Dmt vape catridges

$125.00$410.00 (-5%)

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The first time I heard about vape pens filled with DMT, I was completely dumbfounded.

I was at a bar in Fremont with a friend when, after a few drinks, he mentioned that he had recently bought a vaporizer cartridge filled with the drug.

DMT? The strongest psychedelic in the world? WTF?

Found in the ayahuasca tea made by the native people of the Amazon, and also produced naturally in our bodies, dimethyltryptamine (DMT), if ingested correctly, will send you into an overwhelming out-of-body experience that lasts less than half an hour in conventional time but is said to feel like a lifetime. A significant portion of users report encountering small elves when they are hallucinating on DMT.

Now this powerful psychedelic drug was being packaged in vape pens? Does this mean people can now trip on DMT anywhere and everywhere, from the back of a bus to a break at work?

I had never tried DMT before. But I write about drugs for The Stranger. I needed to try this thing.

My friend didn’t have his DMT vape pen on him, probably smart considering it’s illegal, but I left the bar that night resolved to try one of these DMT vapes in the future.

I didn’t have to wait long.

A week later, I was visiting a friend at his rooftop lounge in Pioneer Square, on one of those glassy new buildings so close to CenturyLink Field that you can see the Seahawks play without leaving the building. I casually mentioned what I had heard in the bar in Fremont. “You’re not going to believe this,” I said, “but I know someone who has a vape pen filled with DMT.”

I said it because I thought this particular friend might be into that sort of thing. Much to my surprise, he said: “So do I. Let’s go downstairs.”

We took the elevator down to his apartment, where succulents and important-looking crystals covered nearly every surface. My friend disappeared into a back room for a moment. His dog looked me in the eyes and barked. Then my friend returned with a white cloth wrapped around something the size of a small book. He unwrapped the cloth and showed me about a dozen cartridges, each one about an inch long, carefully packaged in individual glass tubes.

“If you want to write about this, you need to try it. Here, take one. I only trade psychedelics; I won’t sell them. So just give me something else in return when you get a chance.”

I was now holding a cartridge filled with DMT. “You may or may not break through the first couple of times,” my friend said. “It’s like a dream. You have to write everything down or talk to someone right after, because otherwise everything will just go away.”

In the past, I’ve had multiple opportunities to smoke DMT crystals, the version of DMT that is somewhat widely available on the black market, but I’ve said no thanks every time. There was always a good reason not to—the people who had it seemed sketchy or untrustworthy, the moment wasn’t right for a possibly life-altering psychedelic trip full of elves or tunnels of light—but here I was with DMT from someone I trusted. It was packaged in a highly convenient form. There’s something about the sleek, modern convenience of a vape cartridge that made the whole thing seem very palatable.

I promised my friend I would repay him with some psilocybin-laced mushroom chocolates that a friend makes, and off I went. I left his apartment and walked back into the weekday bustle of Pioneer Square, a cartridge filled with DMT in my bag.

I sat on the futon couch wedged into the corner of my bedroom and held the cartridge of DMT in front of me. I reached for my weed vape pen, unscrewed the cartridge filled with pot, and replaced it with the cartridge filled with DMT. I held the pen in my hand, ready to bring it to my mouth, but I was nervous and alone, and I let my arm fall to my side without taking a hit.

I got up and put on some music and lit some incense.

I sat back down and quickly put the vape pen to my mouth, not letting myself contemplate what I was about to do. I held the button down and started to breathe in deeply. The hit tasted horrible, like burnt oil and burning rubber mixed with the stale smell of an old person’s house. I exhaled a thick cloud and waited. Nothing at first. I looked at my phone and 10 seconds passed. The timer clicked over to 15 seconds, and still nothing.


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10 grams, 15 grams, 25 grams, 35 grams

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