After a full day of serial killers
on my TiVo and a large bowl of pasta for a comforting late supper, I drifted
contentedly off to sleep to the lulling sounds of my television, only to “wake
up” in what appeared to be an insane asylum.
Naturally I hadn’t any idea that I
was a complete lunatic as my delusions seemed quite real; so I felt absolutely
no hesitation as I attempted to cuddle maternally on a couch with “Dr. Spencer
Reid” (aka actor Michael Gray Gubler from Criminal
Minds), whilst bonding amicably over the fact we were both sporting
mismatched socks. And agreeing to be my “special
friend” who would protect me from the rest of the patients (I assumed they were
just Hollywood extras), I felt my left arm go numb as I drifted off to a deep sleep.
Coming to (in what felt like only
moments later), I found myself roaming the grounds of the massive estate with
FBI liaison “J.J.” (aka actress A.J. Cook, also from Criminal Minds) as I confidentially shared the story of Dr. Reid
and myself, although I was relatively certain that the whole experience had
been nothing more than a mildly lucid dream.
And promising never to divulge my
secret, J.J. and I ambled arm in arm along, taking small notice of both
“Kimball Cho” and “Grace Van Pelt” (aka actor Tim Kang and actress Amanda
Righetti from The Mentalist); who
jumped feet-first into a deep ceramic fountain beneath a monumental sculpture
of Venus de Milo, so as to interview a massively-scarred Vietnamese woman who
was currently swimming the backstroke.
“She’s just another extra without a
speaking role, but don’t worry; they’re paying her a lot of money for both
treading water and sitting in the make-up chair for four hours” J.J. patted my
hand comfortingly.
Suddenly back inside the Common
Room, I espied the aforementioned Matthew Gray Gubler, offered him a seat on
the couch and promptly apologized for confusing him with his on-screen character. Of course I knew the difference (since I
too am an actor in Hollywood), and I was looking forward to an intellectual
discussion about his favorite episodes that he had actually directed.
But with a noticeable “cuckoo”
twisting finger next to her head, J.J. telepathically transmitted my
embarrassing dream to him; which sent him reeling into a maniacal fit of
humiliating laughter as my right arm suddenly became numb.
And back to sleep I went.
Sitting in my padded room with the
door wide open, I felt distracted. The
little dollhouse shadowbox in my lap glistened with shining gems that I was
somehow supposed to collect, but a youngish character actress (whom I couldn’t
quite place) was hounding me to watch her pet rabbit for a week while she got
to leave the grounds for a few days. And
finally agreeing to do so, I placed the floppy-eared bunny into my deceased
kitty’s carrier for safe keeping, whilst the girl unpacked a cardboard box of
complex Doppler weather monitoring equipment.
Returning to the diorama however, I
only had enough time to amass three diamonds, which actually turned out to be
miniature Barbie doll-sized light bulbs in the palm of my hand.
And that’s when it (literally!)
dawned on me...
I was seriously an
inpatient in an insane asylum!
Well, no wonder everyone was acting so
crazy! Oh, but now I had the proof! Yes, the next time the doctors stuck a needle
in the arm, I’d have my little stash of light bulbs hidden somewhere next to
the bunny rabbit to prove my sanity!
After all, clearly I’d burrowed
deep Undercover with the assistance of the FBI to expose the ugly secrets of
mental health care; and upon discovering my encoded notebook which would
eventually lead to the Nobel winning story I would publish, the staff had taken
to medicating me to maintain my silence.
Duh! (Naturally, I felt a twinge of guilt that Barbara Walters would have to
come out of retirement to host the special interview, but I figured the ol’ gal
could hack it.)
Back in the Common Room, I found
J.J. working on a legal file folder, sitting at a wooden table under a large
white umbrella. (“Quite smart of her” I
thought, since it was raining indoors that day.) And taking a seat on the throne at the head
of the table, I asked where my favorite Dr. Reid had gone. Without so much as a blink, she pointed
upward, and then steadily continued to secretively complete my paperwork.
Sure enough, climbing steadily up
the side of the umbrella like a monkey in the Amazon, there appeared Dr. Reid,
who stopped momentarily to shriek at me through the canvas.
“You do know that you have to give back the rabbit, right?” J.J.
suddenly looked up at me with shifty eyes, whispering as she scanned the room.
The BUNNY!!!
