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Daniel Pinchbeck – Breaking Open the Head

I somehow understood that the DPT realm had evolved over an incredibly long period – millions of years, if time has the same kind of meaning to its inhabitants as it does to us.  ……….

It was obvious that we little human beings have absolutely no idea what is going on in the cosmos.  The word baroque doesn’t even begin to describe the jaded emptiness and sublime beauty of that evanescent empire.  A little bit like the soft candle flimmer worlds one sees on hash and opium, but etched in perfect solid state reality – more than photographic.

About half an hour after taking DPT I called a friend: ‘This is total magic, sorcery.  I am watching endless Gothic demon universes mirroring each other………

With each change in beat [he was listening to techno music] I saw a brand new extremely detailed demonic realm swirl before me in cobalt, scarlet, purple gossamer hues.  At moments there seemed to be some incredibly elegant yet violently orgiastic party taking place with beautiful females in evening gowns and men in Edwardian topcoats in the spacious parlours of a huge and opulent mansion

At other times there seemed to be bat or butterfly winged creatures – long and quivering antennaes, velvet coats and emerald eyes, stiletto talons – rising into otherworldly skies, wandering futuristic cities.  I had an impression of tremendous vanity.  ‘I’ was being used for the DPT beings to admire themselves.  But their realm was far beyond what can be expressed in ordinary language in its speed of transmutation, its shiverly quicksilver beauty.

The worlds revealed were like the endless facets of a twirling diamond – I felt the real possibility of being trapped inside any one of these facets, a kind of soul prison, for eternity.  That was the terror of it.  As with smoking salvia, I had the sense that some part of me had always been stuck in this Gothic DPT prison, trapped there eternally.

For a flicker of forever, I was imprisoned in a post modern bar, surrounded by gleaming mirrors with a hyperslick lounge lizard wearing a white Mohawk and synthetic fabrics.  He was sitting at the bar, drinking a high ball.  There were no doors or windows in this room, no escape possible… The sleek rhythmical mesh of the music seemed woven into the lurid fabric of darkness, the revelation of sinister forces coming to life behind my eyelids.

Through DPT, I saw the road open up towards amoral knowledge and occult power.  What was most frightening was its seductiveness, its non human glamour.  I could no longer argue with the idea of ambivalent spirit realms conjoined with this one.  The rules of navigating in these realms may, as Don Juan [Carlos Castaneda] lays them out, be extremely specific and seemingly arbitrary.  Without a guide, the dangers for the integrity of the psyche may be as imposing as the knowledge to be gained