Citation: David Snow. "My Long Experiences: An Experience with DXM with CPM & Various (exp51901)". Erowid.org. Sep 30, 2007. erowid.org/exp/51901
Most Coricidin contains CPM (Chlorpheniramine Maleate) which can be dangerous in high doses. See DXM Brand Warnings for more info.]
||(pill / tablet)
I have been an avid reader of experiences since I was 16. I'm 21 now and this is the first time I've actually submitted my own report. I'm only doing it now because I feel I need to contribute something to the drug culture. So here it goes.
I first learned about Coricidin Cough and Cold tablets from an ex-girlfriend. I was in a rut because there wasn't any drugs available in my town due to the local narcotics task force pretty much cleaning out all of my supplies. So she pulled these pills out of her dresser. I was skeptical at first, but when she compared the experience to LSD, well, she had me hooked.
The first time I tried them I took 8 tablets. I was sort of disappointed because all I had was this weird body buzz. I sat around waiting for what seemed like hours. Then a friend of mine showed up with about an eighth of weed. After the first hit I took, I felt the difference. It was like everything around me disappeared and it was only my friend, the pot, and I. I remember watching the garage door open and close about a hundred times, but later my friend told me I was in the living room the whole time.
Well, that first trip hooked me. I know DXM is not physically addicting, but if anybody tells me that it's not mentally, I'd probably argue my point to the death. The very next day I went to my local Meijer's and got every box of Coricidin they had. Later on that day I convinced my best friend to eat some with me. We each took 16 pills each and went for a walk around town. Everybody seemed to have something to say to us. They all wanted to know what we were on, and when we told them over the counter cough medicine, well, they all kind of laughed at us. Well, I've never been the type of person to care what anybody thinks of my drug habits, but my friend was. He convinced me to go back to my house with him, so I finally agreed.
My house was a nice old victorian style, so it really lets off a sort of aura. As soon as I walked in, I think I jumped a plateau. Once again I had tunnel vision, and time seemed to slow down. I remember staring at the clock at the wall and telling my friend that time had stopped. In my mind that was my first great trip, on anything. My friend and I pretty much spent the rest of our summer tripping everyday. I had a period of time that summer where I tripped nonstop for 26 days straight. I would wake up in the morning, if I even went to sleep at all, and take another box of the devil pills.
Well, as you can imagine, like any normal person I had certain obligations that I was supposed to fulfill. I did my best to take care of them, but eventually I just quit caring about them. All I cared about was tripping. My girlfriend broke up with me for my best friend, and I didn't even care. I actually continued to trip with him occasionally, but I was basically on my own by then. I wasn't paying for any of my trip, I was stealing it from anywhere that sold it. Eventually the proprieters of the stores I was looting caught on to me. They tried to catch me in the act, but I was too fast. I would be in and out of a store in less than a minute sometimes. Then one day they tried to stop me at the door. I was tripped out, and I just attacked the guy that tried to stop me. After I hit him a couple of times, I took off running. I didn't even give any thought to the fact that everywhere has cameras. So later on that same night the cops were knocking on my door. I gave up and let them take me in.
While I was in jail, I heard someone talking about this retarded kid that walks around town tripping balls on Coricidin. After listening to him for a few minutes, I realized he was talking about me. I took it kind of hard that someone would actually call me retarded, especially since he didn't know the guy he was talking about was listening to every word he said. So that was the first time I decided to quit tripping for good. I moved back up north with my parents. I forgot to mention I was only 16 when I started this story, but I had moved out of my parent's place and got a place of my own. and went back to school. I did okay for about 6 months, and I even began to feel normal again. I hadn't even realized the state of mind the constant tripping had put me in.
Then one day I was at my pot dealer's house getting a bag, and I met a couple of brother's that had moved up north from Detroit. They seemed really cool, and after talking with them for a while, they brought up Robotripping. I had researched about DXM enough to know that it is the main ingredient in most cough medicines, including Robo and Cori's. I had never tried Robo before, but I told them about my experience's with Coricidin. They found it very interesting that they didn't have to drink cough syrup to trip, so they asked if they got some Coricidin, would I trip with them. I told them I had no problem tripping, as long as they didn't expect me to steal it for them. They said no problem, they could steal anything. So to make a long story short, they showed me where they lived, and let me stay there while they went to steal it.
When they got back we all took 2 boxes of Coricidin a piece, 32 pills, about 960 mg DXM. Their family was staying in some camper trailers their grandfather owned. We sat around the campfire and started to feel it coming on. I got the old familiar prickles on my scalp, and I felt my eyes widen. It was getting late, and we were just bullshitting about our previous trips. I remember thinking, 'Wow, I actually found people like me, I can be myself again.' At about that time I fell over in my chair and bounced my forehead right off the ground. I didn't even care, and we all just had a good laugh about it.
