One Mad Mind to Another

I. INTERVENTION (14 pages)

I knew you would come. You need to hear this, you need to understand. I have only just moved beyond the threshold, and it has already changed my very understandings of reality. Just yesterday I was recounting to a friend a dream I'd had the night before. Well, I was recounting it to my mother… but anyways, I said to her, I said: I was running. From what? I don't know. I remember my heart pounding out of my chest, my lungs dried of oxygen. Something was chasing me; a monster, a devil, such a grotesque being. Do you know how it feels? To be afraid? I had never felt it like that; I am telling her all this, but you must understand it truly is frightening. I had climbed a fence and cut myself coming over the top, but as I fell to the other side, my mind was overcome with a woman’s screams. And as I turned to find the source of this gut wrenching shriek, I realize I had wandered into the middle of the freeway. All of a sudden, my body becomes too heavy to hold up on my own and I'm sinking into the pavement, clawing at my ears, in agony at the screaming, and just as I am about to face what I can only assume to be death, I am thrust into the sheets of my bed, and for God’s sake I sit up yelling at the top of my lungs, for whatever it is, or was I had just survived, I was, as a result of it, reborn. It wasn't death that was hurtling toward me, but life. This is why, my friend, I am glad it is you that has come, and not him, because I know only you will understand. You must try. For the decades of my existence that have passed, it has all been part of some twisted purgatory but, I swear to you, the writing has been on the wall. It IS on the wall, still! Wake up! Wake up, god damnit. You, them, you are all wasting away into the depths of human despair. Wake up, my friend. Wake up!

I say all of this to her, exactly as I have told you, and do you know what she does? My own mother? She slaps me across my cheek, and then, as though I’d done the same to her, she is suddenly crying. I look at her, this proud woman, brought to tears, but she is just like the rest. Bewildered by the very concept of freedom from constraint, unable or unwilling to look beyond the societal veil of simple existence. All of these people, walking the streets as though they are in some viagra commercial, none of them aware of the euphoria beyond their accepted realm of existence. They do not know what lies just on the other side. My poor mother is no different. Like the rest, she dismisses men like me as mad; driven away from consciousness by our work; drifted to a mental state only to be brought back by popping another pill. But what they don’t understand is that where we have fear, we have desire, and without going where we are afraid to go, we will never achieve our ultimate dreams, nor be our true selves. We call these things fantasy, or magic. They are just beyond our grasp, why bother to try? But my friend, this is the biggest lie we tell ourselves. A lie that has been instilled in our minds by generations of fear and settlement, but we are not stuck here. We can transcend our dimension, this skill is innate in our minds and yet for most, it is never utilized. So, my friend, I invite you, nay, command you once again, wake up!

I understand that this might be a lot to throw at you at this point. After all, you do not yet have the ability to fully grasp what it is I am revealing to you. Do not fear my child, I will explain everything from beginning to end and you will understand, oh I do hope you will. This is not a recommendation, fairy tale or folklore, this is a prescription. What I am about to recount to you is a therapy you did not know you needed. Through these pages I will provide for you the ability to move beyond everything that inhibits you, all with a power that lies dormant in your brain. Join me, my friend, join me in enlightenment.

The madness began for me, early in my nineteenth year. At that point, I was like you. Normal. Passive. I thought only about sex, money and sex. And when I found myself thinking of something else, something transcendent, it was always derived from sex, money or sex. But I digress. In the spring, I attended a carnival, but not a good one; it was one of those traveling contraptions that most likely threatened the lives of those who partook in its gaudy lights and clownery. I had gone with some friends from school. I was, upon arriving at the pier, which housed the attractions, still stumbling through the dream most of us call life. It was at this seemingly innocent place, and among the screaming mothers and puking children, that I met Lailah. This was no ordinary encounter my friend, it was, as I would later learn, predetermined. But in the moment we met, all I could think about, with my feeble mind racing through all possible philosophical responses, was, you guessed it, sex.

Earlier that evening, I had retreated into the men’s bathroom, accompanied by a friend. Together we stood at the urinals, silent, encapsulated by the relief of emptying our bladders, coupled with the dull roar of the shrieks of amusement carrying through the windows above us. It was in this moment that I felt it. I describe “it” as “it” because I truly, even after all of these years, have found no better word to describe, well, “it”. What I felt was something inside my brain, a shifting of sorts, something had clicked into place. It was although my ears had suddenly been opened to a another level of stimulation. And in that moment, surrounded by so much distraction and lack of focus, I heard the sound of a violin. I was drawn to it, like a sailor lured by the songs of Sirens. I ran from the bathroom, and somehow my feet knew exactly where to carry me. At the far end of the pier, I stumbled upon the source of the melody. Standing against the railing, focussed only on the whimsy of her instrument, was Lailah.

