Dream Matrix Telemetry

A spoken word piece accompanying a recording by Zuvuya

DMT is an extraordinary hallucinogen that lasts only a few hundred seconds at the peak of the flash. It is something which is smoked. Something waxy. Orange. Smelling of camphor. You vaporize it in a small glass pipe. Something which is smoked. Behind closed eyelids, a kind of hallucination forms. A chrysanthemum -- a swirling floral pattern. Overlayed patterns of colours. You watch the chrsanthemum and if you've taken enough DMT, after about fifteen seconds, you are physically propelled through it. into a kind of tunnel-like space. You seem to be catapulting forward through some kind of labyrinth-like, tubular, unfolding, coloured, fluctuating space.

And after a few seconds of this, it is as though you arrive. The trip stablizes itself around you. At that point you in a kind of domed, indirectly lit, comfortable, underground space. But, what is astonishing about this space, is that is is inhabited, it is crowded.

Jewelled, self-dribbling basketvalls that bound forward, Chirping fractal denizens of the unconscious. They surround you, singing in a visible language and they use that language to produce objects. Sculptured, jewelled machines. Things made of precious stomes and metal. Agate, Topaz, Chalcedony. All kinds of precious materials. But not stable. Morphing. Transforming themselves. Matter somehow imbued with the spirit of language and imagination. And these elf-like, gnome-like artisans crowd forward, each offering their own creation for your inspection. Follow these entities, these hyper-objectified linguistic objects. It's terribly important that you learn to do this. They are the initiators of the human species into a new ontos of language, where meaning is beheld. Use your voice. It only lasts a few hundred seconds. Meaning is beheld.

Moving festival of light and colour from beyond the pale. Some kind of a look over the edge. The after death world. Pre-natal World. Some kind of a look over the edge. Pre-natal world.

The presence of these entities on the otherside of this pharmacological energy barrier raises a number of questions. Are they true beings? True Aliens from another star system, gently approaching us? Are they true Aliens Hiding behind the mask of an intoxication? Perfect interfacing of dimensions? I prefer to think, however, that we are encountering an ecology of souls.

Shaman, I am. Shaman, I am.
D.M.T. is all of these things.
It is like a hyper-cosmic carnival in your mind.
The boy in the bottle, the goat-faced girl.

I somehow shattered the membrane between myself and ordinary space. I carried the trip into the room with me. Very rapid transmission of data. It only lasts a few hundred seconds You awaken from a dream.

I can see it clearly, after a time I think it sticks with you. The details. Some quality of seeing and understanding.

A domain of dimensions. Some kind of connection...Blue Spirulina...Seeing and understanding.. a dimension has been added to ordinary perception.. And you will have the complete experience in the dream. It's in the body. You can do this on the natch, it is (no farther away than deep sleep -- these truly titanic dimensions are looming in on our pathetically conceived rational future)

Outrageous possibilities lie immediately at hand and are virtually only a toke away.

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