About that time someone suggested we all go for a bike ride. It was dark out and when we went to go grab our bikes from where we left them, I seen about a million bikes laying everywhere. I asked my new friends how I was supposed to know which one was mine, and they didn't understand what I was talking about. So, not wanting to seem stupid again, I just started trying to pick up one bike at a time. Every time I would grab one, it would just sort of vaporize into thin air. Later my friends told me they watched me reach down and try to grab nothing but air about 20 times before they finally showed me where my bike was.
After we finished our bike ride, which to this day I don't remember anything about, we pulled back onto their property and started walking back to their trailer. This is the weird part, because all 3 of us hallucinated the exact same thing. We walked up to the trailer, but it was a completely different style of camper than it really was. The camper we were looking for was an old green style one that you hook up to a trailer hitch and pull behind your truck. The style we all saw was the type that goes right onto the bed of your truck, and sits on some sort of stilts when it's not on your truck.
Naturally, we figured we had came to the wrong campsite, so we turned around and went to look for the right one. Eventually we realized we had the right spot after all. We went back, and all that was there was a huge dome. I mean a dome looking structure that still resembled living quarters. We were all confused and I asked what the hell was going on. Nobody knew. We stood outside the dome, and listened for familiar sounds. Soon we heard their sister inside the dome talking to somebody. Now we were even more confused. Eventually their sister opened the door and asked what the hell we were doing. We just shook it off and went inside. I suddenly saw the humor in all of this, and I couldn't stop laughing. They joined in, and their sister just thought we were all crazy.
We spent the rest of the night in the trailer, tripping ballz. I was sitting in a chair in the middle of the kitchen area and I saw something floating around me. I tried concentrating on it and then I saw it for what it was. It was a sort of red spider web that was shaped like a basketball, but it kept shifting shapes. I was mesmorized with it. Later on, I was sitting across from the bigger of the two brothers. He was picking at a sore on his face. It kind of bugged me, and I kept watching. All of a sudden I watched him rip off the side of his face and slap it down in front of me. I was horrified, and I just kept staring at him. I actually saw the inside of his face, the bones and muscles and blood and gore.
Some sort of goo started to pour out of his eyes, and then the goo took the shape of tiny little martians. As I studied their habits, I noticed that they seemed to be playing some sort of musical instruments that resembled trombones. I couldn't hear them though, and it upset me. I closed my eyes and concentrated really hard on hearing their music, and then I heard it. They were playing my favorite band, Rehab. When I opened my eyes, everything was back to normal. I asked them if they had heard Rehab playing, and they said no. It was about that time I decided to call it a night, and I laid down to go to sleep.
Anyways, I include this last trip not to glorify it, but because this was the one time I ever had open-eyed visuals on any kind of DXM. Even today I don't hallucinate like that, other than the occasional monster in the pitch dark room.
So my new friends and I started tripping together all the time. The time passed quickly, as it does when I binge on DXM. After awhile one of the brothers took it to the next level and started combining DXM with anything he could get his hands on. His favorite was a delirium found in dramamine or benedryl allergy sinus pills. I had begun to get my shit together by then, but I was still tripping. The other brother and I both got jobs and we got a nice place together with his girlfriend. We let his brother stay with us rent free, and he spent most of his time on another planet. I was experimenting with other drugs like cocaine and crank, since I had money to pay for them now. I still tripped occasionally, but not nearly as much.
On the crazy (I'm sorry to say crazy, because I feel bad to characterize him as that, but I can't think of a way to differentiate between the two brothers without using their names. Sorry.) brother's birthday, I got an 8-ball of crank to celebrate. I didn't realize it, but he was tripping on Robo, Coricidin, and Benedryl already. I guess he had just taken them, and I didn't think to ask. Anyways, I loaded up about 1/2 a gram onto a foily and gave him the biggest hit of his life. It was what we call a bell-ringer, because it feels like your brain is vibrating inside your head. He fell over backwards and passed out. We all thought it was funny, and we woke him up. He was so messed up, all he could do was ask for another hit. So we all got really tweaked out.
After about an hour, I looked at him, and his face was beginning to flush scarlet. By this time the other brother was in his room with his girl, doing what I'd be doing if my girl was there. I asked him if he was alright, and he said he was. I began to study his habits, and decided that I shouldn't smoke anymore meth with him. After about 15 minutes he asked me if we could smoke some more. I told him I was gonna save the rest for later, since we were all moonwalking already. He hadn't had enough, though, and he kept asking for more. I didn't want to tell him that I thought he had already had enough, but eventually I had to. He took this to mean that I was just being greedy, and he tried to intimidate me to get me to let him have more. I told him it wouldn't work.
He stood up like he was going to come take it himself, so I stood up also and picked the mirror up that had the dope on it. I seen his eyes lock onto it and he started to come towards me. I was pretty worried, because I'm kind of a big guy, but he had about 50 lbs on me. Then he kind of stumbled and I took the opportunity to walk right around him into my room. I put the dope back into a baggy, after I did a bump of course, and hid it carefully. When I went back out into the living room, he was already passed out on the couch. I was relieved and I left for my girlfriend's house.
