In chapter 13, Dan spends his first night in a psychiatric ward and describes his encounters with the people he meets there. To access previous chapters, visit Jane Read’s Author Page.

 

Chapter 13.

DAN  

                         

                           “If you think anyone is sane, you just don’t know enough about them.”

    Christopher Moore‘

 

I am shown into the lounge and told to wait while they get my room ready. I ask each member of staff in turn, whether they enjoy their job here. Then at last, I’m taken to my bedroom. They tell me, ‘Everything you need is in here.’

I find a towel, some soap and a Bible on my bed, so I know that they are right. I have everything I need. I am then handed a beaker of water with a tablet, which I agree to take this time. I do get a bit of sleep but it’s quite a weird, light sleep in which my body is resting but my mind keeps going. My eyes are closed but I can feel the sensation of Mum’s hands, gently massaging my forehead as I drift off.  I’m not sure if she is really there, or just in my dream.

My family visit me the next day, and I talk eagerly to them about my mission and how I need them all to be on my side to help me do God’s work. I know that Tom has come back to see me for a reason. When he stops doubting, the time will be right for the revolution to begin. I tell them I’m eating all my meals in silence, with the Bible open on the table in front of me because that is what God wants.

‘Most guys I meet in here are half asleep. They are sitting like zombies in front of the telly, no-one is talking to anyone else. It’s my job to wake them up. I am here to inject life into this dead place and to tell them a few important truths, so I stand right in front of the TV screen and start shouting at them;

‘THE TIME HAS COME. RISE UP AND FOLLOW ME. I AM HERE TO SAVE YOU.

I AM THE WAY, THE TRUTH AND THE LIFE’

Some blokes are grumbling at me; ‘Sure you are mate, sure you are’,

They are wanting me to get out of the way but I know my message is a lot more important than the crap they are watching.

“I HAVE BEEN SENT TO BRING PEOPLE OUT OF SLEEP AND INTO LIFE AND TRUTH.

ONLY THEN WILL GOD TAKE ME OUT INTO THE REST OF THE WORLD !”

‘We’ll take you out mate, if you don’t shift out’a the way!’ one guy is muttering.

I move towards a less angry looking patient, He is trying to put a DVD into the player and when he presses a button on the remote, the word ‘OPEN’ appears on the screen. I know that this is a direct instruction for me to open my Bible. I do so, in silence, offering it to him with a smile. He looks a bit surprised, but doesn’t take it. I will try again later.

I lead Mum along the corridor to show her my new bedroom, explaining,

‘I have been given a simple room filled with a few simple things.  We don’t need all the clutter that we collect in our lives.’

She agrees and tells me that she has only brought me a few things from home, a handful of clean clothes but if there is anything there that I feel is unnecessary, she can take it away. She hands me the ‘Complete Works of Shakespeare’, which I did tell her I might need, for practicing my monologues and preparing for auditions. She has also picked out two photos from our family albums. These are to put on the shelf near my bed. Immediately I see them I know that they hold important significance, so I start to explain to Mum and to Tom, what they represent.

The first is a photo is of seven members of our family on holiday, lined up on a balcony in Menorca (Dad was holding the camera down below). I think I was about fourteen at the time and I’d been pratting about, leaning over the wall with my eyes and mouth wide open in mock horror at the sight of the drop. I stare at the picture for a few seconds, then explain it to Mum.

‘This is the old Dan, being sick over the wall, emptying himself of all the sin, the porn, the drugs and the alcohol which corrupt our world and our lives.’

The other is a picture of me acting in the play, ‘Bartholomew Fair’. (I was about seventeen, and a member of the local, Riding Lights Youth Theatre.) It’s an impressive headshot. My face is looking upwards, one hand raised high in a strong, dramatic gesture above my head with my muscles and sinews standing out.

‘This is a picture of the new, strong Daniel, teaching and preaching to people and helping them know the truth!’

I notice that staff from the kitchens and the nursing auxiliaries serve me my food,  drink and medication with appropriate humility. I don’t like accepting the tablets because I know there is nothing at all wrong with me and they make me feel tired, but it is fitting that people serve me in this way because of my new identity.

Every time the ward phone rings, I find myself growing angry. Constantly ringing phones are an unnecessary intrusion in our lives. Rob quickly closes the door so that the sound won’t bother me as much, then he mentions that they have bought a new mobile for me to keep in the hospital, with just our family’s numbers on it, (in case I need to speak to any of them) but just now they seem unsure about whether they should give it to me or not because of my hatred of phones. It is inside Mum’s shoulder bag near the big settee, but the alarm has been set for some reason and suddenly goes off whilst we’re talking. I feel around inside the bag to grab it. I draw my fist back to hurl it out through the open window, into the darkness of the grounds beyond. I pause for a second and I look towards my brother. He stops me.

‘No Dan! Give it to me now and I will put it away.’

I hand it over obediently. Then I tell them about last night, when I found myself crawling along on my hands and knees into the lounge where the night staff were reading their papers.

‘Please listen to me’. I said to them. ‘I need your help. I really am Jesus, the Messiah.’ 

They ignored me and carried on chatting away and reading. They made me feel alone in my hour of need. I sense that I am going to be killed before too long (probably by crucifixion).

‘There was this other guy sitting there, sketching in the corner of the lounge. I’m guessing that maybe he couldn’t sleep either.’

He hisses at me, “Hey mate! No-one’s going to listen to you like that are they? You’re crawling around in your boxers mate. Come over ’ere and I’ll listen to you for a bit if you want.”

I look at his sketch book. He’s scribbled a rough pencil drawing of a car and written ‘Jamie woz ere’ underneath it. I like him. He’s cool and seems to know stuff. He’s got a gun tattooed on his right arm.

I tell Mum about the conversation that I had with one of the very pretty nurses on the ward that morning, carefully explaining to her that I have been singled out by God to carry out a world-wide revolution, to save, forgive and to heal people.

She asks if I believe that I am God’s Messiah? I say,

‘Yes, you are right. That is the truth. That is exactly who I am!’