Hallucination has always been a thing with the mind. The difficulty of understanding the differences between the real and the false world, but hallucination has made us imagine things that aren't real, sometimes this hallucination could be beautiful, and enjoyable memories or dreams. But when these dreams become a horror for a lifetime. Then what will be the cure?
Life hasn't been easy for me, growing up as a kid in Alabama, I was fond of talking to myself or sometimes daydreaming as Mrs. Brown, my therapist does say. But these voices and scary images have been a nightmare, a thorn in my flesh.
Sometimes these false imaginations makes me do crazy things, it's like the voice of a woman in my head telling me what to do. Do things beyond human imagination.
I remembered when I was six, the voice almost made me put my clothes into the microwave oven, but i didn't. It made me think I was baking a cake. The incident made my parents seek medical help, and that was Mrs. Brown. Her therapy skills are so exceptional, unique, and communicative. My recovery rate with her was fast, although I experienced some glitches of hallucination still, I talked myself out of them.
Mrs. Brown is a plumpy woman, of middle age and blonde hair. She was pretty with shining white skin. She had this old grey armchair in her office. The chair was specially reserved for me anytime I had a session with her. The chair made me feel so comfortable and helped me to understand real from the imaginary thoughts.
On Thursday afternoon, by 1:45 pm. I got a call from my mum. She said Grandma wanted to see me before she passed on. I was shocked and worried by her statement. I was at work when I got that call.
Working as a waiter after school has helped me to control my mind.
Grandma had been in the hospital for months because she suffers from pulmonary disease caused by a blockage in the airflow of the lungs, making it difficult to breathe. It hurts me badly to see my sweet Granny in such pain.
There I was in the hospital, locating her ward wasn't difficult, but when I entered the hospital the stench of death was omnipresent. There was also a dark presence in Granny's room that nearly hovered around my eyes. The fear of dying was all over me, as I stepped into her room where she was lying still, so still, breathing slowly, I found myself questioning if she was still breathing. Just as I was pondering on my thoughts, the torn sheets started moving a bit, and then she sneezed.
Suddenly, I heard the same voice when I was 6 years old. This time, the voice had lost its energy, it was faint, but echoed in my head saying, "The old woman is asleep, and will soon be called home. Are you ready to go home?"
Then Granny suddenly coughed out, interrupting my imaginative thoughts. I immediately went closer to her and offered my help to raise her pillow. She let out a raspy cough that came out from the depth of her lungs.
"My son, please come closer." She pleased.
A little taken aback, I asked after a short moment of silence.
"What's the matter, Granny? What do you wish to say to me?"
"I have something I need to tell you." Her voice got quieter and pale. So I drew closer to her blanket to get a closer look at her face. Then I saw the wrinkles parting the face in Little parts of their own, dry as a paper and the old skin.
Her eyes were closed, as she tried drawing her breath from the life support machine. Suddenly her facial expression changed, it seemed like another face came out of Granny's. It was terrifying, while her eyes were closed. The eyes of the illusion face turned white as snow and bleeding out blood, letting out endless laughter. It was horrifying to look that I could no longer remember Granny's face.
I staggered backward in shock, trying to forget what my mind just made. "Could you please stop?" Just as I recovered my position, and stared at Granny again. This time her face was back, but fear had crept into my body causing my memories of my Granny to fade away. Just like a burning paper turning to ashes. And there I was, I couldn't control my fear, I couldn't come closer to her, my sweet Granny cried for me. I just watched myself moving backward through the door.
"Was it my willingness?" Even though I didn't have enough strength to fight the fear to move forward.
Then she cried and said, "Oh my good child… don't go… don't let your fear overcome your spirit. Fight for your soul, and remember who you are, my boy."
She smiled at me, and she went back to sleep.
The End
