Dmt Stories

The story of me and DMT, detailed descriptions of the journeys, insights and changes it brought me over the course of just one year.

This "fear-and-loathing style" story is based on real-life events that occurred in the mid-2000s near the University of North Texas campus in Denton -- and following a late-afternoon, believed-to-be-acid turned terrifying trip to the Underworld, I was fatefully introduced to a liquid-based hallucinogenic-drug called 5-MEO DMT. Here's my story... AUTHOR'S NOTE: Character names have been altered to keep all those involved anonymous.

Read about various drugs and their effects...

If it's the most illegal drug in the world, why do our bodies produce it? This is the story of Alice. Down the rabbit hole we go. I'll show you just how deep the rabbit hole goes...

I will be posting this story on Royal Road.com. If God is all powerful, can He make something He cannot lift? Being that God is all powerful He can lift anything, yet if He is all knowledge He can make something He cannot lift. The answer to this paradox is found here. After reading this short, hilarious essay you may find yourself pondering profound spiritual truths, or you may think I'm a blithering idiot who has no idea what he's talking about and needs brain meds. I hope your opinion is the former. Bob Hall hates his name, say it out loud, and you'll understand why, sounds really stupid. He's changing his name to Wentworth Wellington Hall; this will instill awe and respect in others. So, from now on he's referring to himself as Wentworth. He'll buy a monocle next week on Tuesday at exactly 3:17pm. Due to the critical time importance, he'll be wearing his double-breasted blue color blazer with yellow long johns and purple penny loafers. He knows this will cause the ladies to faint and strong men will whimper like beaten turtles. Wentworth was starting to feel unusually strange in his heart, mind, spirit, and soul because the extremely powerful psychedelics were kicking in. He wasn't quite certain if taking 50 hits of Grateful Dead LSD, a huge ball of Magic Psilocybin Mushrooms and Very Pure DMT at the same time was the grandest idea he'd ever had. He'll find out sooner rather than later. Massive earthquakes started shaking the house, yard, and street. The sky turned purple, and the pouring rain was green. He just saw a ten-foot-tall orange lady with a tail and mustache riding a skateboard. Superman was powerless and running from a kryptonite moose with white wings. Suddenly his living room phased, shifted and exploded into absolute total complete unending darkness. He heard what he thought was him saying, "Bob Hall, you have now entered into the state of complete nothingness, and you will vanish from your own awareness. Forever."

The thoughts, thunks, imaginings, phantasies, poetry, prose, essays and wordspasms of Donovan Volk, a despairing activist-writer who survives on eggs, potatoes and waxy apples. Much if not most is taken from life. When the author is not sitting in a darkened room making letters into words, (and words into sentences) , he is standing by a highway trying to thumb a lift, slowly drinking in the silence in the forest or tundra, pursuing a great coffee in some smoggy pit or bothering the local and national authorities. When the author is not referring to himself in the third person, he is referring to himself in the first, or sometimes to others in the second, or to the world at large in the first. This book is a depository, always evolving, it is as polymorphous as an alchemists tube-flask. The bunsen burner to this alchemical process is always life, the oxidase; imagination. The substance; feeling. I am sorry world, I will always let you down. Never will I quite do justice to the heights of wonder or the depths of despair that inhabit and fill up this globe. I can only do my best. Thank you for tolerating me so far.

The summer of love, West Australian style. A lyrical memoir of the bush doof experience that shifts fluidly between dream and reality.