I am hallucinating. I can see things others don’t. I am worried. I walk into an imaginary cupboard where Dave, my imaginary friend lives. He lets me out the back of the cupboard where I can escape. I fly up among bookshelves. Looking at every book I have ever read. Someone else comes in, then exits back out through a side door. I follow them back into the hospital, still flying.
Now I seem to be on a beach flying. I am aware of other people who think I am mad. Maybe from their point of view I am.
I am at home. I am hallucinating. I keep feeling déjà vu and I have scissors in my hand, waiting to fight the terrible Egyptian/Tibetan hybrid god when he appears. I am talking about stabbing him. My family take me to hospital. The bus is late. I jump onto the side of a bin wagon. The driver sees I’m there and shakes me off. I land in some bushes, dirty and bruised. I am desperate for some help.
I am in a mental hospital. I am hiding behind a sofa. The cleaners find me. I am medicated.
I am in the hospital grounds. Happy to see the sun. Staff smoke among old ruins. Back inside. I laugh at things others can’t see.
I am getting better. I joke with the other patients that we could do the doctors job. Though we probably shouldn’t do surgeries.
I am in a small bar in London listening to Frank Sinatra. There’s a large man on a sofa smoking. I tell him about other pubs I like.