When I was 16 I got introduced to Triple C's.
2 of my friends had just been introduced to them a few days before, and invited me along with for their next trip. We all went out and each got a box for ourselves, and took the first 8 at the same time. Now for a little perspective, I was 6'3" and used to weigh 300lbs, medicine always took a while to kick in because I had more mass. So here I am, an hour later, waiting for the trip to kick in, and my friends are already going hard. So I take the other 8 in my box.
An hour goes by and still nothing, so my friend offers me his other 8, and I down them thinking that maybe it is because of my size that I just need more to get me off.
Another hour goes by and I'm still sober as fuck. So my other friend gives me his other 8, and I down them. At this point I would like point out that I was 16, didn't drink, barely smoked pot, never tripped before ever, I was young, dumb, and had no idea what I was doing, and my friends were tripping and not helping with the scenario other than trying to get me on their level as fast as possible.
So here I am, 3 1/2 hours after my initial dosage, and it finally kicks in. But it hits me like a Mack Truck. I throw up everywhere. I'm cold sweating. I have no idea what's happening except that my friends are laughing, and I think I'm dying. My friends finally come down from their trips enough to sleep and now I'm up, shaking, seeing shit, my world is spinning and I just want it to be over.
So I lay down and try to sleep, but this is where the hallucinations start to hit me. I close my eyes and I was in an old theatre, the kind with big curtains the same color of red velvet as to match the seats. Balcony Box seats with gilded trim around the banisters. The theatre is huge... and empty, with the exception of my self, sitting there waiting for the curtains to draw and the show to begin. Next the curtains finally open, and from somewhere behind me an old Reel-to-Reel film projector kicks on, throwing an old timey black and white film across the screen. On the screen is death himself, Long black hooded robes, skeletal grin, scythe in one hand, my hand in the other: I am in the film, walking hand in hand with Death. Talking about life as if we were old friends. At this point I opened my eyes and was back in my friends house, still tripping, still shaking. So I closed my eyes to try and sleep, but I'm back in the theatre, the curtain draws, the Film projector kicks on, and there I am again, walking with death in a different scenario almost as if our conversation is a scene from the movie Waking Life. [ I never see the movie till years after my trip]
This whole thing happens again and again and again and again until the sun came up. At which point I made my friend drive me home. I am scared. I can't stop shaking and I'm still tripping hard. When I get home I immediately tell my parents what I did the night before. They make me chug a bunch of water, and tell me to go to bed and try to sleep it off. Only I can't sleep because every time I close my eyes I just find myself back in that theatre hanging out with the grim reaper.
Finally I came down, but the trip itself lasted something like 30+ hours. My parents grounded me, not for doing drugs, but for doing drugs stupidly. They're ex-hippies, and one of the reasons I got off so light is because they brought me up telling me "if you come home fucked up, just tell us immediately, and we won't be as angry with you as we would be if you lie to us".
I'll be 29yo next month and have significantly refined my use of drugs to a much more safe & knowledgeable state. This is to the point where I am now the mentor and guide for many of my friends acid, shroom, and DMT trips. With that being said, I haven't touched DXM since and to this day I always wonder just how close I came to actually dying. And just how much irreversible damage I did to my body, both mentally and physically. I do attribute most of my existential philosophies and conversations to my walk with death. Some times I'll be doing day to day activities and I'll have flash backs of being in the theatre hanging out with the Grim Reaper. It's almost like a reminder of my mortality and that at the end of the day, after all is said and done, He'll still be there... waiting to take my hand.