DOSE:	3 hits	smoked	DMT	(powder / crystals)
	3 hits	smoked	Cannabis	(flowers)

BODY WEIGHT:

160 lb

"The walls were breathing, and I was dying. Or maybe I was being born. I couldn’t tell anymore."

It was 2009, my freshman year at college in Tempe, Arizona, a time of self-discovery, new friendships, and a bit of reckless curiosity. College life swept me up like a desert whirlwind, and I quickly found myself surrounded by a group of adventurous friends. Together, we explored everything: late-night conversations that stretched into dawn, music that seemed to rewrite reality, and the occasional mind-expanding trip through weed, mushrooms, and LSD. Psychedelics weren’t just a pastime; they were a fascination. I was hooked on the mysteries they promised to unveil. But there was one substance that always lingered at the edges of our conversations, whispered about with a mix of awe and trepidation: DMT. They called it the “spirit molecule,” a gateway to other dimensions, an experience that could reveal the very fabric of existence.

One night, during one of our usual long conversations beneath the warm, golden glow of dorm room string lights, I confessed a thought that had been haunting me for years: “Do you think we’re just... gone when we die? Like, just a switch that flips?” I hesitated, then added, “Or do you think we go somewhere else, become someone else?”

Kyle leaned back on the couch, strumming his guitar absentmindedly. His answer was casual, but it lodged itself in my mind like a splinter. “Maybe you don’t figure it out until you’ve crossed over.” Crossed over. The phrase stuck with me, both haunting and thrilling.

For me, curiosity wasn’t just a passing feeling. It was an itch that had to be scratched. And this time, I needed to know. A week after my conversation with Kyle, I reached out to a friend known for his knack for creating these mystical concoctions and asked if he could make some DMT for me. He didn’t hesitate.

A warm Saturday afternoon arrived, and my dorm room transformed into something sacred. Three of my closest friends gathered, not to join me, but to bear witness. They circled me like curious but uneasy spectators. Kyle sat cross-legged on the floor, picking at his guitar strings. The notes were disjointed, clashing in the air like a broken melody. Rachel perched on my desk chair, her knee bouncing anxiously, the fabric of her jeans twitching under her restless hand. Jake was the stillest, seated on the couch. His eyes kept flicking between me and the pipe in my hand, as if trying to silently measure the distance between the known and the unknowable.

The room was a mess, a collage of college life: open textbooks, half-empty bags of chips, discarded socks. But we had created a tiny island of focus, arranging the space with care. Sunlight flooded through the window, turning the chaos into a strange, golden still life. I prepared the pipe with an almost religious reverence, grinding my best weed and sprinkling the precious DMT crystals on top. The crystals shimmered faintly in the sunlight, fragile yet powerful, as though they carried the secrets of the universe within them.

“Just breathe slow,” Kyle murmured. I nodded. The pipe felt heavy in my hands, as if it held the weight of everything I didn’t know. My heart pounded like a war drum in my chest, and every instinct screamed at me to stop. But curiosity swallowed fear. I had to do this. I took a deep breath, lit the mixture, and inhaled.

The first hit burned. Bitter, acrid, like scorched plastic. I coughed hard, my lungs protesting, but my friends urged me to try again. The second inhale was smoother. Deeper. Heavier. The room started to shift, the sunlight thickening into golden syrup. My skin prickled. The third hit hit me like a freight train. The room was gone.

The walls oozed like molten wax, their surfaces unraveling into waves of violent reds, electric blues, and greens that pulsed as if alive. My blanket wasn’t fabric anymore; it twisted and warped, its fibers turning into veins of pure color, breathing, heaving like a living organism. A low hum filled the air, vibrating through me. It wasn’t sound, it was something deeper, like the universe itself humming a song too old for human ears to hear. The hum swelled, deepened, and surged into a deafening roar, like a windstorm tearing through the fabric of reality. Not wind. A force. Invisible. Relentless. It yanked me backward, out of myself. My body was gone. I was weightless, untethered, falling. No, not falling. Being pulled.

A tunnel opened in front of me, vast and dark and endless. Its edges shimmered, alive with fractals that spiraled and twisted into infinity. I tried to scream, but my voice didn’t exist. Panic surged. “I’m dying.”

