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Exactly what happened after this mental vision quest is a bit of a blur…

I was starting to have a very difficult time keeping my thoughts routed in reality… I remember very vaguely trying the hardest I could to explain what I was experiencing to everyone present including my wife, my sister, and my brother in law,… I would get excited by some new revelation I was experiencing and try desperately to use my words to explain to them, but between the extremely distracting visions, my own excitement and at times panic related to everything happening, and the fact that I was increasingly aware that the words coming out of my mouth made no sense, it was basically impossible to explain.

I can only really explain the experience from my own point of view, but from what I remember I was repeating words and phrases over and over again that seemed to have some meaning to me, but clearly had no meaning to my family: phrases like, “this reality” and “it will all make sense later,” and “I’m so glad this is happening with you three people.” It is obvious to me now that I was completely delusional, but without knowing what had caused these delusions, my mind could only leap to the most spectacular of explanations.

It is sad to me now too to think back on that night because I remember vividly thinking that my thoughts were among the most profound I had ever had, and in the moment I really believed that the experience was “real,” or had significance or meaning.

This is certainly not to say that it doesn’t have meaning now that I know it was all essentially drug induced… in fact, I’d say that that night only gains more and more significance based on everything I experienced after that and the way this event and the events directly after it have affected my life, but some of the “cosmic knowledge” which I felt I was gaining or it’s sort of “divine” significance overall has diminished…

Though I have to say, part of my experience that night, and subsequent experiences in the hospital, have explained some of this “diminishing” cosmic meaning in a very interesting and compelling way. One reflection or realization about this was that if I HAD indeed experienced something divine or “otherworldly”, HOW could I possibly expect to have the tools with which to comprehend such an experience?… One such revelation occurred in the hospital, which I will explain when I get to that point chronologically, but essentially the revelation was that my little glimpse of the divine was CERTAINLY more than I could ever handle with my simple little brain, and that as I became further and further detached from this experience, OF COURSE it would become less and less clear, feel more and more like a dream, and be just as easily dismissible.

HOWEVER, this realization, at least to me, does not mean that the significance of those “visions” should be any less. It should just serve as a reminder to myself (and hopefully one day others), that the truly divine connection of all existence is in fact truth, and even though I may not understand it, it does not in any way make it less true and meaningful. This was honestly completely and utterly comforting, especially given just how UNCOMFORTABLE I would become in most every other sense of the word in the following month…

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In writing about myself as somehow “middle of the road” in life, I instantly become aware of the myriad different misconceptions there could be about me when I say this… To narrow it down a bit, I by no means think I think I am necessarily “average” or that my life is “boring.” I don’t think that I am of average intelligence – on the contrary, I think of myself as quite smart (most of the time) – whether or not this is true, entirely or even just a little, one would have to be one’s own judge.

Instead when I say “middle of the road experience,” I mean only that my experience of life has got to be, intuitively at least the way I perceive it, somewhere in the middle of all extremes available to all of human existence. And by that I mean that I am neither the most rich or the most poor, have had the most pain or the most joy, am the most fortunate or most unfortunate.

This was what was flashing through my mind when I was in this current state, the reflection of my own place in the relative middle of human existence.

This can be expanded further, when one considers historically where we are in the history of our own existence, and the existence that we share with the universe and everything in it.

First, as humans, we have come SO FAR as a species, from primitive beings similar to other animals, to developed primates who used tools and walked upright, beyond that to developing civilizations and cultures and religion and technology beyond what anyone could have possibly ever imagined at the dawn of time, in particular as imagination was not even yet a THING that people could do.

Now we are here, with imaginations which can produce things beyond our wildest expectations in terms of beauty, wonder, and awe. Yet, there are still LIMITS to that creation, just as there are limits to our own experience and ambition, such that my earlier reflection on the infinite possible iterations of human existence is very easily extrapolated to all of existence and matter that we are aware of, real, imagined or otherwise. Thus while we are to some degree limitless in our possibility in this or any version of existence, we are also limited in the possible scope and extreme values that those iterations might entail for us.