My mind settled from its racing and I felt a rush of warmth like nothing I had ever experienced before. I felt as though I was being lowered into an oven. And then, I really felt like I was being lowered into an oven. My friend, it got hot. Very hot. I began to believe that if my body were to withstand the pressure for even a second longer, I would melt into the boards of the pier. But I could not bring myself to look away, I was transfixed on the violin. And the song… oh the song. It was getting faster and louder. It seemed the whole world was shaking and the ocean moving to the chords. I feel as though my blood is beginning to boil and my eyes, they are watering, blurring my vision. I drop to my knees and just as I feel my heart will surely stop, the violin ceases to command the waves and as suddenly as it began, it is over.

What I heard then, was nothing. You cannot even begin to understand it until you’ve lived it, but it was as though every sound, every movement of breath in the world had suddenly come to an abrupt halt. It was what I had imagined space would be like, absent of all sensorial incitement. My body was paralyzed, leaving me stranded at the edge of the pier. I could only move my head, and with it I looked around me. There was nothing. If this is confusing, allow me to elaborate. Everything that I had witnessed, the rides, the cotton candy, even the pier, it had all faded away. It was as though I had fallen into complete darkness, but part of me could still feel the rough of the wooden boards beneath my knees. But, my friend, what bothered me the most was the sound. I would scream and hear nothing. I could feel my lips move, my tongue bounce in my mouth and the air moving in and out of my lungs, but I heard nothing; absolutely nothing. I felt as though someone or something was pounding on the inside of my head, blood rushing around, bumping into walls, this was unprecedented. I thought I must have died. This must be it. I had certainly shuffled off my mortal coil. Was this hell? Was I doomed to this darkness? This soundless, motionless pit of despair?

As though my questions had been heard, I felt an uncomprehendingly brief sensation of falling, and I awoke in my bed. But, no, I realize this is not my bed, no. How could it have been that easy? Not for me… no this is an unfamiliar bed, and I am frantically searching for some sign of familiarity. But then, with no warning, I am brought swiftly back to reality by the sound of a door closing and the flooding of artificial light into the small room. I see the faces of my friends, my family, as well as those of men I do not recognize.

One of these men approached the bed, shining a bright light into my eyes and muttering something to the others. My mother is then all of sudden grabbing me by the hand, tears in her eyes, and saying something. I couldn’t translate it to words. All of the conversation sounded like muffled noise. I tried to open my mouth to tell her this, but my muscles would not cooperate with my mind. My brain was beginning to pound again, and I closed my eyes, clenching them shut, trying to force the pounding out. And then, just as before, it all ceased abruptly. And, upon opening my eyes, I realized why.

The room was empty again; my friends, family and the men had gone. All that remained in the room was a singular figure at the foot of my bed. A girl. Lailah.

She looked my age, and had long blonde hair, fair skin and the bluest eyes I had ever seen. I will be honest with you, she was, from where I was lying, perfect. As if designed by God specifically to be the most beautiful human being he was ever to create. After everything that had happened, and with the current state of my mind, the first thing I thought of, was, as I told you, sex. And that was the moment that I realized Lailah could read my mind.

She slowly moved to the side of the bed and leaned in toward my lips. Oh, my friend, I had been with girls before, but not one like this. I could feel my breathing grow labored and my heart begin to beat with the rhythm of the moment. As she grew closer, I was immediately overwhelmed by the scent of vanilla, and an indescribable warmth across my whole body. Her lips touched mine and as she climbed into the bed, we passionately kissed one another. She pulled off my shirt and began slowly caressing what felt like every part of my body. And, as I laid in shock, she grabbed my hands and placed them on her breasts, which I found felt better than I had ever imagined they could.

I will spare you the details of what happened next, but I felt as though I was having sex with an angel; like it could never get better than what I was feeling in that moment. It was far beyond anything I had ever experienced before and anything I would have ever hoped to. In that strange room, on that lost day, Lailah changed my life forever. And I didn’t even know her name yet.

I laid in the bed staring at the ceiling. My mind was racing, trying to process what had just occurred. You cannot begin to imagine what I had just felt, I mean the ultimate expression of pleasure. This woman, I had not said a word to her, nor could I, and yet she had given me all that I longed for in life. I felt as though I was floating through time, I had found love. I tell you my friend, it was a crazy feeling. I had never… well I had crushes before, but never like this. This was a feeling with no comparison. All of the worry I had felt drained away. I mean it was sex, that’s it, and somehow it was more than that. This act that we as humans have become so prude to, and yet sex is all most of us think about. I thought I was mad. At least overthinking it. I mean this was new, uncharted waters, I was reborn.

She was still in bed beside me, her head pressed against my chest, and I silently prayed to myself, begging to live forever in that moment. And in that instant, and I swear to you, I am recounting this exactly as I remember, she looked up at me, smiled, and said, “You can.”

I was taken aback, I had not heard discernable words for what felt like an eternity. I tell you, it was as though a deaf man had just heard a human’s voice for the first time. And my God, what a voice she had. It was unique you see, like a hypnotic rhythm of song. I struggled, my eyes glazing over in lust, opening my mouth as if to respond. But before I could turn a single thought into a coherent sentence, my eyelids began to feel heavier and my vision began to swirl. I lied helplessly as the figure moved from the bed, and as I passed into unconsciousness, I watched her walk out the door.

