{"id":523,"date":"2007-10-29T01:08:34","date_gmt":"2007-10-29T01:08:34","guid":{"rendered":"http:\/\/www.buffyholt.com\/blog\/2007\/10\/29\/halloween-and-heads-and-men-in-white-coats\/"},"modified":"2009-09-13T18:11:50","modified_gmt":"2009-09-13T18:11:50","slug":"halloween-and-heads-and-men-in-white-coats","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/www.buffyholt.com\/blog\/2007\/10\/29\/halloween-and-heads-and-men-in-white-coats\/","title":{"rendered":"halloween and heads and men in white coats"},"content":{"rendered":"<p>It&#8217;s been a while since I&#8217;ve had a <em>hallucination<\/em> (I hate that word, but it simplifies things).  Since I&#8217;ve had to explain &#8220;No, I&#8217;m not on drugs.  Never have been.&#8221;  Since I&#8217;ve had some people believe me and some people refuse to.  Since I&#8217;ve sat and wondered: should I even be telling you this.  <\/p>\n<p><em>Should I even be telling you this?<\/em> <\/p>\n<p>It&#8217;s the way my brain works. When I&#8217;m hooked up to nodes and electrodes they can even see it happening.  Apparently.  <em>They<\/em> are the doctors who study such things.  Who make you feel like you&#8217;re in a science fiction film even when you&#8217;re not.  Even when, of course you&#8217;re not.   I played guinea pig once.  Twice.  Didn&#8217;t do it again.  Still, part of me is curious.  Would like to go back.  To find out.  Because they just want to help.  Really. And even if they don&#8217;t, I&#8217;m nosey.<\/p>\n<p><center><a href=\"http:\/\/www.buffyholt.com\/blog\/wp-content\/uploads\/2007\/10\/halloween.JPG\" rel=\"lightbox\" title=\"Buffy : Halloween '06\"><center><img decoding=\"async\" src=\"http:\/\/www.buffyholt.com\/blog\/wp-content\/uploads\/2007\/10\/thumb-halloween.jpg\" alt=\"Buffy : Halloween '06\"\/ border=0\/><\/center><\/a><br \/>Those are actually real coffins behind me.  The photo&#8217;s been desaturated.  Tis all.<\/center><\/p>\n<p>I have a vague recollection of episodes at three and five.  They called them night terrors even though there was nothing night about them.  During first grade I spent a lot of time in my closet &#8211; pushing against the walls to keep them from pushing back.   I was seven when I realised sometimes&#8230;something happens that I don&#8217;t understand; that I can&#8217;t explain because I don&#8217;t have the words.  <\/p>\n<p>I remember sliding on my stomach. Pulling myself along the carpet. Jacquard and paisley. Keeping my eyes on the floor so I couldn\u2019t see the things above my head. Through the kitchen. Through the living room. Trying to breathe. Until I could get to my mother\u2019s bed&#8230;<\/p>\n<p>I was fifteen before I was able to verbalise any of this to a doctor.  Before I could say: Sometimes the walls come alive.  The room becomes animated and personified.  In ways it shouldn&#8217;t.  In ways I know it couldn&#8217;t.  But it does just the same.  It&#8217;s just as terrifying.  Just as heart stopping.  As it would be for you.  If in your waking moments you saw  &#8211; and knew it really <em>was<\/em>.  Not just a dream.  But a truth.  Even though it wasn&#8217;t.<\/p>\n<p>It&#8217;s all good and well to know something isn&#8217;t real.  But when you see it &#8211; you believe it.  If only for a moment.  <\/p>\n<!-- AddThis Advanced Settings generic via filter on the_content --><!-- AddThis Share Buttons generic via filter on the_content -->","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"<p>It&#8217;s been a while since I&#8217;ve had a hallucination (I hate that word, but it simplifies things). Since I&#8217;ve had to explain &#8220;No, I&#8217;m not on drugs. Never have been.&#8221; Since I&#8217;ve had some people believe me and some people refuse to. Since I&#8217;ve sat and wondered: should I even be telling you this. Should<!-- AddThis Advanced Settings generic via filter on get_the_excerpt --><!-- AddThis Share Buttons generic via filter on get_the_excerpt --><\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":1,"featured_media":0,"comment_status":"open","ping_status":"open","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"footnotes":""},"categories":[7,5],"tags":[],"class_list":["post-523","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","hentry","category-hum-drum","category-photography"],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.buffyholt.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/523","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.buffyholt.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.buffyholt.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.buffyholt.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/users\/1"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.buffyholt.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/comments?post=523"}],"version-history":[{"count":0,"href":"https:\/\/www.buffyholt.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/523\/revisions"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.buffyholt.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media?parent=523"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.buffyholt.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/categories?post=523"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.buffyholt.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/tags?post=523"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}