Infinite Mind

My dreams became a reality and my reality became a dream; I was now in full-blown psychosis.

I'm locked-away in a small white room that contains nothing but a mattress and three rigid, hard blankets. One as a pillow; one as a blanket and one as a cover for the thin mattress I'm meant to sleep on. A large, floor-to-ceiling window my only refuge from this isolation.

Days go by slowly in this room, nothing but my thoughts.

My mattress to the wall, I sit by the window and watch the late November snow fall, painting the branches of the large tree just outside this room, white. In this utter silence, I reach new heights of insanity despite the overwhelming sense of peace I feel. Not one supernatural entity escapes my attention. Here in this room, witches; werewolves; devils and aliens become tangible and real... I could almost feel their presence as they roam out there, free among the humans.

I start to become my thoughts... Live in the mind of a messiah, a devil, a sorcerer.

Being locked away from the others doesn't help. I can hear them out there in the halls, in the other rooms talking and shouting. My ears catch every sound and word, the brain incorporating whatever it hears into the intricate stories I've created... My senses heightened from the lack of external stimuli, I completely forget why I need contacts or glasses--can see every hair on my arm in such fine detail.

A desire to be one with the elements would often take over me. standing up, I press my chest to the cold window, and like a lizard on a plant, become one with it. I was the cold, the glass and the nature that lay in-front of me. After a few minutes I was too cold, too still and ventured forth for the other extreme: the heat. I warmed my body up with exercises, push-ups and kicks--the once cold heart beating fast releasing fire.

I can kind of see now why I was kept there, not even once told where I was or why I was there... It was perhaps so I could play it all out... get it out of my system and hopefully come out of it thinking rationally again. But before I was anywhere near rational, I went on many journeys--enough to inspire a book. It was actually a gift to be with myself uninterrupted around the clock, with the exception of the three meals I got daily. I no longer had the ability to escape boredom or discomfort with a book, a song, a movie or a person. I got to know the depths of my mind. And what I learned was that with enough continued silence I could believe anything I told myself. Definitely a useful tool if used properly.

Author's Note

This experience was enriching