DOSE:	25 mg	oral	4-AcO-DMT
	40 mg	oral	Methoxetamine

BODY WEIGHT:

143 lb

I'd like to share an experience I had not long ago. No intuitions about the nature of reality, just personal psychodynamics and casual analysis of the structure of my mind. Some of the text here might not seem to make any sense, but I'd like to think that at least the basics of the experience might be communicated with some precision.

On a Thursday evening in late February I took 40 milligrams of Methoxetamine and 25 milligrams of 4-AcO-DMT. The MXE was mostly an agent for reducing nausea and the awareness of physical side-effects - I've found combinations of dissociatives and psychedelics to be highly succesful in this regard, very effective. This was an evening like any other, save for this experience: I had had a pleasant day and was in fairly high spirits.

I've had enough psychedelics in my time to move fairly freely in the headspace, literally exploring my mind and what it can do. In my experience, the psychedelic mind is like a spreadsheet: all activities and thoughts, all mental activity, has some perceivable form that can be pointed out in conscious experience. I'll call these perceivable forms of mental activity 'constructs' from now on for simplicity.

One of my favourite activities is 'chasing' singular constructs, perceptions such as visions and sounds, to their fundamental structures, the basic 'bits' that make them up. For example, if I hallucinate a sound, I might actively try to dissect it: hearing shorter and shorter portions of the sound until all that is heard is an instant, sharp, glitchy blip. Like taking a millionth of a soundwave and playing that back. There's a certain limit to how far this can be pushed, eventually the regress stops and shorter sounds can't be formed. Singular thoughts can be chased in a similar manner, as can singular feelings and emotions. It's incredibly hard - impossible, even - to describe what the basic 'blips' and 'bits' of these are like. They're like stubs of feelings, singular notes of what is normally a chord; or the letters of what is normally a word. I won't even attempt further description. Needless to say I can't understand what they're like right now either, they're beyond my reach when sober.

This time I had the ingenious idea of 'chasing' a construct I haven't tried dissecting before: the subject - that is to say, me. The part of my mind that perceives and experiences. I was pretty sceptical of whether or not it would work, but surprisingly enough got a pretty good hold of it. I could 'grab' the subject and understand it: simply enough, it was my perspective, a non-existent point in space without mass. But I was not quite satisfied, I had the feeling that the subject still had some form behind this - surely it, too, had to have a structure of some sort. Not non-existent, but just very, very small. I tried to look at myself, tried to turn the perspective around to perceive the construct I was, but this was, of course, an absolutely futile attempt, paradoxical. Furthermore, as a result of the attempt, my mind started glitching pretty hard. Huge amounts of audio-visual distortion and a very exhausting feeling of mental strain. I decided to let this go as it was obvious to me that no further progress could be made. I can't perceive the perceiving construct. Sad, but true.

At any rate, this attempt left me highly exhausted and vulnerable, incapable of forming a single coherent thought. Sort of like muscle failure after too much exertion, but mental. I tried to retreat into nonexistence and unconsciousness to recuperate (a fairly basic maneuver in such situations), but I failed, something bad happened: I bumped into a traumatic cornerstone of basal experience by accident. In my moment of mental exhaustion and weakness a scene of incredible violence wrenched control of my headspace from me. The following scene did not take place visually, only some very basic constituents were visible and audible. Most of the perception took place on an entirely emotional level - however, no mistake should be made: the scene was crystal-clear.

There were two entities in a room. One entity was sitting on a bench in close proximity to me and appeared to be shielding something or someone in her arms. This entity was female. The other entity was standing up a metre or two away and was male. I had two impressions of my own location: I was either the being shielded by the female or on the floor next to her. There was a tremendous feeling of violence, dread and hatred in the air. The male and the female despised each other, they were 'shouting' at each other (once again no shouting was heard as such, but the impression was abundantly clear). And what did I feel? I felt like I should hide. I should not exist, I should be unperceivable, because if the violent male and female were to notice me, they might become angry at me. I was powerless and miniscule and vulnerable, and I had to hide, the hatred around me was unbearable. I recognized this emotion in its complexity, a feeling of being overpowered and helpless and naked. I still know exactly what emotion it was, and I feel I now know its origins.

The scene is very easy to interpret: my parents divorced when I was three, but for a few years prior to that my father and mother were very violent towards each other - they often had ferocious, poisonous arguments. My father was also physically violent towards my mother and, from what I've been told, slightly so towards my elder brother as well. I hold no personal recollection of those times I could access, everything I know is based on what I've been told later on by others involved. It is quite clear to me that the traumatic and violent experience I bumped into last night was a basal, infantile memory of the arguments between my mother and father, repressed and inaccesible until now. There is very little reason to suspect otherwise, since I know that I've been exposed to such situations; if such a young mind can form long-term memories and recordings of events, I certainly must have some, and this experience fits the bill with remarkable accuracy. The only detail open to further interpretation is the figure shielded by my mother: it could be me in her arms or my elder brother. If it was my elder brother, I was probably on the floor for some reason - the impulse I had was to crawl under the bench and hide there.

At any rate, I feel this offers an explanation of how I came to have a particular emotion - namely, the emotion of wanting to hide from a violent atmosphere. A very sophisticated, complex emotion. After the traumatic scene I was broken for a while, but was this time allowed to retreat into nonexistence. In a few moments time I was capable of consciousness again. The rest of the trip was fairly uneventful. Layer after layer I lost touch with the constructs of my mind, and as a last, desperate attempt at further progress I tried to isolate and chase all the 'good' and 'pleasurable' emotions I could feel and somehow convince my brain to play those chords more often. I had some success in isolating a few of these, but the project was, unfortunately, far too demanding as a whole.

Anyways, I'd like to end this slightly unorthodox trip report by saying that this experience truly reinforced my belief in the deconstructive effect of psychedelics and the potential it has. I'm not sure if becoming aware of this one traumatic experience and source of one single emotion will actually manifest itself in my psyche in any major way, but the result is highly interesting regardless.

If you managed to read all this through, I thank you very much and wish you a happy, eventful and fulfilling life. All the best.

Exp Year: 2012	ExpID: 95103
Gender: Male
Age at time of experience: Not Given
Published: Apr 25, 2012	Views: 6,971
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4-AcO-DMT (387), Methoxetamine (527) : Combinations (3), Unknown Context (20)