true hallucinations.htm - Shroomery

true hallucinations.htm
a particularly long spell of visions, I found that my friend had stopped playing and had gone away, leaving me with his lady.
I had promised them both that I would let them try some DMT during the evening. My glass pipe and tiny stash of waxy orange DMT were
before me. Slowly, and with the fluid movements of a dream, I filled the pipe and gave it to her. The stars, hard and glittering, stared down
from a mighty distance on all of this. She held the pipe and took two deep inhalations, sufficient for a person so frail, then the pipe was
returned to me, and I followed her into it with four huge inhalations, the fourth of which I held onto until I had broken through. For me it was
an enormous amount of DMT, and I immediately had a sense of entering a high vacuum. I heard a high-pitched whine and the sound of
cellophane ripping as I was transformed into the ultra-high-frequency orgasmic goblin that is a human being in DMT ecstasy. I was
surrounded by the chattering of elf machines and the more-than-Arabian vaulted spaces that would shame a Bibiena. Manifestations of a
power both alien and bizarrely beautiful raged around me.
At the point where I would normally have expected the visions to fade, the pretreatment with LSD synergized my state to a higher level. The
cavorting hoards of DMT elf machines faded to a mere howling as the elfin mob moved on. I suddenly found myself flying hundreds of miles
above the earth and in the company of silvery disks. I could not tell how many. I was fixated on the spectacle of the earth below and realized
that I was moving south, apparently in polar orbit, over Siberia. Ahead of me I could see the Great Plain of Shang and the mass of the
Himalayas rising up in front of the red-yellow waste of India. The sun would rise in about two hours. In a series of telescoping leaps, I went
from orbit to a point where I could specifically pick out the circular depression that is the Kathmandu Valley. Then, in the next leap, the valley
filled my field of vision. I seemed to be approaching it at great speed. I could see the Hindu temple and the houses of Kathmandu, the Temple
of Svayambhu-nath to the west of the city and the Stupa at Boudanath, gleaming white and a few miles to the east. Then Boudanath was a
mandala of houses and circular streets filling my vision. Among the several hundred rooftops I found my own. In the next moment I slammed
into
my body and was refocused on the roof top and the woman in front of me.
Incongruously, she had come to the event wearing a silver satin, full-length evening dress—an heirloom—the sort of thing one could find in
an antique clothing store in Notting Hill Gate. I fell forward and thought that my hand was covered by some cool, white liquid. It was the
fabric of the dress. Until that moment neither of us had considered the other a potential lover. Our relationship had functioned on quite a
different level. But suddenly all the normal sets of relations were obviated. We reached out toward each other, and I had the distinct
impression of passing through her, of physically reaching beyond her. She pulled her dress over her head in a single gesture. I did the same
with my shirt, which ripped to pieces in my hands as I took it off over my head. I heard buttons fly, and somewhere my glasses landed and
shattered.
Then we made love. Or rather we had an experience that vaguely related to making love but was a thing unto itself. We were both howling
and singing in the glossolalia of DMT, rolling over the ground with everything awash in crawling, geometric hallucinations. She was
transformed; words exist to describe what she became— pure anima, Kali, Leucothea, something erotic but not human, something addressed
to the species and not to the individual, glittering with the possibility of cannibalism, madness, space, and extinction. She seemed on the edge
of devouring me.
Reality was shattered. This kind of fucking occurs at the very limit of what is possible. Everything had been transformed into orgasm and
visible, chattering oceans of elf language. Then I saw that where our bodies were glued together there was flowing, out of her, over me, over
the floor of the roof, flowing everywhere, some sort of obsidian liquid, something dark and glittering, with color and lights within it. After the
DMT flash, after the seizures of orgasms, after all that, this new thing shocked me to the core. What was this fluid and what was going on? I
looked at it. I looked right into it, and it was the surface of my own mind reflected in front of me. Was it translin-guistic matter, the living
opalescent excrescence of the alchemical abyss of hyperspace, something generated by the sex act performed under such crazy conditions? I
looked into it again and now saw in
it the lama who taught me Tibetan, who would have been asleep a mile away. In the fluid I saw him, in the company of a monk I had never
seen; they were looking into a mirrored plate. Then I realized that they were watching me! I could not understand it. I looked away from the
fluid and away from my companion, so intense was her aura of strangeness.
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