Reconnecting with the DMT World

I did some DMT a couple of weeks ago.

I then took notes and sent them to my collaborator Sam Khan (castaliajournal.substack.com) — we’ve been talking about doing a big literary project this summer. I’ll share more about it in the next few days.

For now, I’m pasting my letter below.

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Hey Sam,

I smoked two small doses of changa last night, and I want to share the notes I took after the trip. I’ll do only the most basic editing when typing them now, preserving the still-a-bit-high style of my handwritten scribbles.

I want to start our next conversation by talking about how they relate to our project, and by asking you about your relationship with what you have called “the spirit world” (or was it “the spirit”?) when we first talked a few months ago.

Changa, small dose, blunt. May 20, 2023, ~3:20 AM.

As always, in the trip’s first moments, I realize I’ve forgotten most of what I knew about a hidden, higher reality — a social, it feels, world, to which my connection is ordinarily limited or obscured.

On the one hand, I know I’ve always been connected to it — through people, dreams, intuition, sex, imagination — but on the other, in my everyday state, I’m blinded to its existence; and conversely, it too can’t reach me directly.

It’s a strange world. While teeming with human and non-human connections, it’s almost dispassionate. There’s love, but there’s distance — like a letter from a dead friend, lover, or parent.

It is demanding.