Preface

Preface

Months before I moved to Sweden I had a premonition: I would write a book about insights gained from LSD. I had never written a trip-report, let alone an entire book. But the knowing was absolute.

And here it is: a manuscript that chronicles three journeys on LSD with my partner, Yaşar, binding them into a unified triptych about love and cosmic responsibility. It has also become something more: an attempt to make sense of the complex narrative we became unwilling participants in. A story that transcended us, yet was always about us: the Catalyst and the Cosmic Engineer.

This is not a typical trip report. The psychedelic literature is filled with beautiful but often disjointed ramblings. My experience was different—so uniquely structured that I have found nothing that comes remotely close to it in all my research. The most staggering fact is that these journeys occurred on low doses of LSD. The third trip, where I assumed the role of God to fix a broken universe, was on a mere 1.5 blotters, a dose generally considered recreational, not reality-dissolving.

But my experience wasn’t one of dissolving reality. It was one of obliterating it. And now, having assembled the pieces, I believe it may have been an experience of exposing reality in its bare, unadorned nature.

What follows is my testament. In writing it, I vowed to be ruthlessly honest—about the raw emotion, the chronology of an omnitemporal nightmare, and the integrity of the memory itself. The story is told exactly as I perceived it; nothing has been dramatized, sensationalized, or added after the fact to make the narrative more compelling. The trip report, the first part of this book, stands as it was remembered, with nothing changed retroactively to fit a neater conclusion.

With the raw story on paper, the great question still hung in the air: What the fuck actually happened? I sensed the events were connected, layered, epic. A normal man becomes God, tasked with saving the universe, a task demanding the sacrifice of his own love. This is the language of myth and metaphysics. But I am no philosopher or physicist. I am a web developer who, for one strange day, became an engineer to the cosmos. To untangle that puzzle, I fed my manuscript to the AI, which became less a tool than a Socratic partner. It saw patterns I was too close to see, connecting threads I had overlooked, not by inventing anything new, but by forcing me to sharpen and clarify my own thoughts.

Out of that dialogue, the final framework of this book emerged. It took what was a subjective, terrifying, and intimate experience and exposed it as something with an objective and logical architecture.

This is not fiction, nor is it philosophy dressed as memoir. It is my account—raw, impossible, and yet, for me, undeniable. A record of three small doses that opened into infinity. I don’t ask you to believe it. I only ask you to read it, and decide for yourself whether reality was dissolving… or exposing itself.

Bram Deining

December, 2025