I enter the building, check in with the nurses station and am shown into a room. I am instructed to disrobe, which I do, and my body is searched from top to bottom, for what, they did not say. I am then given new clothing which are lavender and of a simple design. I dress and am shown to a simple, little room with a bed and a dresser, both of plain design.
The first thing that happens is I'm allowed three days to just walk around and explore the facility at my leisure. After that my sessions start. Most are group therapy in which we are allowed to say what we choose to say, within reason. I learn all about mental illness from the perspective of people who deal with it on a daily basis and some of their testimonies make mine sound like a bike ride.
For starters, my family, excluding my sister, were on board from the start and supported in any way they could. They were understanding of my limitations and worked to make the home they lived in more hospitable for my condition, no matter the personal sacrifice to their own lives. They were there for me and I learned early on during my sessions that is a commodity quite rare.
The first step in my treatment is to identify the moments I go into unthinking and an action I can take to stop it before it goes too far. I ball my hands into fists and one by one I count and extend my fingers. This strategy is so potent that even when faced with a photo of me from my childhood, I'm able to keep from unthinking.
My sessions go well enough and I regularly see Doctor Ramirez. We spend our time laying groundwork for a proper doctor-patient relationship. He likes the progress I'm making in the short time I've been here, but he would like to see me be more proactive when it comes to sharing, not always waiting to be called upon before adding my input.
He further advises that I find a hobby to keep my mind preoccupied during those off hours when nothing is happening. There wasn't too much I did outside of coding. I did it for work. I did it for leisure, but all of the computers were restricted to staff use only. A bit of a bummer since I love coding.
Instead, I look to the small closet that served as our library, all fifty books. I don't recognize any of the titles, but I tried them anyway. It helped to wile away the hours and I did get into the various narratives and story-lines. I never really developed a taste for them, but I had something else to worry about: I was nearing the end of the scant library.
I bring the issue to the attention of my caretakers, but I'm told that they only carry donated books. And donations were not flooding their inbox. Defeated, I decide to just continue and once I've finished them all I start all over again. I was about to select my next book when I found something I swear was not there before.
I gaze at it closely. It's a thick binding, nothing like the paperbacks that incorporate all the books in the library. Its spine is roughly two and a half to three paperbacks in width and composed entirely of black material with the word 'Carnival' in big gold letters. I pull it from the shelf and look upon it.
The entire thing is covered in a strange black material and the back is blank. The front on the other hand has a bright, colorful image of a vibrant, festive place that sits inside an opening that is surrounded by a dark forest. Above it is the title: "LET'S GO TO THE CARNIVAL!" There is no indicator as to who wrote it.
I sit down and open the book which has a clasp on the side to keep it closed. The inside of the cover and the first page is covered with small playing cards depicting a joker smiling in all his regalia and the repeated image is cast in burgundy. I look closely, but I see no mark anywhere from the publisher.
I turn the page which is made of thick paper, maybe even cardboard and find it to be a pop-up book. The spread page opens up to reveal a massive tent rising directly in the middle with a well dressed man holding out an arm which reaches across the opening. There's what appears to be a turnstile in front of it and a ticket booth just off to the side where a properly dressed person accepts the cash and hands out tickets to a crowd that stands ready to have fun.
In gold letters at the bottom it reads, "THIS IS THE CARNIVAL!" In my head I can hear the faint sound of people chattering and laughing while a pleasant melody plays overall and I swear I can smell and hear popcorn popping. It is only now that I catch sight of the vendor of such as he hands out bags of the delicious treat and I find two little tabs which allow me to open the way into the big top and have the ringmaster take a bow.
I move to the next page and watch it all collapse as a Ferris-wheel takes center-stage. It's brightly colored and is near capacity with smiling people as an operator holds onto a long lever while a little ticket booth accepts the carnival's currency and allows people to line up for the ride.
"THIS IS THE FERRIS-WHEEL!" the gold letters announce and different music plays in my head while laughter fills the air. A tab allows me to manipulate the operator and a second allows me to move the giant wheel.
I turn the page and columns of haystacks rise to meet my eye and are stacked within a square that allows for passage to the other side with many walls in between. There are people scattered throughout and a line stacked up in front of the ticket booth. "THIS IS THE HAYSTACK MAZE!" the gold letters declare and the familiar sounds from the first page fill my mind. A tab cycles the many light-bulbs that line the maze to light up.