His brother and I began to get pretty worried about him, but we didn't know how we were supposed to interject. We figured that we were both druggies too, and we had no place to tell him what to do. I wish I had just done it anyways. A couple of months later, I was sitting in the living room getting ready to smoke a bowl out of my favorite bong. The crazy brother came in and sat down in the chair next to me. I was so used to him being fucked up that I didn't even look at him to see what he was on. I just passed him the bong. He took a huge rip out of it and passed it back. I looked at him and saw it all happen. He looked behind him towards the door and let out a blood curtling scream. All of a sudden he began to convulse in the chair.
I didn't know what to do, and then he just stopped. His eyes went blank and his face started to turn blue. I could see he wasn't breathing and I started to scream for his brother, who was in the room with his girl. Neither of us knew what to do. I mean, I'm not a fucking paramedic, I was lost. All of a sudden it was like he let out a huge breath, and snot, blood, and something else just poured out his mouth and nose. I lost it and ran out the front door to go find a phone. I screamed at my neighbor across the street to let me use his phone, someone was dying in my house. He just looked at me like I was crazy, which I probably was at the moment. So I just spit in his direction and ran down the street looking for a payphone. I found one and called an ambulance.
When I got off the phone, I didn't want to go back. I know that sounds terrible, but I was more scared than I've ever been, even more than when some asshole put a gun in my face. I just knew I was gonna go back and he was gonna be dead. But I knew that I couldn't leave his brother alone with him, so I went back. When I got back, he was still unconscious, but he was breathing. His brother was all white and shaking. I don't think he said a word the whole time. About that time the ambulance got there, along with the cops. They came in and asked what he was on. We didn't know, all we could say is that he took over the counter medicine alot. They went through his pockets and found 3 empty boxes of coricidin and 2 empty boxes of Benadryl allergy sinus. He also had a bunch of bottles of model paint. That really got to me, because I didn't know he was huffing stuff to get high. They put him on the stretcher and put him in the ambulance.
While the paramedics were taking him out, I noticed the stupid cops were trying to get a free search of my house. I had about 3/4 of a gram of crank on a mirror under the table, so I asked what the fuck they thought they were doing. They said that because somebody overdosed in my house, they were allowed to search for drugs. I told them that he didn't take it in my house, he came in that way, and anyways, you already found the empty boxes of the stuff he took, so get out! They didn't like it, but that was the
one time I can actually say that the cops had to listen to me. I shooed them out the front door and locked up behind me.
About that time he woke up in the back of the ambulance and started to go nuts. They had made the mistake of not strapping him to the gourney, so he tried to get out of the ambulance. All I could see was cops and paramedics getting annihilated in the back of that ambulance. One paramedic tried to get on his back and put him in a sleeper hold. He stood up with him on his back and slammed the paramedic into one of the boxes overhead in the ambulance. The poor guy just kind of crumpled up on the floor. I heard later he broke the guy's collarbone. His brother and I climbed in the back and tried to calm him down. I could see a crazed look in his eyes, but after a few minutes he let us get him to lay down.
He ended up being okay physically after this. I am convinced that he lost his mind that day, though. He was never the same. He tried to cut his wrists about 20 times and even his girlfriend couldn't deal with him anymore. He ended up in the Wayne County Jail a couple of months later facing a long prison sentence. We told the jailers that he was suicidal, but they didn't seem to care. He hung himself while I was in jail myself. I heard about it from a guy that I hated, and I cried in front of him. He was the best friend I've ever had, and I never stepped in and tried to get him to quit.
I'm telling this story really to get it off my chest. I hope it can help somebody out there who reads it. I myself have never been the same. I spent a year of my life in prison for something I did while I was tripping. I don't even remember doing it. Ever since I heard about my friend dying, I haven't been the same. Since I was old enough to go to jail, I've spent most of my time in there, mostly for petty stuff like stealing Robotussim and Coricidin, and worse stuff like breaking into houses. Even as I write this I am a fugitive of the M.D.O.C. and I still take robo and coricidin 2-3 times a week. I don't even trip like I used to. It numbs the pain, and mainly makes me confused.
I have the desire to do better, but I've messed up so much, I can't find a job because I'm a fugitive, and I'm living with friends who still think I'm useful. I feel so depressed that I relate to every sad song I hear. I'm 21 years old now, I'll be 22 in August. I started tripping 5 years ago. When I started it was for fun. After I did it so much it numbed me inside. I'd like to change my name to Mr. Apathy, cause I don't wanna care about anything. I hope that people will read this and decide that DXM is not a drug to be used recreationally. It's fun in the beginning, but eventually it takes on a different meaning. I try to find something else to take it's place, but nothing compares to the high I get from it.
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