My thoughts tumbled, frantic, desperate. “This is it. My friend gave me the wrong drug, and I’m going to die. My parents, what will they think? My mom, she’ll be so upset. I didn’t even get to say goodbye to my brother and sister.”

The tunnel consumed me, pulling me into its infinite depths without mercy or pause. And then, suddenly, the fear vanished. It melted, like ice under a blazing sun. I drifted weightlessly, untethered, and for the first time, truly free. My body was gone, and with it, every worry, every fear, every part of the “me” I thought I was. I looked down and saw myself, my physical form lying limp on the bed. Jake’s hand hovered near my shoulder, his mouth open, caught in a half-formed question.

Rachel whispered something to Kyle, her lips trembling. I should have felt panic, but instead, I felt peace. A quiet, profound peace that spread through me like warm light. That body isn’t me anymore, I thought. And just like that, I let go. The peace carried me into the void. Endless. Infinite. It wasn’t dark; it was full, alive, humming with energy. Shapes materialized, geometric, perfect, fractals that spiraled infinitely, folding and multiplying in patterns too vast and intricate for the limits of my mind to grasp.

Then came the light. It started as a pinprick in the distance, faint and unassuming. But it grew rapidly, devouring the void. Blinding. Consuming. The light pulled me in. Faster. Harder. I hurtled toward it, a comet flung across the universe. And in a single, brilliant flash, I passed through.

On the other side, the void gave way to a space both alien and familiar. The walls shimmered, white, sterile, but alive with faint fractal patterns that pulsed and shifted beneath their surface. The air felt sharp and electric, humming with energy, as if the room itself was breathing. In front of me stood a figure cloaked in white. Her gown flowed like liquid light, and her mask and protective eyewear glinted, reflecting shapes that didn’t belong to this world. She moved with precision, yet her presence felt impossibly gentle, almost sacred. She wasn’t just a doctor. She was a midwife. The realization slammed into me with the force of a tidal wave. I’m being born.

Grief overtook me. I sobbed, raw and inconsolable. I had died. I had left everything behind: my family, my friends, my entire life. The weight of it was unbearable. The midwife lifted me gently, her gloved hands impossibly steady, and handed me to a woman. My new mother. She was radiant, tears streaming down her face. Her smile was warm, welcoming. But to me, she was a stranger. This wasn’t my family. This wasn’t my life. I wailed, thrashing in protest, grief pouring out of me like a broken dam. Then, she placed me on her chest. Her warmth enveloped me, soothing the storm inside. I could hear her heartbeat steady, strong, and unshakable. The rhythm calmed me, each beat an anchor.

“Everything is going to be alright,” she whispered, her voice impossibly soft. “Mommy’s here.” The grief dissolved. My crying slowed. Peace crept back in, wrapping me in its embrace. I closed my eyes, surrendering completely.

The next thing I knew, I was back in my dorm room. The return wasn’t a jolt but a slow, seamless drift; like emerging from the depths of a dream, only to find yourself in a world that felt both familiar and foreign. I blinked, my vision sluggishly adjusting to the dorm room around me. The air felt heavy, thick with the residue of something I couldn’t name. My chest rose and fell as I took in each breath, my lungs reacquainting themselves with the rhythm of being alive. The soft hum of instrumental music tethered me, its gentle notes weaving reality back together.

The sunlight through the window regained its weight, grounding me in a reality that no longer felt entirely my own. My friends hovered close, their faces a mosaic of awe and relief. Kyle’s hand trembled slightly as he passed me a glass of water, his voice cautious.

“What did you see?” I stared at him, the weight of what I’d experienced settling into me like a stone at the bottom of a river. I shook my head slowly, a faint, inexplicable smile tugging at my lips.

“Everything.”

Exp Year: 2009	ExpID: 118625
Gender: Male
Age at time of experience: 19
Published: Apr 18, 2025	Views: 15
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Cannabis (1), DMT (18) : Small Group (2-9) (17), Personal Preparation (45), Guides / Sitters (39), Entities / Beings (37), Mystical Experiences (9), Glowing Experiences (4), First Times (2)