Tearing my padded cell apart, I eventually
found the cage which I’d left unattended for a week, and panicked at the sight
of a furry misshapen creature which had morphed into something not of this
earth. “You must be so hungry! You must be so thirsty!” I cried in horror,
racing outside into the darkness to bathe the creature in the fountain – only
to discover that massive steel bars surrounded the water to prevent the inmates
from drowning at night. “Omigosh,
omigosh, omigosh, I know there’s a hose around here somewhere!” I shrieked,
lapping the massive estate twice until I finally found one.
Unfortunately, the landscapers had
gone digital, and the only way to get water out of the hose was to interface
the cable with a USB port. “Oh, you poor
thing” I wept profusely, trying to un-mat a dirty clump of fur as the creature
began to wearily lap at the water running over its “head” and “back”.
“Don’t worry, he’s relatively
resilient” the character actress (whom I still couldn’t place) suddenly
appeared. “Just tell me; where the hell
is the Doppler weather equipment?”
I wasn’t sure how we got there, but
the next thing I knew I was standing in someone else’s kitchen, trembling in
terror as the furry creature morphed upright into a raven-haired man with piercing
black eyes. “You’ve still got some gunk
in your fur there...” I fearfully pointed to the back of his head.
“Ghirardelli dark chocolate squares”
he snapped at me, slapping away my hand irritably. And breezing past me through a wall of hanging
beads into a room full of actors dressed in Shakespearian costumes, I knew I
had to ask the hard-hitting question for my Nobel winning research.
“So are you a rabbit who changes into
a man, or a man who changes into a rabbit?”
And theatrically slinking toward me to
stare me down face to face, he took my chin in his hand and announced sagely, “There
are more things in heaven and earth, Horatio, than are dreamt of in your ring,
ring, ring.”
Bolting upright in a cold sweat in
the sanctity of my own home, in my own bed, I was relieved to be awakened by
the sound of an annoying telemarketer abusing my land line and answering
machine, as well as my television volume on low, which happened to be airing an
old episode of CSI: Miami, with actor
David Caruso starring as “Horatio Caine”.
Good grief, what an exhausting
sequence of events! I was amazed at the
highly specific details of the dream in the light of day; yet still moderately
shaken up at the experience as the sanitarium had seemed as real and plausible as
the cold rain in the Common Room!
In hindsight of course, quite a bit
of the bizarre events did make a
modicum of sense...
Obviously the open-door padded room
reflected my current comfort zone; the numbness in my arms were likely my
pea-brain’s gentle way of subconsciously reminding me to occasionally roll my
ass over during hard-core sleep; the diamond light bulbs were probably
flashbacks to spending too much time playing games on my Kindle; the cameo
appearances by actors were noticeably fresh from my day of TiVo cleaning; and
the blurbs of confusion over the Doppler effect could easily be dismissed as a
couple of simple reports from local weathermen on the television.
As to the attention to detail –
well, that’s understandably a nudge from my right brain feeling neglected by
repetitious logical overuse of the left brain whilst solving crossword puzzles;
and even the “bunny” (I suspect), symbolically represented mourning over the
upcoming one year Anniversary of losing my heroic feline best friend Pretty last
May 25th...
>>><<<
Methodical interpretations aside, I
couldn’t ignore the yearning for a bit of comfort food (no pasta or after-dinner
mints this time!) to assist in my mental recovery.
And where would I naturally choose
to go?
Wheeling Cecilia (my car) into the
McDonald’s drive-thru, I drooled (non-psychotically, mind you) in anticipation
over the juicy, properly seasoned Angus burger patty (complimented with double
slices of Swiss cheese and a dollop of mayo) that I hadn’t savored in approximately
two weeks.
“I’m sorry, but we don’t carry that specific
menu item anymore” the employee informed me flatly.
(What, wait, WHAT???)
“They weren’t really selling all
that great, so yeah” he continued.
(What, wait, WHAAAT???)
“We have a few of the other Angus
choices left for now, but Corporate’s totally discontinuing the Angus burgers
May 23rd. But they’re introducing a
brand new line of sandwiches after that!” he offered cheerily.
And the nightmare continues...
Paging Dr. Reid for medication
(STAT!),
~Patient “X”
Author’s Addendum: I debated over whether or not to include the
following; but after the last two weeks of countless hours of talking, and with
my friend’s blessing, I wanted to put out a universal wish of love and good
luck to “Logan” as a new journey begins.
Logan has bravely faced a personal severe alcohol abuse problem, and
will be voluntarily checking into rehab tomorrow for the next thirty days. I’ll miss you my friend, but clearly (since I’m
dreaming about being in a padded room) I’m already with you in spirit!!! 
