it sounds a bit woozy/melty/druggy/altered statey but not psychedelic.
to expand a little on this distinction psychedelics are not diassociatives. at the heart of the experience is clarity rather than confusion. not bad information (seeing things, delusional thinking etc) but more information. meaning multiplies. (which is why Mcluhan called LSD the lazy man's Finnegans Wake)
the nub of the experience is not the hallucinations and perceptual and cognitive distortions which surround the threshold, as entertaining as these may be, but the space we break into (" "The 'magic moment' or moment of metamorphosis, bust thru' from quotidien into 'divine or permanent world" E.P.), beyond that threshold.
before that, waves, which roll in, break over us, submerge us completely, before receding again, so this rhythm of in and out, under and back up again. this exchange of one element for the other. how long can you stay under? adjusting to this new medium.
until ultimately you realise you can breathe there.
and paradoxically it is here, at the furthest reaches of the unknown, we feel as if we have finally made it home. flush of astonished recognition. as if this were our rightful inheritance and homeland, withheld somehow (why? by who? and how?), until this moment.
the trance. the pearl at the bottom of the lake.
or as if you could sit under the bo tree until every one of your sequential incarnations unspool before the minds eye from now to single molecule squirming in the prebiotic yoghurt, monad of blind instinct in the cosmic slop.
keeping all this as immanence, that is to say, deliberately postponing transcendence, that is, surrender, the white light and the vision annihilated.
increasingly i link this blinding white light of transcendence, this overload of bliss and awe, with Burroughs' Orgasm-Death Gimmick. A limit. A locked door. An expulsion even. tricked into repeating the level, or ride the snake back to square one.
you've seen enough, time to go now. and you think of all those occult secrets Sting posesses, techniques of tantric ecstasy in which orgasm is delayed indefinitely.
were you there long enough to take notes? did you keep your wits about you or were you overawed? another reason I think Miles with his extended planes of immanence is so interesting.