I turn to the next page and a brightly colored, illuminated carousel comes into view. Many different animals are being ridden by smiling children, not just horses. I can see a tiger, an elephant, a unicorn, a bear, a pig, even a dolphin. "THIS IS THE CAROUSEL!" the gold letters exclaim and new music is piped through the page as the sounds of excited children fill my brain. A single tab allows the front animals to rise while the back ones fall and vice-versa.
I turn the page and a large structure rises from the middle of the spread with pairs of chains hanging low and a little chair at the end of each. All but one of the chairs are occupied by a smiling child. "THESE ARE THE SWINGS!" the gold letters form and altogether new music plays while children whoop and holler and a tab allows me to spin the construct.
I turn the page and find that all of the tents have been taken down and are being loaded onto trucks, by big men, along with the rides which have been dismantled. "WE ALL HAD FUN AT THE CARNIVAL, BUT NOW IT'S TIME TO GO HOME!" the gold letters declare and there is only silence accompanies it.
I turn the page and find the end of the book. I sit in silence and listen intently for the sounds I heard before, but there is nothing. I consider it merely a bizarre instance that will not likely occur again. I close the clasp and return the book to its shelf. I stand up and walk out of the room while I close the door.
That should have been the end of it, but it follows me everywhere I go. I can hear the diverse music and the cheers of the people playing at a low level within my brain at odd intervals during the day. I return to the library, but no matter how thoroughly I search I cannot find it. The book is simply gone.
I ask around, but no one knows what I'm talking about. No one has seen a children's book in the facility and the head nurse tells me that they don't accept children's books as donations. Since I have no other recourse I leave the matter be, but it still does not stay gone. It visits me in my dreams.
I find myself standing in line with a gaggle of people all waiting to purchase tickets for all the carnival has to offer. I find I have no agency as my body seems to move all on its own. I purchase a slew of tickets, it would seem I'm going to have a grand time. I avail myself of all the amusement that can be had.
I have the best time a person simply along for the ride can. I meet so many people, I ride all of the rides and use my leftover currency to purchase refreshments. The entire evening builds up to the main event: the show held inside the big-top. My heart starts to race. I can feel the excitement building inside the fiber of my being. This is gonna be good.
I sit up in my bed. I can feel the veil of sleep slowly slipping off my face and with it any cohesive thought directly connected to the dream. I hold my head and will my mind to remember, but it's no use. The more I try to hold onto what little remains, the more it slips through my fingers till it is all but gone. All I'm left with is the basic skeleton of my visit, but one thing comes perfectly clear: the flap of the big top opening, but nothing more.
My day properly begins with a visit to Doctor Ramirez. He's busy with some last minute paperwork and I'm internally debating how much I should tell him about the carnival. Ultimately I decide that I should tell him all of it. How is he to prescribe an effective treatment if he doesn't know the whole story? Besides...
"Good morning Domingo," he addresses me and interrupts my thought.
I snap back to reality. "Good morning," I respond somewhat absentmindedly and shift in my seat.
"How did you sleep?" Doctor Ramirez queries and focuses his attention on me.
"I slept well," I find myself flowing down the river of conversation while my quarry gets further and further away.
"And how do you feel this morning?" Doctor Ramirez continues and gives a scratch to his shoulder.
"I feel good," I respond while tension builds inside me as I seem incapable of interjecting and redirecting the dialogue.
"And what did you dream?" Doctor Ramirez inquires while leaning forward and setting his elbows on the desk.
Bam! I hit the rock that stands out in the middle of the river with such a force that it splits. "I had a great dream," I inform him as I recover from the shock.
"A great dream?" Doctor Ramirez replies and his head rises slightly. "I haven't had one of those in ages. Not since I was a child. Can you tell me what yours was about?"
"I've forgotten most of it, but I remember feeling really good," I start in and search my brain for all relevant information.
"What do you remember about it?" Doctor Ramirez presses and lowers a hand so it's completely resting on the desk.
I take a breath. "I was at a carnival of some kind with a lot of people. I bought a lot of tickets and rode all the rides, but I can't really remember riding them, just getting on and off. And it all culminated to the big-top which, once I opened it, the dream ended."
Doctor Ramirez sits back. "This carnival, did you recognize it?" he queries and cups his chin.
I shake my head.
"Did you recognize anyone there?" Doctor Ramirez continues and incrementally scoots his chair back.
I shake my head. "I could see their bodies, but not their faces," I elaborate and sit up a little straighter. "Like a photograph that someone's finger had smudged."
