DOSE:

80 mg

IM

DPT

BODY WEIGHT:

195 lb

After a previous disappointing experiment with DPT, I was able to coax the crystals into dissolving better into the injection solution by warming up the solvent (0.9% NaCl sterile solution) before adding it. I decided to try again, using 2mL of the solution, which had a concentration of around 40-50 mg/ml at best estimate. 1 mL of solution injected into the left deltoid proved to be fairly uncomfortable, so I switched up and injected the other mL into the right deltoid. The DPT was already beginning to come on by the time I injected into the right arm, not very noticeably, but enough to make me think I was finished injecting before I had even started.

At about T+:08, I noted a strong feeling of onset, consisting of a mild throbbing in the head and general wooziness. I remarked to myself that it reminded me of the onset phase of IM ketamine, only not as fast. The first real effects came in the form of inability to do math, as I was trying to explain to someone how much I had dosed. A few minutes after that, I started noticing that the objects in my room seemed to have ants crawling around under the surface, and the walls looked wavy. Next were deep purple swirly blobs around the outside of my vision that reminded me of watching milkdrop, a winamp visualization.

Next thing I knew, I was being thrust into some sort of multi-dimensional, brightly colored space. At this point I was rather dissociated, and had no awareness of my surroundings. The bright colors continued to fold inward on themselves, making interesting, non-symmetrical arrangements of triangles, then tetrahedra, then other shapes. Suddenly I felt very happy, at great peace with myself and the universe, and felt that I understood what one of my friends had been describing from taking mushrooms. I then felt that I was experiencing every possible experience there ever was and ever would be, all at once. Surprisingly enough, this complete set of experience seemed to lack any negatives. Perhaps they were there, but I simply counted experiencing them as a positive thing. Some time later, I came out of this space and found myself back in my room, and reported to him that I knew exactly what he had been talking about.

At this point, the room started folding in on itself in a similar fashion as the color-space. Particularly distorted was my keyboard, which suddenly felt like it had taken on the shape of a sine wave. I noted that typing was quite difficult, and felt like I was having to reach around a corner and do it with my eyes closed. I came under the impression that the distortion was caused by the keyboard existing merely in three-dimensional space (two-dimensional really, as it has no heighth) while my body was existing in some sort of hyperdimensional space.

A few seconds later, I was thrust into another strange space, but whereas the color-space felt like I was experiencing, this space felt like I was watching. At first, this space was quite chaotic. I felt like I was in the middle of a nuclear explosion that continually re-detonated. As could be imagined, this was quite unsettling. Perhaps a better analogy would be being tossed about by a series of waterfalls, and not being able to get up for air. At some point, I did finally 'surface' enough to note that I had seen something to do with the Universe (not in the sense of outer space, but in the sense of the set of everything there is), and that it was presented as fractals. I then was sucked back under for another round of chaos, and repeated the process many times, but each time it seemed to slow down a bit. I was able to stay 'up' for longer in between, and the chaos seemed a little bit less wildly random.

After about two minutes of this, with every plunge into chaos seeming like an eternity, I realized that the rhythm of my breathing was having a great effect on the trip. The first thing I noticed was that the music I had on (a very nice Ferry Corsten trance set) slowed when I inhaled, and sped back up when I exhaled. From there I realized that the sounds of the music seemed linked to my thought patterns. The music had looped sounds that would come in at different intervals, changing the overall sound of it, and the oldest loops would fade out as newer loops faded in. This process gradually changed the entire sound of the music, and I was able to draw a parallel to thinking. We start thinking about something, and then some new thought bumps in and changed the course of the idea. Old thoughts fade out, and new thoughts keep coming in, and gradually the whole idea is completely different. Upon gaining this insight, I fell back down into the fractal madness.

The next time I surfaced, I realized that the still slowing fractals represented universes (in the sense of alternate universes, all a part of the over-universe that was the set of everything that is) being born and dying. They started out as tiny points of light in the void, then exploded into full-size universes, then collapsed back in on themselves, then repeated the process. Somehow I was dislodged from my universe, and time was greatly sped up, so I could see the entire universe field being born and dying, over and over again. I then had the distinct and eerie feeling that I was being shown this on purpose, that the concept of birth and death of universes was a meme that was somehow trapped in the void and wanted to get loose, wanted people to think it. I likened it to a god of the underworld bound in chains, straining to be released.

At the same time, though, the idea was frustratingly difficult to grasp. I saw it as a fish in a pool, that I was trying to grab with my bare hands. The fish wanted to be grabbed, but it kept slipping out of my grasp and slipping back down into the darkness. After some time of this, I finally understood what the idea was, and felt compelled to share it with everyone I was talking to on IRC, but then ran into the slippery fish again as I attempted to compress the idea down into mere words.

At this point, about 35 minutes into the experience that felt like it had already spanned the whole of time, I started seeing the birth and death of the universes in a different analogy. I found this one harder to grasp, but it did lend an understanding to the mechanics of the expansion and collapse. I saw three rods, on end, with a rubber string running through the middle of them. The center rod would turn in one direction, wrapping the string around it, and stretching it, until the string was stretched as far as it would go, and the rod would spin back in the other direction, unwrapping the string and then wrapping it again in the other way. This went on for a while, but as I resigned myself to not understanding the relevance of the illustration to the universes, it switched back to the expanding and contracting fractals. I then felt that there was someone as frustrated with me not understanding the analogies as I was frustrated with the people on IRC not understanding my explanations.