Everything was black again. And silent. I was in space-mode once again, but it was not as intimidating this time around. I felt safer, like a warmth had been injected into my bloodstream. This, my friend, had in my mind, only one attributable cause. Yes! The intimacy I had shared with Lailah. And mind you, I still at this point was unaware of her name. This mysterious girl had somehow reinforced my neurological capacities. I felt invincible. Strong. I could conquer any fear, it was miraculous, it was like a drug of sorts, you understand? It was incredible, some sort of a high. I had to uncover its meaning. I needed to understand.

The darkness gives way and I am walking down my street. I see my house, the house I had lived in since I was a child. Had I been hallucinating? How did I end up here? The nostalgia I felt is replaced with fear, all of the strength I’d had just moments ago has vanished! But then familiarity, there are the neighborhood kids riding their bicycles and the mailman, I sense these anchors and I feel at ease. I am at home. I tell myself this. Everything is fine… breathe. Walking across the lawn, I think I smiled. It felt good to be home after all that I had been through. Breathe...

Then, I saw it.

If I had looked any quicker, or blinked, I might have missed it, but it was, in this case, all too clear. Our driveway was cobblestone, and more than that, it was hand-made, by my father and I several years back. So, obviously, I remember this driveway very clearly, every stone we cut and laid. I remember all of the mistakes, all of the love that went into it. But looking at it now, a feeling of horror fills my body. The rectangular stones are laid horizontally, but I am looking now and they are vertical. It is a subtle difference but a difference nonetheless. Everything looks the same, but the driveway, it's different. I looked back toward the house and watched in terror as it began to disappear, I was screaming, and it felt so real, but I heard nothing. I ran toward it, toward the house I had grown up in, but the ground beneath me was sinking into the Earth. Falling to my knees, I desperately searched around me, I needed an anchor, this was all a tease. Then, just as before, there she was. Lailah.

The world was crumbling around us, but somehow there was tranquility in the small circle of light we shared. She looked down at me, and like the flick of a switch, I forgot all of my worries and was filled with warmth. “Find me when you wake up” she whispered.

The feeling of falling once again filled my mind, and then… darkness.

“Mister, are you okay?”

I opened my eyes to a crowd of people standing around me. Their collective gaze portrayed a combination of concern and suspicion. The faint sounds of the carnival drifted from further down the pier.

Rubbing my head, I realized I was lying on the ground and quickly stood up.

“Are you okay?” I turned to find one of the carnival’s concession workers, obviously uneasy about my condition.

“Yes, I am fine. Just stumbled a bit on the pier” I said, but was almost immediately met with a restless murmur from the audience I had somehow amassed.

“Well… you were lying there for quite sometime, is all” his voice trembled. I thought of telling him to pound sand, but I was not the man I had been before. I smiled and calmly observed the situation. My mind felt unlocked. Powerful. There were 15 people surrounding me, 7 women, 8 men. I felt like I knew them all. I could feel their desires, the raw human hunger for conflict. They had not gathered there to be good samaritans, they wanted to see something. You know what I am talking about? It is the reason most of us cannot look away from a car wreck. Like going to the circus and fighting that part of you that wants to see what happens if the trapeze artist misses the swing. We are animals, the grossness of the thirst was so evident to me now. It was consuming, mind-numbing. I was overloaded with stimulation.

I could see these people, this weakness. It was all around me. The experience I had just had with my mysterious violinist had shocked me into existence. I had moved beyond their meager reality. I looked again toward my worried concession-ist friend, reading the name tag pinned to his shirt: “Philip.” I knew exactly what to do. I didn’t even have to think about it.

“Philip” I said, resting my hand on his shoulder, “I appreciate your concern, but I am fine, just a bit disoriented. I think I need a drink. Could you help me with that?” My calmness spread like wildfire. The crowd quickly dispersed, disappointed that I did not light myself on fire, or jump from the edge of the pier. Philip just stared at me, his lower lip quivering.

“You do work at the ‘Snack Shack’?” I asked, reading from his shirt.

“Umm, yes. I uh, yes. Follow me, I will get you that drink sir.” Just like that, I had diffused the situation. Drawn the attention away from myself. I got a soda and walked out of the carnival. A monument to our ignorance. I had a lot of work to do.

I realize this is all very perplexing and awfully difficult to comprehend, but I swear to you that is what happened. My friend, I know you believe me, that is why I am so glad they sent you and not him. Just bare with me, for my story is just beginning. I needed to find the violinist. My angel. Lailah. I needed to learn to understand what was now so clear to me. I needed to tell the world what I had learned. Leaving the pier that day I knew that my destiny was to free them all. Free them from the grasps of their self-made prisons. It was time for a revolution in thought.

II. Crossing the Rubicon (10 pages...)

It became very difficult to resume my life after what happened at the carnival. I drifted through the spring semester, spending most of my nights at the library. The crazy thing about it was that it became almost infuriating for me to talk to people. Even my friends grew to annoy me.