Sunday, September 14, 2008

A Different Reality

So I had this idea, don't we all have ideas? I'm sure we I have mine, and you have yours, and that's just fine and dandy with me. I doubt we all think the exact same thoughts, and I doubt 'everyone' fits into a 'general pool' of what is Abstract thinking, compared to the more common thinking. Some of us have our own ways of seeing things. This is a concept that sometimes crosses my mind, and well...gets the brain thinking about some odd things. This is a is not necessarily 'about' any particular person, it is a Concept....

In this room, I see a young man, he is sitting alone near a window. The walls are painted a muted olive green, the floors are smooth like ice, and deep grey. He sits in his chair. Staring at something you and I can't see. He is very still, but not so silent, he seems to mumble and hum, and that is when his eyes come so incredibly animated. He begins to move his arms in circular motions, humming louder now, those of us listening, can hear some words, but none of the words make any sense, to us. He doesn't see us, not this time...but he is obviously seeing someone, or many, or something. He turns his head a little more to the right, cocking it to his side, as if suddenly very interested in something very different now, and he is fixated on the texture of the wall. He turns slowly and appears to be looking directly at those of us watching, we know him, but we don't know him quite like you know him....because you, are understanding what he is doing, but we do not....see, you live in his world with him, and it fascinates us...that he is as real to you, as you are to him. He sees us, just for a second, his face goes pale, and he begins to look as if he might panic, then just as quickly as the expression slapped his face, it was gone, and now again he is looking at the wall, at you....
To us this is fascinating. To you, well you probably don't think about it anymore than he does, the young man in the empty room. As far as he knows, the world is functioning as it always has...he is on the streets, painting on buildings, playing his guitar on the street and at cafe's, he lives in a little apartment on a rainy street, alone. He doesn't talk to people much, but when he does we hear his mumbled attempt at what we try to understand as our language, the one We Taught Him, this World..but he didn't seem to understand us, and we couldn't understand we had to bring him where others could help him understand how We think, Us, in the World...Not you...You are wrong, and we know this. We can not see the people he is talking to, therefore he needs help, so he can talk to Us instead. I wonder if you would rather we be able to see you also, or would that shock you, like he shocks us?

And just who are you? He talks to you often, he sees you and at times speaks of you when he has what we think are breakthroughs. Last week he sat down and looked at all of us, asked how we were doing. He had his back to you then, to that wall. He asked how the family was and told us that 'the voices' told him we were all well and missed him. He explained how the people he sees are as real to him, as we are, but sometimes the voices say things that are wrong, and he knows this...and he knows why we put him in this room...and then he turns back to the wall, and begins to mumble, and laugh.
We tried to put our eyes on him, we tried to put our words in him, you didn't even have to, he seems to think you are home, for the most part. Sometimes it's like two seperate worlds, both real to him, one missing for us.
He turns to us and says "They said you have nothing to worry a bout, you don't see them? They're RIGHT THERE!!!! and points to you, whoever you are...and I don't know if you see us or not, he seems to think you do. Maybe you are simply the ones who's reality he lives in, perhaps he does not understand you are all imaginary...or perhaps we don't understand how to see you.

Self Portrait

Self Portrait
This is Not a Drawing