Here, an on-line joined the irc channel, and I attempted to keep up a bit of friendly banter with him each time I surfaced from the noise of exploding universes. At some point, I felt that the cycle was going to continue in a big circle until I understood it. As I resigned myself to not trying to talk with my friend, I spent about ten real-life minutes observing the cycle, trying to understand it. Every expansion still felt like an eternity, as if I were experiencing the entire content of whichever particular universe I was looking at, before it collapsed again. Then I had the insight that the cycle was linked to the rhythm of my breathing. The cycle seemed that much more clear to me then. The universes expanded as I inhaled, up to the point where they were life-size at the point right before exhaling, then collapsed again as I exhaled, down to the point where they ceased to exist, between breaths. I suddenly understood what I was supposed to learn: every breath I took contained an infinity of experience, yet they were all the same. Each time the cycle came around, I was just right back where I had started.

I then felt a different presence, not in the sense that one can feel when someone is looking at you, simply that I felt a different sort of intentionality from what was trying to show me the workings of the over-universe. This intentionality was trying to thwart me, and felt connected to the slippery fish idea. His new tactic was to interfere with my senses, to the point that whichever one I was trying to use stopped working correctly. When I tried to type, I had greater awareness of what was on the screen. When I tried to look at the screen, I gained insight into the music. When I tried to listen, I was able to type. It felt different, somehow, than just simple uncoordination. I had the sense that someone was doing it on purpose, just to frustrate me. I then understood that, in order to interact with my surroundings, the universes needed to be in their life-size form. This was why there was such a large ratio of chaos time to order time, because there was only a single point at which the universes were large, the point after inhaling but before exhaling. Of course, this meant that I could expand this point by holding my breath, which worked wonderfully. However, I then felt the thwarting intentionality manifest itself in a different way, by shooting lots of different thoughts at me at once. Like a sailing ship blown off-course by many otherwise unnoticeable small gusts of wind, my train of thought was constantly bombarded with irrelevant things to get me off course. The longer I held my breath, the worse this bombardment became, until I was completely confused and forgot why I was holding my breath, exhaled, and returned to chaos.

Now the fractal universes took on another image, that of two fractal circles. The circles were empty in the middle, and were made up of fractals lined up next to each other in a curve. Thus, they had fractals trailing off into infinitesimal smallness on the outsides. These circles were next to each other, and spinning in opposite directions. The point of 'real universes' became the interface of the fractals in between the two circles, which only meshed up correctly in the very center. The void, then, was represented by the fractal parts on opposite sides of the circles, that never interfaced at all. Again, I had the overwhelming notion that the universes were constantly expanding and collapsing, linked to my breathing, but I was unable to figure out the intent of this new circular formation, and it soon reverted to the main fractal field.

The next universe analogy seemed to have progressed onto a new point. I saw the universes as a sine wave, with the void at the bottom, and 'existence' at the top, and understood that what we experience somehow spans the crests of the waves. The universes now seemed to be still-image slices of the over-universe, each one corresponding to a certain instant in time. They all come and go, but we manage to persist as one crest falls and the next crest swells up to meet us. It took me a few minutes to realize this, and as soon as I did, I was back to the fractal field. I then had the idea that I must be experiencing what it feels like to be God, seeing all of everything there is, going through its natural cycles.

By now, at about T+1:20, I definitely felt past the peak. I no longer found it necessary to hold my breath in order to interact with the world, and found that the analogies I was using to integrate the experience seemed to be my own, rather than being presented to me.

The last analogy of the universes was similar to the sine wave analogy. Only this time, I saw it as a sine wave mirrored in the center, so instead of a rising and falling line, there were two lines rising and falling opposite each other. The point in the center, where the space between the waves was greatest, was the point of existence, and the point where they crossed was the void. Then these waves began whizzing past at such a speed that the existence points seemed to create a static image, like a light on a spinning fan blade. Somehow, then, the points of existence persist just long enough for the next point to occur and take its place.

Throughout the whole trip I was feeling a very strong idea of being presented something that I was intended to look at, that the concept behind it was straining to be freed upon my mind. Once I felt I sufficiently grasped the concept, I then felt an urge to share it with as many others as I possibly could.

I also felt like the presentations were shifting through as many different analogies as possible, as if the presenter was trying desparately to find something I could comprehend. I didn't feel that the presenter was God, so to speak, or an alien, or anything like that. It was just an unnamed force that had intentions. Almost as if the idea itself were alive, and it wanted to be thought by as many people as possible. Curiously enough, there was some thwarting force at work too, trying to prevent me from freeing the idea from its bonds by grasping it enough to think and pass on.

All in all, this was a very insightful experience, and had very few unpleasant effects. The chaos at the beginning was very annoying. It felt like I was spinning around so fast that I was unable to grasp anything enough to make sense of what was going on. This wasn't so much scary as it was frustrating, but it fortunately did not last long. It served mainly to shake me up enough to pay attention to the rest of the things I was presented with.

I imagine I took around 75-90 mg of this substance, and while I will probably experiment with a bit higher dose just to see what happens, I wouldn't be surprised if this was the optimal dosage level.

The peak lasted around an hour and twenty minutes, and by two hours I was fully back to this world, though still noticeably intoxicated. Interesting to me were the aftereffects, in which I felt compelled to comfort people. Almost as if there were nothing any more pleasing to me than to make other people happier in life.

DPT is certainly a very powerful chemical, and is not to be lightly handled. I can see how it could spiral into a very unpleasant experience. To the right person, though, it would be a wonderful journey of understanding and insight.

Exp Year: 2002	ExpID: 17250
Gender: Male
Age at time of experience: Not Given
Published: Sep 5, 2002	Views: 29,835
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DPT (21) : Alone (16), General (1)