Carl Hayden Smith says 78% of IV DMT users see entities, and some meet the entities' children

Carl Hayden Smith says 78% of people in an intravenous DMT project are seeing entities, and not just entities. Some, he says, are being introduced to the entities’ children, which is the kind of sentence that makes psychedelic research sound less like neuroscience and more like Bring Your Kid to Work Day in the astral realm.

That is the claim from Smith’s appearance on the Danny Jones Podcast, and it is both the silliest and most interesting thing here. Not because it proves there are elf parents somewhere beyond the veil. It doesn’t. But because the modern DMT conversation has moved from, “I saw impossible geometry,” to, “The entities are doing family introductions.” Once the machine elves have childcare, you are no longer merely tripping. You are attending a neighborhood barbecue inside your visual cortex.

like I said, 78% of people are seeing entities, but not just entities, but the children of entities.

The number is doing the heavy lifting. Seventy-eight percent sounds crisp, almost bureaucratic, like a survey result you would see in a PDF with a university logo on it. The content attached to it, however, is pure high strangeness. Smith is talking about extended intravenous DMT, sometimes called DMTx, where the drug can be continuously administered and adjusted rather than delivered as one short rocket launch. That matters because the classic DMT trip is often over before language can put its shoes on. Smith’s pitch is that a longer, curated experience might let researchers, or at least the trippers, spend more time inside the weirdness.

The hospital ward is the worst portal

Smith’s other persuasive point is less cosmic and more practical: maybe don’t ask people to commune with ultimate reality in a room that smells like blood pressure cuffs. He describes being cannulated, with blood going in one arm and DMT going into the other, trying to navigate a white disc at the bottom of his bed. Mysticism, but with fluorescent lighting. The man is basically asking to replace “clinical trial room” with “ritual spa day,” and for once the woo has a point.

you’re doing these things in a hospital ward where you associate, you know, hospitals with death, dying, disease. And then you’re actually trying to trip in that context.

His proposed Caribbean setup sounds part research protocol, part Goop retreat for people who have read too much Terence McKenna: breakfast, snorkeling on the barrier reef, a three-hour lomi lomi massage, then a controlled intravenous DMT session. Is that science or luxury tourism with a molecule? The honest answer is that it could be both, which is exactly where psychedelic research keeps getting culturally messy. Set and setting are real. So are incentives, aesthetics, and the human tendency to call the nice version of an experiment “more authentic.”

you have a light breakfast where you go out snorkeling on the barrier reef. Then you come back and you have a like a 3-hour lomi lomi massage. And then you go into your DMT experience, which can be kind of curated.

The claim is not proof. It is a filing cabinet full of weird reports

Smith is strongest when he talks like a witness and weakest when the metaphysics starts trying to wear a lab coat. He describes DMT visions with a computer scientist’s vocabulary: interfaces, signs, holographic language, persistent motifs. At one point, he says he sees a message at the edge of his vision telling him, essentially, to continue until the trip itself says stop. That is fascinating as phenomenology. It is not evidence that someone outside the brain is operating the signage.

The first one is I see a sign at the corner of my vision which is like, “You’re doing well. Do more. Do more. Take more DMT.” And then it’s like, “You’ve done enough DMT.”

Still, the better version of Smith’s argument doesn’t require you to buy the full interdimensional daycare package. If many people under extended DMT report beings, and some report social structures among those beings, that is a pattern worth studying. Not worshiping. Studying. Psychedelic research has spent years selling itself through therapeutic respectability, depression, PTSD, end-of-life anxiety. Smith is dragging it back toward the embarrassing stuff everyone secretly clicks on: entities, symbols, cosmic architecture, the feeling that consciousness may be less like a light switch and more like a haunted operating system.

Jones, to his credit, punctures the séance with the right amount of idiot poetry. When Smith and Jones talk about seeing code in a laser while on DMT, Jones says the first time he saw gears and script like something from Lord of the Rings. The next time, he says, he saw “infinite dicks flying at me.” This is why the subject resists becoming too solemn. Every claim about hidden language in the universe has to survive the possibility that the universe is also sending you a screensaver made of penises.

And then the final time I saw it, it was like infinite dicks flying at me. And I thought maybe that was like them telling me to [ __ ] off and stop trying to do it, you know.

So, no, Smith has not shown that DMT entities have children. He has shown something almost as compelling for listeners: the reports are getting more specific, more repeatable in their themes, and much harder to file under “pretty colors.” If 78% is the real figure, the next question is not whether the entities are real. It is why so many human brains, under the same molecule, keep inventing company.