Ace's Dexperimental Report #1


On the occasion of my sixth DXM trip, I have decided to finally sit down and write what has happened during previous trips. I would like to present the current experience at a later date. But right now, I thought it would be more informative for those who are thinking of experimenting with DXM for me to try and relate, as clearly as possible, some of the sights, feelings, and thoughts one goes through while on this drug.

First, I should mention that I actually learned about DXM through this site (which I came across quite by accident-another story). When I was reading through the trip stories section, however, I found most of the accounts given by various DXM users to be convoluted and hard to relate to or follow. This is understandable, since the DXM experience can be quite difficult to describe. Therefore, the goal of this story is to provide a relatively clear description of my own personal trip for those who are thinking of trying it.

At about 6:00 p.m. on a Saturday in January, I took about 150 mg of DXM from a bottle of generic Tussin Max Cough (the equivalent of Robe Max Cough). I knew this wasn't a lot, but I figured that by doing it this way it wouldn't get on my nerves too much if I didn't like it. I also thought that whatever effects there were should kick in about an hour, so I had to find something to do. I knew I didn't want to be doing anything outside my room when it hit me, and that meant either play guitar or piano (which I really didn't feel like doing), listen to music (which I was trying to save for later) or watch TV. I don't know if you've ever tried to watch TV at 6:00 p.m. on a Saturday, but trust me, it takes a lot of effort. NOTHING IS ON. Also, my VCR was on the blink, which meant I couldn't watch any videos.

By 7:00, I still didn't feel anything and was beginning to get frustrated. I told myself that if I wasn't high by 7:45, I wasn't going to be, and it was all wasted. I would then take the rest of the bottle. Finally, I decided I had to get up and listen to some music. If anything would help pass the time, that surely would.

By 7:40, my room was quite dark. "In-a-gadda-da-vida" was in the CD player (I hadn't listened to it since high school), and finally the effects began to creep in slightly. I didn't even realize it until I noticed I had begun dancing a little when the drum solo started. I knew this wasn't going to be nearly enough to keep me entertained, however; it was like a shot of strong liquor. I decided to wait another 20 minutes and redose.

At 8:00, I was feeling what I now know was a very mild first plateau trip. I drank the rest of the bottle and changed the CD.

This second dose didn't take as long to kick in. At 9:00, I had taken 354 mg, and I was seriously stoned. Space appeared in three dimensions instead of two, much like the change in dimentional perception I get on LSD, and I was seeing tracers. These were not the "echo"-type tracers I got with acid, where the trails appear as several distinct copies of the same moving image, but rather appeared as smears. This was especially true with small LED lights, like the one on my stereo and on my VCR.

I was becoming frustrated with music. Music sounded much more lucid and melodies tended to flow directly from the original instruments straight to my ear (as if I were at a concert), but I was feeling very "antsy" and wanted to hear something that was fast and that didn't require a lot of patience. Finally I remembered I had just bought my first John Coltrane album.

Up to this point I had been sitting in the dark in the floor of my room, and I now had to stand up for the first time since I redosed. I did, and when I began to walk toward my CD collection, I noticed my legs didn't quite get the "walk" command from my brain correctly, or if they did, they were being assholes and were fucking around with me. This, despite feeling that I was floating approximately six feet above the floor. This was my first instance of the Robo-shuffle, which I have gotten every time since then. I was walking very stiffly, and my open hands were moving up and down like a robot's.

About this time a stray dog we had taken in that very day decided to walk into my room and explore. My stepfather was in the next room, and I certainly didn't want to talk to him at that moment, so I couldn't just yell at the dog to leave. This was probably the funniest thing that's ever happened to me on DXM, and even at the time, I knew it would have been hilarious to an observer. There I was, standing over this animal, silently mouthing the words "go...go on...out," while it stood there, not comprehending. Don't get me wrong, I love dogs, but not while I'm tripping. I was quite high at this point, and I thought that the dog didn't understand sound, so I thought I might be able to somehow communicate telepathically. I concentrated as intensely as I could, hearing the words, "I am really fucked up right now. Please leave me alone, and you will be rewarded." I really don't know why I did this, as I normally don't believe in telepathy, but at the time, I thought that animals could only truly understand communication with their minds. Needless to say, this didn't work either. But eventually it got the picture and left the room. When it did, I felt a slight wave of euphoria come over me.

I shuffled toward my lamp and turned it on, the first time I had seen any light since 6:00. When the light flooded the room, it seemed to kick my trip in even harder. I found it hard to read the small print on the CD's; I would never have found what I was looking for if it hadn't been left right on top of the pile. With great difficulty, I managed to put in the Coltrane CD and turned the light back off. When I did, a haze came over my eyes, so that the room appeared gray and foggy, not black. This is somewhat hard to describe; has anyone else experienced this? In any event, I found the headphones and hit play. I like Coltrane sober, but even if one doesn't like jazz, one should hear it on DXM. The notes come so quick and are so hard to follow that you just quit trying to follow it intensely, and relax, and let it provide a wonderful soundtrack for tripping.

The LED power light on my CD player seemed to be hovering above the rest of the image I was seeing; it appeared to be a kind of tiny red staircase, rising away from me. I shook my head back and forth rapidly and saw its trail smear all over my line of vision. This would clear up when I stopped shaking. My LED alarm clock sat at the top of a new computer desk that had been set up in my room that day, but it appeared to be at the top of a great wooden tower. This was probably due to poor depth perception.

At about 12:00 a.m. I decided to lie down in bed. The image of my alarm clock kept haunting me when I closed my eyes; I saw it float up to the ceiling, fly around my room, then turn into a pair of glowing red eyes. I was now peaking from the second dose, I think, and when I actually looked at the alarm clock, it was as though everything I was seeing was some kind of brilliant mural (mental wallpaper, I guess), with a hole being cut in the mural and the alarm clock peeking out this hole; it took on human qualities, and I felt that it was staring at me. It didn't seem frightening, somehow, but was still a bit disturbing. I lay in bed staring at the ceiling for several more hours. It didn't prove boring, however, as I began to formulate ideas about things that were going on in my life, ideas that I had previously thought about, but had pushed out of my mind. Uncomfortable things, perhaps, but I felt better about having given them light in my mind rather than keeping them locked up and letting them fester (college, employment, my family, girlfriends, etc.). At some point, early that morning, I fell asleep. I don't remember when I did, or when I returned to baseline. I just remember that it was very late.

The next morning's hangover was severe. My whole body ached, but it was not an entirely unpleasant ache; I imagine this would be similar to the hangover after marathon sex. Every time I yawned, my whole body shivered and ached, and it felt VERY good, like taking a tiny orgasm and spreading it out over my entire muscular system. I also felt very dirty, as though I had been bathing in syrup all night and it had saturated my skin through osmosis.

This was a very good first experience, and I swore that I would tell my best friends of it to get them to try DXM. Only one has so far, as most are unwilling to accept the idea that "you can get high off cough syrup." He actually likes DXM more than LSD; I don't know if I would give it that high an endorsement. I, meanwhile, have had only one bad experience out of seven, and the only reason it went badly was that I felt "down" before I dosed. I learned the hard way about that; DXM seems to be a mood enhancer, not a mood elevator like THC or MDMA. I plan my trips now, and even if I have had one planned and feel "down" when the day to trip arrives, I just wait until the next time rather than induce another bad dexperience. Overall, I would have to say that when used properly, DXM can be a great recreational drug.



1998 The Third Plateau
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