"Did you recognize yourself?" Doctor Ramirez delivers a question I hadn't expected.
The very query causes me to physically flinch and fall backward into my chair. "I can't, I can't," I speak as I claw at my face so fiercely that I cannot believe I don't peel away my skin. "I don't remember seeing any-"
Doctor Ramirez rises from his chair. "Domingo, listen to me," he calls out to me and takes my hands.
"Doctor, I can feel it!" I declare and try to see him through the haze that is covering my eyes. "I can feel the unthinking!"
"Domingo you have to listen to me," I hear Doctor Ramirez's calm voice. "I need you to look at my desk."
"I, I can't see!" I utter with panicked voice as I flash my eyes about trying to see anything through sightless eyes. "I can't see anything!"
"Domingo, Doming listen to the sound of my voice and focus on my words," Doctor Ramirez instructs and I can still feel his hand enshrouding mine. "Three little mice ran round nine houses and entered five doors. Eight cats gave chase as they ran up two staircases and jumped out four windows." There is a pause. "Now, listen closely. How many mice were there?"
I'm silent.
"Domingo, how many mice?" Doctor Ramirez pushes.
"Three," I barely choke out and feel something pulling at me.
"How many houses?" Doctor Ramirez pries.
I take a moment to think. "Nine," is my answer and I feel the pull strengthen.
"Good, how many doors?" Doctor Ramirez persists.
"Five," I find myself answering with hardly a thought and the room starts to come into view.
"And how many cats?" Doctor Ramirez continues his calm interrogation.
"Eight," I reply and I can feel myself coming back to reality.
"That's excellent, you're almost there," Doctor Ramirez lauds my performance thus far. "How many-"
"Two staircases, there are two staircases," I cut him off and feel myself sitting in the chair. "And there are four windows."
Doctor Ramirez claps me on the shoulder. "It's good to have you back," he welcomes my return and takes hold of my hand before shaking it.
"Doctor," I start and look him dead in the eye. "What's wrong with me?"
Doctor Ramirez takes a deep breath, walks over to his desk, turns around and leans against it. "Well, I was laying the groundwork for a diagnosis that involved a dissociative disorder as per your black outs and likely connected to a childhood trauma," he informs me and focuses on me. "But this carnival episode, I've never heard of such a thing. This will require a great deal more studies and I'm going to increase our sessions to three hours, at least until we get to the root of the problem."
Hope floods my being and I feel like I could fly before doubt rears its ugly head. "What if there is nothing that can be done?" I speak with words that feel ripped straight out of a pit of despair and put my hands to my head. "What if what's inside me can't be cured? Will I have to memorize inane sayings connected with numbers for the rest of my life? Am I likely to continue to slip into unthinking which is only getting worse?"
Doctor Ramirez takes hold of my shoulders. "Look at me," he commands and stares me dead in the face. "You need to breathe."
I start to focus on the air I take in and slowly let out.
"That 's it," Doctor Ramirez commends me and slackens his grip. "There is no telling at this point what form your mental illness will take or what consequences will be inherent to it. But you can rest assured that I will do everything within my stores of knowledge to find for you a life that you can live with."
"Thank you doctor, you have no idea what this means to me," I gush and stand from my seat before giving him a great big hug.
Doctor Ramirez pushes me to arms length. "I'm hopeful that we will find for you a happy medium," he relays to me and pats my shoulder. "But we have to be realistic about this. A cure, if there is any to be had, could take years and serious reconstruction to your psyche. Further, the only way forward might require you to accept a new normal which may not agree with you. That being said, with all we have to contend with, I promise to be there with you and help in any practical way I can."
I take a deep breath. "You're right doctor," I admit and lower my eyes a few degrees. "I pray that I will be able to get out from under this illness, but I also have to accept that it may become a part of my life."
"I also pray that we prove successful, but it is good to stay grounded," Doctor Ramirez agrees with me and cups my chin as he raises my head to meet his eyes. "However, that doesn't mean that you abandon all hope. It's far too early in the game to make negative declarations. Right now it's time for me to put my nose to the grindstone, whereas you should probably take a nap."
"I am feeling a bit weak," I let on as I take stock of myself.
"I should say," Doctor Ramirez remarks and looks me up and down. "Have a good day Domingo, I have work to do."
"Thank you doctor," I address him, turn and walk out the door.
