Salvia divinorum Scotland ~ Feedback Received
I experienced what at first glance might be assumed to be a form of
childhood regression. And perhaps thatís all it was, or perhaps it was
One long inhalation of smoke and I was elsewhere. There was no preamble, no
build up, no increasing or changing awareness of shifting into a different
state of consciousness. I was simply somewhere other than I had been before.
It is possibly somewhere I have always been. I remember putting the pipe down
or perhaps it was taken out of my hand, but thatís all. I donít remember the
twisting away from everyday reality. I donít remember going. I only remember
The edges of the world were rippling, the edges and everything in between. I
could see it all around and inside of me, but not in any ocular sense and not
even in that mindís eye that I have experienced before with psychedelics. The
edges of the world were rippling and my edges were rippling and everything
between the two was as well. There was no boundary where one form was distinct
from the other. Everything consisted of a single continuous flow: of matter,
of energy, of consciousness? I have no idea! I have no explanation.
I was not afraid, or in danger, or alone. I had never been so safe. I was
surrounded by laughter. My mother and brother were there, just as they always
have been. I felt safe because I was in their arms.
A voice penetrated my consciousness and asked me why I was laughing. I opened
my eyes to a stranger, in a strange room. Why was he asking me questions? I
didnít really want to answer him. ďMy mum and my brother are hereĒ I told him
(I think I told him) and then I started laughing and couldnít stop. I clapped
my hand over my mouth (or at least I think I did). It seemed rude to laugh at
I closed my eyes again. I didnít want to come back, I wanted to stay here. I
was happy here, happier than I might ever have been. They were still there. I
couldnít see them, or hear them or feel them, but they were there. Gradually
the laughter ebbed and faded, grew soft. I clutched at it, the way one
clutches at a dream in the transition to awakening, like trying to hold mist
in your fingers.
For the last 5 or 6 days, I have tried to work it out and words fail me. What
were Mum and David doing there with me? One explanation is that they were
other entities and that my neurological hard wiring perceived them as the two
people that I love most in the world as a way of coping with strangeness of an
encounter with something so wholly other. Or perhaps they were there, and this
is the harder explanation to accept, because we have in some form always been
Two other things that I have to question:
Where did the laughter come from? Is there some great cosmic joke that we are
missing out on because we exist, or rather perceive that we exist, only in one
basic 3-dimensional reality most of the time?
The second question, and perhaps the more important of the two, revolves
around the dreamlike quality of the experience. Our culture discounts dreaming
as fantasy or random electrical activity. Yet we spend approximately one third
of our physical lives asleep. Effectively, we discount another reality in
which we spend a huge proportion of our time. When did we stop believing that
dreaming is part of being?
We are limited by our own vocabulary. All the words that we have to describe
such an experience donít fit. Psychoactive is too clinical, psychotomimetic
downright offensive. Psychedelic is not accurate, nor is hallucinogenic Ė you
are not hallucinating! Entheogenic? Still not quite right. We need a new word,
a better word. Until we find it I am going to give it one of my own.
Salvia is the bringer of dreams, the dream catcher, the dream maker.