Borders give words meaning. We require rules, systems, and containers to communicate. Thus begins the paradox of trying to explain an experience like this with words. To further complicate things, our memory is far from perfect. We store events as stories and every time we recall these stories and deliver them, the memory changes as the retelling of the story does. Lastly, at least for me, the entire experience was boundlessness/borderlessness. To use words is to place a border on it. To use the structure of a story is to place a boarder on it. So know, as hard as I may try, my explanation and recollection of the experience is mostly a futile endeavor. With that in mind…

Imagine there is a two dimensional field gathering and growing out of the smoke swirling inside the pipe. Its 10 ft by 10 ft. As soon as I inhale the smoke, that entire field beams through me and I instantly feel altered perceptual information coming from every sense organ my body harbors. I have never experienced a change this quickly and this drastic. I remember taking in a 2nd inhale. The last three inhales, no memory.

The chronological order from this point is pointless. I have no way of remembering when anything occurred, but I do have some distinct landmarks I can describe.

There were no borders. The mental process where we view ourselves as separate from others was checked the fuck out. The predominate colors were rich hues of red and gold. Bassnectar was pulsating in the background but I couldn’t distinguish it at the time. I felt a distinct female entity, sexual, powerful, and accepting. My consciousness, the colors, the music, and this entity were all moving through, mixing with, and absorbing each other. It was like my soul was making love with a ethereal femineness created by the music.

There was a distinct moment where I said to myself, “There are more dimensions.” It was a matter-of-fact statement. My post hoc rationalization of this unprovoked thought is that my perception of this borderless dimension was a higher dimension than the 4 dimensions we live in. String Theory’s mathematics suggest there are 11 dimensions and that each of the higher dimensions embody all the lower ones within it. I don’t know what realm I was believing I was perceiving, but it was definitely not this one.

The most mysterious recollection of this experience is so fuzzy in my mind that I know as I attempt to explain it–it will be altered forever. Oh well though, better than forgetting it.

At the beginning of the trip, my mind desperately tried offering suggestions from experience as to try to explain what was happening. It failed completely. I scorched through every perspective my mind is able of adopting–and found each one worthless in this attempt to establish meaning. However, this seemingly destructive experience provided something I’ve never thought about. I remember their being six or seven distinct “windows” shown to me. At one point, I felt like all of them were in front of me and I sat removed from them, peering through them, looking at the aggregated story that is my life. These were the specific biased perspectives I filter reality through. It was absolutely the most psychedelic thing I’ve ever encountered. The tragedy, or maybe the miracle, is that I can’t remember what these perspectives were. Imagine the insight I could gain if I could remember.

The entire experience lasted maybe five minutes. Afterwards, I felt like an infant. My mind had been so throughly thrashed, I didn’t know what to do. I got up to go outside and the door wouldn’t open. I was still in an altered state. The dimensions of the room felt funny and the thought zapped into my head, ‘What if you’re hallucinating this and you’re still in the trip?” The moment before I was sure to dive into a horrible negative loop, a beautiful girl opened the door and I made my way outside.

It is my ritual now that after an experience, I lay on my back sprawled out in an X, and just take deep, slow breaths.


The cynical scientist in me thinks that this drug causes neural wiring to cross communicate to the point of massive sensory overload and confusion. Senses meld. It obliterates the organizing consciousness and allows the subconscious to explode forward. As soon as baseline is established, the remembering self alters the experience by trying to attach meaning and coherency, much like a dream. Can experienced trippers learn to control the experience like a lucid dreamer controls a dream? Imagine the implications.


A true thank you to all the people involved with the leading up too, experiencing of, and following aftermath of this experience. It was easily the most memorable day of my life thus far.

Don’t be cunty, forgive yourself, and realize your perception of the world is the most powerful tool you possess–and it can be managed.