In the dream, a man with a head as bright as the sun walks
the streets aimlessly. His light is not intelligence or a warm radiance, but a
sick emanation, an ego shine. The man is me.
The scene shifts. I
lie in a dark hospital room. A tiny woman, with hair closely cropped to her
head, is whispering to me.
I am touched by what she is saying; the sickness of ego is
no longer blazing. A tiny light goes off
in my heart. I am freed, enlivened by a tender feeling.
I have this dream during a stay at a psych ward. When I wake up, I reason, “I have an ego, yes,
but is it really all that big?”
One evening, later in the stay, I have a panic attack. I
struggle until bedtime to keep myself together. I am extremely happy when I can
get to bed and just focus on my breathing.
I wake up early the next morning. Something has occurred to
me. I have been full of myself, and the panic attacks I have are my body’s way
of taking me down a few pegs – I may be book smart, but can’t even rely on the
integrity of my own mind on a day to day basis.
I stumble out of my bedroom, take a shower. On the way back
to my room, a young woman, Jonetta, stops me. No one pays her much mind – she
seems to always be stumbling around, clamoring for attention, with her froggy
whisper that none of the nurses or patients can ever make out.
She is really keen on telling me something. I lean in close
so I could hear.
“The medicine makes me so sleepy,” she croaks, “I can hardly
talk. They need to lower my medication.”
I repeat this back to her, and her eyes light up. “Yes! Yes!
No one will listen to me.”
I realize, Jonetta is the woman from the dream.
I relay to one of the (nicer) nurses what Jonetta had told
me, but the nurse is dismissive. She says that I don’t know what Jonetta is
there for, and I am not a doctor – I couldn’t know what she needs.
Thus, I have learned a little bit more about the
helplessness of the psychiatric patient “in the system”. But I have learned
more about myself, and I have made a new friend.
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