Recently I’ve had a psychotic episode.
I woke from a nap on the sofa in my living room after not sleeping well the night before. When I went to sleep everything was totally normal. The TV was on but muted, I was lying down covered with a blanket and with a cushion under my head, nothing unusual.
My idea of hell
When I woke up, however, I was faced with my idea of hell.
The room’s atmosphere, smells, sounds and congruence had changed totally.
I was now lying on a brick table that had an electric saw connected to the bottom of it. I was lying under blood-stained clothes that didn’t belong to me. The smell in the room was foul and rotting.
To my right were two rows of corpses hanging from ropes and chains from the ceiling, similar to meat in a butcher’s. There was a metal cart between the rows that was holding surgical tools, machetes and tweezers.
As I turned my head to see what was at my feet, I was faced with an upside-down cross. I then noticed others lined the room’s walls, spaced out between candles. The walls were originally blue, but stained red, brown and green.
I looked to my left. There wasn’t much over this side. Nothing really but an open trap door leading to a dark concrete stairwell only lit by a open wired lightbulb at the bottom.
The bottom of the staircase had kitchen tiles, black and white squared ones to be exact.
I never went down there; I only peeked. And I could see yet more of these brick tables with body parts hanging over the sides.
Like a horror movie
This all sounds pretty unrealistic and like a horror movie. But this is what schizophrenia does to your mind. A psychotic episode makes even your own home a living hell. No one but you can determine whether you’re dreaming, hallucinating or in reality.
I can remember all this as clear as day. It was so vivid that I can still picture it: the colour of the floors, walls and layout of the room.