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A subtle numbness overtakes my senses. I feel a slight heavy weight fall upon me in the gentlest of ways, almost like you’re wearing a fur coat in a meat locker and someone’s pissing on you while your spine is wrapped in cotton, or cold water falling from a shower in slow motion but from under your skin. Any attempt to fight is useless, and as you discover this you realize that you wouldn’t want to… even if you had the capability. Vision fades and yet becomes sharper and is intensified. I remember closing my eyes and seeing almost a faint kaleidoscope figure off in the distance of my mind that would fade in and out slowly. It was murky, dim even. A wave of euphoria washed over my body and I excepted everything as it came. The oneness with the grass I sat in and the people that lay all around me. This one girl who sat across from me wore a flower printed dress and a fedora. She kept laughing in a cackle and would say things like, “This is what dreams are made of” and “Can you believe this is really happening?” Not just because of the annoying “hippie” banter do I recall this girl, though I was tripping rather hard. It was because of her large breasts that my memory alloys her in the V.I.P. Section of my mind. I distinctively recall her breasts and remember as I lit the first joint of D.M.T. (Dimethyltryptamine is a psychedelic compound of the tryptamine family) that I was very nervous and at the same time very pumped about my first D.M.T. experience, but still those titties overcame my fear and occupied 99% of my focus while 1%, my basic stoner motor skills took over and hit the joint. The person who initially invited me to join the circle said to me “Hit it harder”. So I did. As I steadily drift off into the Ethernet to learn of such things like, what all of the hairs on my body were doing at that precise moment, 99% of my focus was rickety and speeding its way through oblivion while 1% was still very much tethered to those big ass titties. Keeping me safe, showing me my way back home. Just as quick as it came on, it was gone. Something had showed itself to me and it was only very faint. I’d had a taste and while I got up from that circle I knew I wanted to try more. Get thrown in the deep end. Feed deeper into this trip and really get lost in it. I wonder what it’s like to die. I sit up late at night often thinking what great visions await me when that last initial Trip of natural D.M.T. goes ripping through my brain. Like if I were to put a gun in my mouth and take several deep breaths then pull the trigger, what would go through my head following the bullet? Would certain parts of my brain still function for a short while before dying? Like when a person is decapitated, the brain stays alive for roughly 10 seconds. What goes through your mind then? If I shot myself in the head and some parts of my consciousness were still active, would I be freaked out when what was left of my jaw hit the coffee table? Not being able to feel it. Maybe being able to still hear the ringing in my ears or the screaming from the person or people I did it in front of. It’s 4:27 in the A.M. Not thinking of dreams, but suicide. After all they both kind of go hand in hand.
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