Not to mention that, historically speaking, we are sitting perched on a crossroads that certainly every being on earth has never experienced… essentially, we are aware of more of our surroundings (from this earth to the universe beyond), and our knowledge only continues to grow. And as that knowledge grows, so too does our responsibility to ourselves and our surroundings, such that how could we possibly take in so much, in so much detail, and build and grow to such a degree without in some way preserving this legacy, either with our own recorded histories which we preserve and protect, or through what we teach to those that go ahead of us, since so too is each of our existence limited to the confines of a mortal life…

All of this, which at the time felt both profound and beautiful, but also intensely overwhelming and impossibly terrible to comprehend or do something about – all of this rattled around my head in what felt like the most densely compacted instant that I have ever, and most likely will ever, experience.

It was in this moment that I felt a sort of divine beauty in what I was experiencing which could only be described as being so intensely close to the middle of something bigger than I could ever express in words… one thought or image that raced through my mind at the time, and has stayed with me ever since, was the notion that one atom of matter, the smallest unit of our known existence, were to suddenly wake up! And realize that it was located on the fuzzy, glowing edge of the sun, and that it was now aware of every other single atom of that seemingly infinite energy source, and that all of those atoms were so incredibly similar to itself and that they were all completely and unquestionably linked together, such that “his” own existence was so very, very similar to that of an atom on the other side of that glow, or perhaps in the inner most center of Center’s of that star…

I felt like that atom in that moment.

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I remember getting out of the room, after what felt like days, even weeks or months. At first I wandered back and forth between the door of my room and an adjacent door that led to the stairwell. I could see it led to a stairwell through glass with wires in it. I remember trying desperately to open the stairwell door, because if I could just get out of there, I would run home to my family. I remember thinking that I’d definitely be cold, but I didn’t care, and perhaps someone nice would offer me a jacket along the way.

But the stairwell door was locked, which was very confusing for me because as an architect, you NEVER lock egress doors (the doors that lead to OUT). I remember feeling very concerned for my safety in the event of a fire. I later thought about and figured, in excruciating detail and probably over and over and over again, how this is obviously to prevent crazies like myself from escaping, and how, in the event of a fire, I’m sure someone with a key would come and unlock it, assuming they were not on fire, or perhaps it was an automated system or something.

But in the meantime, I was not getting out that way. I remember being very aware that I was a captive, though the nature of my captivity and how I came to be there in the first place were lost on me in the moment. I decided that I would plead my case to the nearest available person in charge, who at the moment was a large nurse (I found out later he was a nurse but at the time I just saw an ID badge). His name was James, like me and my son. I remember thinking this was either a very good sign or yet another indicator that I was indeed in Hell and would be reminded of my former life in this way all the time. I approached him at his portable standing laptop and said something to the effect of, “I… Home… son.. out…” to which he said something to the effect of, “No, not right now. Go back to your room.”

Well as I had by this point taken several steps away from “my room,” as it were, I looked back and had absolutely no idea where I had left it, so returning there was out of the question, just as a non-starter. I also realized that this man’s standing laptop was much more important than I was in the moment, so I decided that I had to take matters into my own hands.

Quickly looking around, I saw a large window spanning the length of a public common area – Perfect. I would go out the window, land in the snow, and run home to my son. Sure, I would be bloody from the window (which I then realized I had decided to jump through…), but I would be OUT, and I’d be free, and I would go home to my son. And maybe get that jacket from a kind person I was banking on.

So, in the interest of getting down to business, I took aim at the window. Realizing that I’d get more momentum if I backed up, I walked into an open room behind me, all the way to the window of that room, and then sprinted as fast as I could at the large window, jumped up, and closed my eyes, preparing to crash through…

I remember hitting the window hard with my face and body, and knocking my left shin very hard against the radiator enclosure below the window, then stumbling to the ground while the one or two other patients in the room gasped and muttered to one another. The large male nurse walked over, sounding exasperated and saying something to the effect of, “Aw, no… don’t jump at the windows…” in a half-bewildered, half annoyed tone. He then took me first to my original room where he quickly learned that I had peed on top of the bed, and then to another patient room where he told me to stay. I then laid on the bed and fell asleep.

