribable shapes. It felt as if I was ridding my body of horrible creature made of regret and self deprecation. It also felt necessary. Yes it was absolutely necessary. It was incredibly painful, beyond simple vomiting. It was an emptying out of the soul an absolutely uncontrollable, involuntary, emptying out of the soul.
At some point I was on my knees in front of my child-self while she showed me all of the debaucherous and demoralizing things I have allowed myself to take part in. I saw myself spiralling down into the pits of hell just to hear someone tell me they love me.
I could do nothing but beg her for forgiveness.
I sat on my bedroom floor crying at invisible baby Bonnie's feet and all I could say was “I am so sorry that I fucked this all up. I am a fuck up. I let them hurt you, I am so sorry.”
And then I vomited black tar into that high speed universe again.
My sitter tells me I apologized for a great many things in between dry heaves. I'm sure I did. Bless his pure heart, There is nothing like a little high concept sci fi rigmarole to pull your ass back down into reality!
I am guessing that my “peak” moment was that point when I lost track of being “Bonnie” all together. I laid there with my eyes closed, space and time meaningless, watching a thousand thought forms fly past me, as the world and existence at large fell away and for a while everything was a single “thing” and it wasn't terrible.
Then I thought about it too much and it hit me “well this is reality now, you purposely broke your own reality, and now your stuck here ” I'm told I laid there, still and sweating for an hour and a half while I murmured the words “I fucked up!! I fucked this whole thing up!” a few too many times.
There was a long stretch of darkness before I heard my mother's voice. It came at me from all directions and from a thousand mouths. She/they were saying “why the fuck do you keep doing this to yourself, why do you have to constantly be on the edge of self destruction? Why can't you just Open your eyes, hike up your bra, and stop pitying yourself!!”and then they were screaming at me OPEN YOUR EYES BITCH!!! OPEN YOUR FUCKING EYES!!! she said so much more but it's personal and shitty... I remember screaming ALRIGHT FINE but before I could comply I started heaving again.
I was purging from the deepest parts of my inner being. Holy fuck it was so god damned painful. Every part of my being was being emptied out into the passing cosmos, all of the horror and self hate, every single reckless act, was being vomited up from my soul and thrown into unreality. It was what a christian might want you to believe being “born again” feels like,but fucking real, necessary, and not at all pleasant in any way. When I was finished heaving I sat there horrified and sweating for what seemed like half of forever, until I heard my sitter say “Hey Bon, can you open your eyes?”...
I opened my eyes. Oh god damn I opened my eyes!
It was not over! Nope! The light hit me, “reality hit me full on in the face, I lost control of my senses, and there was so much more purging, this time it was into the reality of a little green bedside trashcan with my sitter holding my hair back as he reassures me with “you're okay”. I recall saying “nope” and “I understand now, I fucked up this whole god damned life, I get it, please make it stop” repeatedly between heaves.
He sat me up, dried the sweat from my hair, and made me drink some water. I sat there listening to him talk about politics and conspiracy theories and found my way back down into the reality of the bedroom floor. I am told that I alternated between heaving and crying for about an hour before I was calm again. At the 10 hour mark I was as close to “back to reality” as I am going to be at this point.
I got up, washed the dishes, fed the cats, cleaned up after them, and made breakfast for my Sitter. As I said in the beginning of this, it has been a few days and I am still left looking back at it in terrified awe. It is fucking horrifying when you are faced head on with a life time of regret, and self loathing, but god damn it feels like it was necessary for me to go through the journey. I have no idea what the future will be, but it isn't going to be that grotesque creature I saw beyond the first door.
Side note: DMT is NOT a recreational drug. It should be stated that those with a history of deep trauma may encounter remnants of said trauma while partaking. Be sure to have an experienced “sitter” who knows you well enough to talk you back into reality if needed. Never “trip” alone.