Citation: Caz. "Never Again: An Experience with Dimenhydrinate (exp79197)". Erowid.org. Nov 21, 2020. erowid.org/exp/79197
I need to preface my experience with a few things; I've *never* done drugs in my life. I’ve never smoked pot, taken LSD, anything. In my 33 years of life, the 'hardest' drug I've ever ingested was aspirin. And even then, that gave me a stomach ache. That being said…
My wife and my son had left town for a couple of weeks to visit relatives a few states away, and I was left home by myself. Outside of my corporate little life, I’m a freelance artist, and I had been working on a few paintings to pass the time while my family was away. I had heard, while in college, that you could get some great ”visuals” to use for artistic purposes if you took hallucinogens like mushrooms, LCD, and oddly enough, Dramamine. I had thought it was foolish to try something like that, but, it had also piqued my curiosity. That was my first mistake… to assume that something must be safe if it’s over-the-counter. I figured I would try Dramamine at least once to see what sort of interesting, artistic, “spiritual” experiences would occur. That was my second mistake… there was nothing “hippy-dippy” or “spiritually opening” about my experience at all. It was hellish.
I started by taking three pills at a time, about 10 minutes apart, until all twelve in the package were used up. For a good 45 minutes, nothing happened. I sat and listened to music, surfing the web to pass the time. When I resolved myself to the fact that I was wasting my time, I stood up to go to bed. When I stood, it didn’t feel like I was standing up the whole way, almost as if I were stooping, even though I knew I was rod straight. Them, I stretched my arm out to turn off the monitor of my computer, only to find that I hadn’t extended my arm as far as I thought I had. The odd thing was… I could feel the button under my finger, but I was still a good six inches away.
My heart started racing, and I decided it was time to lay down. I had changed my mind at this point… but, that bell had already rung. As I walked, it felt like my feet had been dipped in concrete. I made it to the bed, flopped down, and closed my eyes… only to be assaulted by the magnesium flash of lights. It was impossible for me to blink without feeling like someone was shooting off a flash bulb. The shadows around my room began to dance, walk, sway. It was then that I began to panic; I was convinced that I was going to die, alone in my house… my wife would be a widow, and my son would grow up without his father, because I was stupid enough to convince myself that I would have an “artistic journey” by in effect overdosing on motion sickness pills.
Then, in the process of thinking this, a figure walked into my bedroom; it looked like a slim, male figure, but black, as though someone had painted him from head to toe. He walked with a slow gait to the door adjoining our bedroom. I have a bathrobe hanging from the door. The figure stopped in front of the bathrobe, and with his left hand started running his fingers across it, almost as if petting it. His head was arched out a little towards it, as though he were examining it, trying to get a better look. In my mind, I knew that there was no one there, but… it’s hard to deny something that looks THAT real.
At this point, I resolved to close my eyes and go to sleep, flash-bulbs be damned. It was the worst night of sleep I’ve ever had; my body felt like taffy in the morning. All I can say is, this is possibly the most foolish thing I’ve ever done in my life, and I will *NEVER* do it again.
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