Everything Unfiltered

He wanted to force me off the road because I was driving at the speed limit. But the worst part was that I could feel and hear his rage, even his thoughts.

“Damn tourist! Where did he learn how to drive?

He sped by me, giving me the finger.

Then, I heard everyone's thoughts when I got on the elevator at work. 

“That tie is so out of date…stop crowding me, idiot…I sure hope it's his cologne I smell and not his deodorant…See you! Baggy pants!

The boss was full of questions, but it was what he was thinking that I couldn’t get out of my head.

 It was the fastest turnaround ever. But I won’t show him I’m happy. Maybe he could work even harder. I‘ll have the department with the fewest layoffs this time.”

#

Mike slumped down where I was trying to be invisible at the snack bar in the basement of the building. I so wished he hadn’t seen me.

“Why so glum, Rob?” he asked as he started picking on the salad he was forcing himself to eat. The one that would see him ravenously healthy by 3:00 pm.

“Oh, nothing…”

“Nothing as in nothing doing? Or nothing worth talking about?”

Something told me this would be the last time I saw Mike. I was heading somewhere, but oddly, I didn’t care where.

You hear the swelling of the music when the scenery changes. Out in the sunshine for a walk. It’s so refreshing, so real. The colors explode into shards of what reality could be but isn’t. I feel like sliding away.

But it's gentle, not so disturbing. I must do a podcast when I get comfortable. Comfortable. It's oddly reassuring when you hardly sense change any more. For there to be change, there must be stability. Constant change isn’t change. It's its own thing. A skip to my lou that never ends…

Mike snaps his fingers inches from my face.

I want to say that I hear Mike from anyone but him. Like his uneaten salad, so barely there, a pretense of nourishment. I am the one who wants to say I hear all thoughts…

The ambulance is so clean. Everything shiny.

#

There are such exciting viewpoints on life. Shininess hides what can only be described as a bizarre lack of self-awareness. At least, I have come to think this way after almost no thought about myself. I can’t sense my thoughts about me at all!

So I know them better than I know myself. Without asking, they insinuate everything and understand nothing. That’s why they need me. They want me to hear their thoughts and sacrifice myself! It's a new beginning.

The hospital wants me to be an outpatient. “Released to the community,” of endless thought. It's getting worse or better. I haven’t decided yet. That will be up to everyone else.

A prophet is nothing without an audience. And I need an audience.

But then Mike comes to see me. And I am my old self again, not what I am becoming.

Pregnant with the idea of something that cannot be described. Yet, I must try to describe it.

Absurdity. That leads me to where I so desperately want to go.

I was talking to Mike. Focus now!

“I asked if they are treating you right here!” he yelled like he had been talking for a while.

“There is no treatment, Mike,” I replied.

He looked so oddly at me. “You know I didn’t have to come here. I barely know you. Where’s your family? Honestly! Is there anyone who even knows you are here?”

I’m looking through him. To the other side. It’s the thoughts that count. I never knew a Mike before now. Must speak. Say something to reassure him.

“It’s ok, Mike. Go about your life. I wasn’t supposed to see you again anyway.”

His eyebrows rise in such a peculiar way. Then it's all pleasantries and leave-taking.

“Well, that’s it then.” He gets up and nearly stumbles over the white chair he was sitting in, metal clanging about the floor, those echoes! So richly resonant. Mike stares at me. “Your sick leave should last for a while. Then you’ll be terminated, probably for job abandonment or something that ignores this…whatever this is.”

“Thanks, Mike,” I say.

#

Everything is set. I just wanted to let you know there is nothing more to discuss. But Doc was fun to meet with. There was little time for chitchat. Besides, who wanted to talk about thoughts and shiny things? Only Doc.

“Cigarette?” Like in the movies, a smoke. Doc has them on his desk, which has a shimmer to it. Is there anything so reassuring as a smiling doctor?

I stretch and have a look around the room. “You collect gold balls, plaques, and trophies?” I asked. The shelves were full of these things.

He chuckled. “Yeah, a ball for every goal I reach. The trophies are jokes my friends play on each other. If you read the inscriptions, there's one for driving a golf ball into Sherman Lake. A few for hitting various people. It’s for laughs.”

“Nothing is serious,” I commented.

Doc’s smile widened. 'Tell me more about your intake interview. You mentioned hearing everyone’s thoughts."

“Yes,” I said.

“Care to tell me more?”

“I think it's all there, isn’t it?”

Doc shifted in his chair and took a long drag off his cigarette, finally stubbing it in a green ashtray with a golfing symbol and miniature club sticking up.

“You know that people going out of their mind don’t know that they are…”

“Normal people tend to entertain the possibility that they aren’t sane?” I added.

“Exactly. So why are you here?”

“I’m waiting.”

“For what?”

"For what is to come."

"And that is what exactly?"

"The revelation and what part I play in it."

#

It was going to be my last day. And the end of everything could not come quickly enough. It didn’t matter that I was discharged, although not having a place to sleep or regular meals presented something of a problem.

The street corner had people walking by the cars that kept driving and driving. The perfect place for everything shimmery. That glow around everything was all I cared about. I no longer heard everyone’s thoughts. I could control it. Because of that, a peculiar excitement crept inside me, ready to pounce. I was ready.

Mike walked by, all dressed up, looking a little tired. He was surprised to see me. There was so much chitchat from him about the underhanded way the company "fired" me. Listening to him was so hard. A sudden rush of excitement soon took care of that!

“Is nobody going to say it?” I yelled, my patience at the end.

"Say what?' he asked, his voice tinged with confusion.

"That I am the one! The prophet who sees and hears all things!" I rejoiced.

I hurried away. The bliss of my unfolding was like that of a butterfly who flies from its cocoon. What place did my past have with what I am becoming?

Now I have my audience! Everyone is stopping to stare at me. Tiny people, their eyes unblinking, quite beyond the pale. So many prospects present themselves—so much more to explore.