I return to my room and lay down on my bed. I look at the ceiling tiles and count them off. I notice a few splotches that I hadn't seen before. It doesn't look like water damage. It almost looks like a dappled effect. What in the world could have caused that to happen. And while I'm on the subject, what about the suspended light that always seems to be swaying? Not to mention...
I find myself back in the carnival. This time I'm able to control my body. The first thing I notice is that I'm shorter. That is I start off tall, but find myself shrink with each passing moment, till most of the people are nearly twice my height. I look into the peoples faces, but they still look smudged.
I focus my mind and will it to pierce that obstruction, but I am distracted. I am accosted by a sudden rising of gaiety in the form of laughter as a small group of children blow right past me. I watch them very closely and feel the excitement building inside me. Whatever they are doing, whoever they are, I want to be a part of it.
I hurry after them and am able to keep sight of the last child as we wind our way through the numerous tents and stalls. I'm trailing behind the rest and barely able to keep them in constant view. In fact, there are many times I lose them altogether, but it doesn't bother me in the least. It only adds to the excitement and I'm always able to locate them from the laughter I hear.
I round a corner and stop dead in my tracks. The children are all standing before a hastily constructed building with the words "FUNHOUSE MIRRORS". They are all looking at me with expressions that I cannot read. I'm starting to feel like a bug under glass and the excitement is quickly leaving me with the tension mounting.
All at once the children turn around and dash inside the building with their laughter trailing. I'm completely at a loss. I don't know what to do. This once jubilant place has become deathly silent and the lights have all faded and a disquiet has entered my person. Everything is starting to feel heavy and pushing me toward the one place I don't want to go.
Memories of my psychotic breakdown flood my brain and that was from only trying to remember my reflection in random objects. I can only imagine what being faced with numerous, clear images would do to me. I try to hold my ground, but find I have no anchor, even my shoes are slipping rather than gripping the dirt.
I turn around and throw myself down on the ground. I claw my hands into the dirt and attempt to crawl away, but I can feel forces pushing me in the opposite direction. I scream, I plead, I beg, but to no avail. I'm dragged kicking and screaming across the expanse and pulled to a sitting position on the stairs. After that, the forces stop.
The carnival resumes its boisterous activity with the music playing pleasantly and the lights shining as brightly as ever. I take it all in and find the disquiet leave me. I hear the sounds of giggling children and turn my head sharply. I gaze at the open doorway and the lighted room inside. I should be scared, but I'm curious instead.
I stand up and walk the steps. I step into the room and find nothing but a cheap construction with mirrors of varying sizes and bends. It all seems so juvenile and a cheap excuse to rob people of their currency. For all the foreboding that preceded my entering the building, I was really expecting more.
I look at the mirrors scattered throughout and see what I expect I must have looked like as a little boy. I feel about inside my brain with the energy therein. I don't feel the unthinking coming on. Have I cured myself? Has this dream somehow reached beyond my illness and procured for me a remedy? Am I...
I wake in my bed. The hour is late. I look around me, the world is still. I can't hear anything as there is no sound to be heard. I sit up and take stock of my dream. Not much to unpack really, nothing like the first time. The only thing that piques my interest is the kids. Who were they to me? Did I simply manifest them as background for the place of amusement? Why did I feel compelled to follow them? Why was...
The door bursts open with pieces of wood splintering, flying through the air and in the briefest moment left to me before sheer panic takes over I wonder why they didn't simply open the unlocked door. What I assume to be two men rush into the room wearing burlap sacks over their heads and ropes wound round their throats. I didn't notice anything more about them excepting they weren't naked. That little tidbit would have definitely stuck.
One grabs and shoves my legs together while the other produces a long zip-tie which he uses to cinch my feet together in a most painful fashion that I can feel cut into my skin. I scream out and they move onto my arms. One grabs the other cinches. More pain, more screams, nothing more. I'm ripped from my bed and hoisted onto the shoulder of one before being carried out the door.
I yell, I kick, I shout, no effect and whatever this guy is made of he must be half tree trunk for the pain it's doing to my naked feet. I look about me, the facility is empty. There aren't even any signs of human occupancy, like someone removed everything and sterilized this place so it only looks like a building people would occupy.
The only thing I can see that is not background is the other guy following after as I'm walked out of the facility. I can hear a vehicle idling. We approach it and I'm thrown inside a trunk of some kind which has just enough room for my scrunched up body. I'm locked inside and I hear the hatch being closed before the car takes off.