I need to post this somewhere. I am looking for others who have experienced what I have. I guess I am looking for corroboration that I am not crazy. I just can’t get them out of my head and I don’t know what to do anymore. Any advice welcome.

The first time I saw them was seven months ago. A friend of mine that I hadn’t seen in a while showed up at my apartment with some DMT. We used to trip together a lot, but I hadn’t done anything in a few years. Honestly, I hadn’t thought about it much, but just seeing him pull it out of his pocket got my pulse up. My roommate was going out of town the next day, so we decided to hold off until then which I preferred anyway. I had done plenty of hallucinogens back in the day. I’m certainly no light-weight in that department. But, like I said, that had been awhile ago and I had never done DMT. Twice I tried 5-meo-DMT, which is supposed to be pretty close, but I never got a good enough hit. I wanted to have an idea of what I was getting myself into before we went ahead with it.

My friend, Alan’s his name, had done it a few times and had a lot to say about it. For one thing, unlike acid or psilocybin, DMT occurs naturally in your body at low levels. There’s some speculation that a naturally-occurring massive burst of DMT could be the cause of near-death experiences and even that it may be some sort of conduit for the human soul. The drug itself is supposed to create an intense out-of-body experience, but it’s fast, like fifteen minutes fast, and then you’re done.

To be honest, though I liked what I was hearing, I was getting a weird feeling from Alan. I don’t really know how to describe it. You know when someone just seems a little different and you can’t place it? I guess that was the feeling. Like I knew Alan really well, and he seemed… I don’t know. Just off. He seemed off. You know, I asked him about his life lately, stuff like that, just to get a feel for what might be bothering him. He told me a little about the graduate work he was doing on cancer cells, a girl he was seeing for a while that he broke it off with, but nothing that seemed to be the source of this “off” reading I was getting.

Anyway, the point is that I was a little uneasy, and I should have listened to my gut. But just imagining tripping again had me sweating and excited and I was not going to be deterred. Plus, DMT was sounding especially cool to me at this point. And he literally had it in his pocket.

Skip ahead to the next day, my roommate leaves to visit her dad for the weekend. Alan and I wait thirty minutes to make sure she’s not going to come back for something she forgot and then he starts getting everything on the table. At some point, I realize he’s talking about me getting a good hit, as in he was not going to be tripping. Obviously another red flag. I’ve literally never tripped while Alan babysat me. But by this point, the stuff’s on the table, I’ve gathered up all the courage I’ve got, and Alan is telling me it makes more sense this way because I’ll get a better hit if he holds it for me and I’ll be back in five minutes anyway. So I go for it.

I got a good hit right off the bat. Before I was finished inhaling, I was already surrounded by this incredibly loud, rocketing vibration, which felt as though it was ripping me apart at the atomic level. I was completely gone, by which I mean I was utterly unaware of Alan or anything else around me. I was surrounded by a rippling iridescence, which encapsulated every color of the rainbow. It spun me around and I could feel it moving through me. If I looked at any one patch, I found I could stop the undulation and then the colors would gel up to form what looked like runes or some sort of symbolic language.

When I came to, I had tears on my face. For all the times I’ve hallucinated, I’ve never been out so far. I’ve had plenty of visuals before, but this was so much more immerse. It remains the most beautiful thing I’ve seen to date. I’m not describing it well, but the sheer beauty of those colors was breath-taking even for a practiced tripper. It just transcended all language. And then, to add to that, the runes seemed profound as though there was a deeper message I was being given. In fact, I felt pulled back too soon. I wanted to go back. I wanted to decipher it.

As I was coming out of it, which was a quick process like Alan said it would be, I did my best to tell him what I saw. At some point, he got up to go to the bathroom and I just continued to process what I experienced, looking around my living room trying to hold on to some of the extreme colors I saw. By that point, probably 40 minutes later, I was completely back to normal and elated.

When Alan came back from the bathroom, he started setting everything up again. I assumed he was going to take his turn, but then he looked at me and said, “So, do you want to go again?” Now, it really hadn’t crossed my mind that there would be a round two. I was still shaky and overwhelmed from round one, I had never done hallucinogens twice in one day, and Alan hadn’t gotten a turn. At the same time, the duration of the trip was so short and I had been enjoying it so much. “Can you really do it back to back like that?” I asked him, and he assured me he had done it up to five times in a row. “You know, you can go past the colors,” he said, just as I was breathing in.