…

I woke up later that night, and was told by a nurse that I had visitors. She took me to the visitors area where my sister and my wife were waiting for me. I immediately started crying. They were crying too, and we all tried our best to bumble through what the fuck was going on. I told them I had tried to jump through a window, of which they said they’d been told. I remember asking what on earth was happening to me, and they said that they didn’t know…

“I just want to go home,” I said, sobbing.

“I know,” they both said as they comforted me.

They told me I’d be held there now until the hospital could be sure I was safe. I told them that I wanted to know that I was safe too, that I didn’t know how I had become so confused and disoriented, and that I had only jumped at the window because I was trying to get home to them and to Jimmy. They said they understood.

We all tried to calm down a bit and eventually they told me goodnight and left. I went back to my bedroom and uncomfortably tried my best to go to sleep.

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Four days after the exact middle- The great misunderstanding begins.

I didn’t sleep well.

I was agitated, confused.

I wanted to leave.

I was getting more and more frustrated by the hour – I couldn’t completely explain why, though I felt I didn’t belong where I was and I had the sense that the people in this place could not help me.

I was confused. I didn’t know what had happened to me on the night of the exact middle, but I knew it held some deeper meaning to me. I felt compelled to explain what happened, to make sense of it and to put it into my own terms, but something was stopping me. My normal intuition and perception were lacking for some reason. This frustrated me too.

I didn’t understand. I was angry. I had been given medicine to “help” me to feel better, but the longer I was on it (this was the fourth day), the more confused I felt, the more distracted and unfocused I became. I just wanted to go home, and it seemed like no one really cared when or even if that happened.

I realized I was pacing around my room.

Then Connie walked in.

“How are you, James?”

“Fine, I’m fine.”

“Would you like to sit down?”

“Not really.”

“Do you know why you are here?”

“I jumped at a window.”

“Do you know how you were acting before that?”

“Not like myself. Sorry… uh, are you my doctor?”

“Yes.”

“Doctor..?”

“Connie”

“Doctor Connie?”

“Just Connie. I’m Connie Ryan.”

“Dr. Ryan, I…”

“Just Connie.”

“Sorry?”

“It’s just Connie.”

“I thought you said you were my doctor.”

“I am overseeing you. My name is Connie Ryan and I’m a nurse practitioner.”

“Oh… so you’re not my doctor…?”

“I’m overseeing you.”

“Is there a doctor in charge of me?”

“There is a doctor who oversees my cases, yes.”

“I see. May I speak to him or her?”

“No.”

“Why not?”

“Because I’m overseeing you.”

“I understand that, but am I able to speak to my doctor?”

“He may see you if he needs to, yes.”

“But I can’t see him now?”

“No.”

“No?”

“No.”

“Ummm… I feel like I should be allowed to speak to my doctor.”

“James, I am your doctor.”

“Nurse practitioner…”

“Okay, we’re done here.”

Then she abruptly got up and started to walk out of my room. I panicked, I had fucked something up, made her upset. I had just wanted to see my doctor.

I ran out of the room to her and I asked if that was it… She said that’s all she needed right then.

I said “but I have more to tell you!”

She said “Like what?”

I said, “I have OCD.”

She said, “What are your symptoms?”

I tried to explain. We were in the hall now. She was looking at me impatiently. I said I had thoughts.. or something.

She said “What kind?”

I tried to explain… bad thoughts, feeling bad, scared.

“What are your compulsions?”

“I think… things… I rethink and over think.”

She said, “those aren’t compulsions. Compulsions are like turning on and off light switches, that kind of thing.”

I said, probably a little angrily, “mine isn’t like that!”

She said, “Thank you. We’re done here,” and she walked quickly away.

I’d fucked it up…

I knew that, but there wasn’t anything else I could do…

So I waited…

And I started to pace around the ward, worried….