Free Write 8/31/19

I had a dream a long time ago where I was in a room with two angels and a bad person.  They were sitting on a sofa, in front of a television, the two girls sitting on the sides, and the man in the middle.  The image of it was simple but the tone overwhelmingly alarming and penetrating.  It was a dream that marked off a new point in my life, where I went from being concerned about one set of problems to another, if you want to think about it that way.  I remember that in front of them there was a television, and I can’t remember the image of it, but I think it was something with a person with a cane, walking.  I think it would be funny, but questionable, to say that this was a dream that was sparked by me and my psychological senses, to show something important that will/would happen in the future.  Would a person who walked with a cane be the next president, or mayor?  Would they be a good or bad political leader? 

When I moved into my new apartment building, the realty agent showed my dad and I the laundry room.  Outside of it was a miniature lounge area where people would sit waiting for their laundry to be washed and dried.  I almost went into shock when after a period of time I realized that it was the exact atmosphere of my dream- not just it being a couch with a tv in front of it, but an atmosphere that was recognizable as what was possibly the exact atmosphere of the dream.  Was this because something was to go down in that area, after I had moved into the apartment building? 

When I did a study at the University of Chicago as a person with schizophrenia who had mental abilities to be tested, a doctor came into the room and asked if I had ever been catatonic.  I didn’t know what to say, so I said no, but if I could go back, I would say, yes, I have been before.  Sometimes I feel catatonic when I am sitting or standing somewhere and I know someone is there but can’t see them, seemingly because I don’t want to look up.  It is like the thing in me doesn’t want to look up, like it is a muscle I can’t flex, or like I can’t put the right words to mind so I go having dementia symptoms. 

Yesterday I was sitting in the lobby waiting for my laundry to be done, and I was sitting in an armchair, and the sofa was across from me, and the chair and sofa where both in front of the television.  I could feel someone in the room, but I didn’t look up, initially.  Then a guy passed by, walking into the laundry room.  He looked like a guy named Chris who went to high school with me.  His hair was partially shaved, and the rest of it was in a ponytail.  This was not how I remembered him- all grown up and mature, kind of scary, in a way.  When he walked out, he passed by kind of in a hurry, trying to look away from me and the couch.  This was when something in me didn’t know if I was going crazy.

Then I looked up and saw the semi outline/grey shadow of a person.  It was a male with what seemed like a buz cut, and he was leaning forward, as if to show that he was understanding me, like he was trying to say, “…yes…” about something.  I didn’t know what to think.  Then I sat back and closed my eyes periodically and thought of a bunch of things, and then I looked back to the shadow to see the image sticking his middle finger up at me.  The image reminded me of a guy named Peter from high school- I could feel the presence of him and his personality and his demeanor, and I could feel his hate while he stuck his middle finger at me.  I finally understood a few moments later that he thought I was trying to be provocative, and then I just kind of laughed it off, in my mind.

I know that sounds insane.  This is the question that came up while the whole thing was happening- am I losing my mind?  Was it the schizophrenia, or was my catatonic state what led to me not being able to see the actual body of the guy sitting there, but just the shadow, and outline, if you will?  Somethigin not real, but questionable, as something that goes beyond the definition of reality? 

Or maybe it was because it was around one in the morning and my tiredness led to delusional mental uproar.  Or maybe outlines are the thing of the future, where people could screw other people but don’t?

The world may never know.