I was already hurtling through space and time, the same intense vibrations which I could hear roaring over any other noise in the room and also feel pushing me apart on a microscopic level, and then again, the colors. This time a pixelated cover hung in front of them and the colors seemed to swarm as though they were alive and trying to keep together. The geometric overlay was also moving and alive, and as it changed its shape, I again had the feeling that there was a bigger message there. I was trying to figure it out when I remembered Alan saying I could move beyond the colors.

Instantly, as I thought that, a white light came from behind or between the colors and I moved toward it. I immediately had the sense that I was surrounded by these little beings. If I looked forward, I could see only white, but I knew they were there. When I looked down, I could see the ones closest to me. They were only waist-high and looked, don’t laugh, like little felt Smurfs. The one closest to me took my hand. It told me telepathically that they had been waiting for me. They needed me. It was very important that I come with them. We hurried through the light, but then they all stopped together and the one who was holding my hand told me we wouldn’t make it. I felt the light slipping out from under me, but I could see the desperation in the Smurf’s face. I told it I could come back. As it squeezed my hand, I felt an overwhelming serenity and I drifted back to my living room.

I told Alan that he was right, that I could go past the colors, and again, I started telling him what happened. The sense of deep joy and peace was still within me, so this time when I looked at him, still with that offness about him, I had the urge to comfort him. I thanked him so much for bringing the DMT and then I told him about the Smurfs waiting for me, how loved and needed I felt by them. “It was an unbelievable feeling,” I told him.

But he didn’t seem reassured. He said, “So you saw them.”

“The Smurfs?” I asked and laughed. “Is that a normal thing?” Never in any of my trips had I met up with other beings.

“Well, I see them as bees,” he said, and then he asked me if I wanted to go again.

At this point, I was exhausted. I really didn’t want to trip again and on top of that, I was somewhat creeped out by the pressure he was putting on me to keep going. But at the same time, I was kind of intrigued about the Smurfs. The way Alan responded made me feel like seeing them was a common aspect to DMT and from my experience, it was an aspect unique to DMT. I was probably never going to have this opportunity again. Additionally, on some weird level, I felt like I had made a pact with the Smurfs. I told them I could come back and they rewarded me overwhelming bliss. So I agreed.

The third time was a disappointment from the get-go. I could tell by the rushing sound that it wasn’t going to be as intense. I was probably too exhausted to get a good hit. I floated through the colors again, but by the time I got past them, I was already coming down. I was in a forest and I could see the Smurfs’s hands grabbing for me through the trees. They wanted to reach me so badly. I could feel their sadness and desperation. It pained me that I couldn’t get to them.

When I came to this time, I was totally spent. I didn’t see much and I didn’t feel like saying much. Even though I had the other two amazing trips, this last one and the emotions that went with it were such a let-down that it was hard for me to pull myself up enough to even have fun with Alan afterward. He seemed disappointed too, which I chalked up to him wanting me to get a good experience, and I think he realized I was done because he didn’t bother bringing up another trip.

We had a pretty uneventful afternoon. We ordered some pizza, watched some TV. Eventually, I got myself back together and became interested in the Smurfs again and my better experiences in general. I wanted to know what it had been like for him, but he just said mostly like what my trips had been like. We caught up, talked about old times, and were just starting to think about turning in when I knew I wanted to go for it one last time. What the hell, I thought. The trips were playing around in my mind and this was probably my last chance. As soon as I mentioned it to Alan, he smiled. It was the first time he smiled all day. That was what was off about him, I realized.

The fourth trip was nothing like the others. It began with the same feeling that I was being shot out of a cannon and ripped apart at the cellular level, but I skipped the colors entirely and went straight to the white light. I remember thinking that I must have gotten a really good hit. The rocketing feeling continued and grew so intense that I thought my soul would explode and there would be nothing left of me.

Then the Smurfs were around me again. They were racing around as though they had known I’d be back and knew they had little time. But this time, it was different. The energy was really bad. At first, it felt like they were taking my breath from me. I was lying on my back and struggling to breathe. I didn’t know how they were doing it or why. I started to panic. I looked around and realized I was in some kind of control room. It was dark, except for pockets of bright light, and on all the walls were buttons and computer screens. The screens seemed alive as though maybe we were inside something bigger. I opened my eyes, which had been closed through the first trips, but it didn’t go away. I could see my living room, but everything in the control room was still there, still happening, only now it was overlaid on my living room. Alan stared at me from an arm chair. The effect was so disturbing, I closed my eyes again. I saw several of the Smurfs working in groups at different parts of my body, probing with long metal tubes, and cutting open the flesh on my thigh. I could see now that they were really just wearing Smurf costumes and that something slimy was underneath. I almost passed out. I was looking all over the place in complete terror and actual physical pain and then I saw one Smurf coming towards me and I knew this was the one that had held my hand earlier.

