DMT Showed Me the Truth About Elon Musk and prison planet—Now I Can’t Ignore It

In 2020, I started using DMT out of desperation. I have a rare brittle bone disease, and at the time, I was bedridden, in excruciating pain every single day. Nothing helped. Then DMT entered the scene and brought me back to life.

For three months, I did breakthrough doses about once a week. And in every single one, I met the same two entities. Others would come and go—some in the waiting room, some along the journey—but these two? They were always there at the end, always waiting for me, always delivering messages with absolute clarity.

And those messages changed everything.

The first thing they did was give me my memories back. Not from this life, but from beyond it. Suddenly, I remembered what this place is and that I'm an immortal being. This place is a prison planet, a hell simulation, something designed to trap consciousness and extract energy. They showed me that this reality runs on extreme emotions—fear and love are the primary fuel sources. Outside this place, emotions don’t work the same way.

Then came the warnings.

During an early breakthrough, I was shown a powerful entity that was controlling more than one body in this simulation. Not just influencing people, but literally inhabiting multiple forms. I was told to pay close attention to this entity.

Elon Musk.

I wrote everything down in my journals, documenting what I saw, but I never shared it. How could I? If I told people, I’d just be labeled crazy.

At the time, it made no sense. This was 2020—when everyone loved him. I didn’t follow what he was doing. I wasn’t into tech news. I wasn’t obsessing over billionaires. But trip after trip, the message was the same:

He is not what he seems.

He will create chaos.

He will be responsible for many deaths.

I was even shown what he really looks like, and it was horrifying. His true form wasn’t just unsettling—it was designed to induce fear. A parasite. A manipulator. Something that thrives in the shadows of control.

After every trip, I wrote everything down. But in my day-to-day life, I dismissed it. Yeah, okay, maybe this guy sucks, but how was it impacting me? Why was this information so urgent?

Then my husband found my journals.

He thought I was mentally ill. He thought I was obsessed with Elon Musk, even though I never talked about him. Ever. The only place I had even mentioned his name was in those journals—written moments after deep, overwhelming, DMT-induced revelations.

I tried explaining that I wasn’t obsessed, I was just recording what was being told to me. But he didn’t believe me. And when I finally left him, he stole my journals. Probably to use them in court, to paint me as unstable.

But looking at the world now? Looking at what Elon is doing? Looking at how drastically public perception of him has changed in just a few years?

Who’s crazy now?

I keep coming back to the same question: Why was I told this? Why did these entities make sure I knew? I wasn’t following this guy. I had no prior opinion about him. And yet, these beings went out of their way to warn me—again and again—before it was obvious to the general public.

That means something.

It means I wasn’t supposed to forget. It means this knowledge isn’t random. Maybe other people have gotten this message? Maybe it’s something bigger. But one thing is certain:

This place runs on deception, distraction, and control. And the truth?

The truth is waiting outside of it.