He said, “I’m not really a Smurf.” And I told him I knew that. My pain subsided.

He gestured at the Smurfs working on my body and said, “This is not happening as you are seeing it,” and I had the realization which I think he put in my mind that what I was seeing was my brain’s attempt to make sense of what was really happening. It wasn’t a literal truth, but a metaphoric one.

Suddenly, all the Smurfs around me started working faster and faster, pulling out my organs right in front of me, licking their lips. I was screaming ‘No! No! No!” But at the same moment, I realized I was leaving them. Relief washed over me. I knew they were powerless to stop it.

Before I could break away, the one who had been speaking to me leaned in closer so that all I could see was his giant Smurf face and he said, “We have a connection to you now,” and I told him I knew that. And then he said, “We need you.” And as I started to fade back to Alan, I knew that he didn’t mean just me. He meant all human beings.

I was still in a panic, even once I could open my eyes and look around the room. Alan looked nervous and told me later that I had been screaming. I had had bad trips before but this didn’t feel like a bad trip. This didn’t feel like my mind going sour or getting stuck in a loop. And it didn’t feel like a dream either. It felt absolutely real. It felt more real than real. I was more sure of that experience than I was that I was sitting next to Alan right then.

“Alan,” I said. “I never want to do that again.”

Alan smiled. “I know,” he said, “but you will.”

Then, Alan began telling me about his experience. He has a chemist friend who has been making the DMT. There’s a very small circle of this chemist, Alan, and two other friends who decided to experiment with it. One of them dropped out after the first try. He had a bad experience, but he wouldn’t talk about it with anyone. In fact, no one heard from him since. But, Alan, the chemist, and this friend continued getting together every few weeks for a DMT party, where they each took turns taking a few hits and then reciting their experiences. The chemist was hoping to catalog some near-death experiences informally.

At first, it was the chemist who saw little beings he described as angels. The three of them were all very excited to see this confirmation of the spiritual potential of the drug. They were particularly interested in the fact that once the chemist made contact, the angels continued to visit him in his trips from that time forward.

By this point, Alan was seeing the bees, or bee-humanoids as he described them, as well. They showed him their hive. His experience was much more intellectual than the chemist’s and he felt the bees were trying to communicate with him in a way too advanced for him to comprehend. He believed they were trying to upload his emotions.

The third friend also reported being visited by little creatures, leprechaun-like and malevolent. They feasted on his skin. When they noted this unexpected and common theme, the three of them got even more serious about their experiments. They tried to convince themselves that these beings were figments of their psyche, but the more experiences they had, the more overlap they noted between each person, the more it seemed impossible that it was a coincidence. How could a drug produce such a high-level full-scale experiences that translated from person to person? It just didn’t make sense. But if the drug was not responsible, what was going on? Was this actual contact? Was this real?

I know from my own experience that it felt real. Very real. I was miles further out than I had ever been on any drug, but I didn’t feel high. I didn’t have trouble thinking. I heard and saw it all loud and clear.

As near as we can figure, there is something out there, lord knows what, and it needs something we have, something within our bodies. It can play on our memories (the Smurfs, for example) and our emotions by controlling how we feel when we see them, but when they are desperate they do not mask their malevolence. Somehow DMT acts as a conduit for these beings. It delivers us to them and they can reach across and pull what they need into their reality. They are taking something from us. I feel less, but I can't explain what is missing.

This disturbs me to no end. I know they are there. I live every day knowing they are there, wondering if they are watching me, wondering what is it of mine that they have. That alone would drive me crazy.

But there is something that bothers me even more. Alan gave me the DMT because he wanted to confirm the experiences happened outside his group, but also because he couldn’t be alone with this discovery and at that moment, he was. I don’t blame him. In fact, I think I might have done the same thing. Alan’s friend is in the mental ward of the hospital and is taking no visitors. The chemist recently killed himself. He didn’t do it because he couldn’t take the reality of all this, though that would be understandable. He did it because he suspected that before we die we release a surge of DMT into the brain. It was his belief in this that prompted his first experimentations. He couldn’t go on waiting. He needed to know if they come to all of us when we die. He needed to know if this is our afterlife. Are we just being farmed here only to be delivered onto their plate?

Alan and I don’t know what to do with this information. I can’t eat. I can’t sleep. I’ve gone back many times. I don’t even know why I do it. I guess I begin to doubt that this is happening, or else I think I will get some answer from them. Sometimes they aren’t there, but usually they are. They are drawing something out of me. They are telling me they have to do it. The thing is I know I’m not crazy. All I have to do is Google search to see this is happening everywhere.