The document is a first-person narrative written by a teenage girl experiencing hallucinations of her deceased mother. She is currently residing in a psychiatric clinic where she attends school, counseling, and group therapy in an effort to cope with the hallucinations. Despite following her daily routine at the clinic, the hallucinations continue to disrupt her thoughts and activities. She hopes that with continued treatment, she will be able to return home within the next three weeks.

1. Nightmare

2. Dead end
Turn the corner
Dead end
Blackness
Wall
Mom
Reach Out
Thin air
There is nothing.
I can see you
Fading
Don’t go
You smile
You disappear
Awake

3. I wake
again in a cold sweat,
white sheets twisted in
my clammy palms. I
begin to focus my eyes
in the blackness.
Wall
Shelf
Wall
Nightstand
Wall
Mom
I shut my eyes again
Open them
Mom.

4. I know you are not real
I know you are not real
I whisper to thin air.
I shut my eyes
I say the words over again.
I get louder each time I say them
I begin shaking my head violently.
I want the images to go away
I know you’re not real.
GO AWAY!

5. I was 15
when my mother got diagnosed
with a brain tumor. The doctor
said there was nothing he could do;
the tumor was metastasizing too rapidly.
It had always been mom and I.
Mom and me we were best
friends, and did everything together,
until mom couldn’t leave the house.
Mom, do you want to go to the park? It is a nice day.
No, I’m not feeling good; maybe another day.
That was her usual response.

6. That was the start of it
and
then
it
went
downhill
In October, she was given six to nine months. Those months were spent it bed.
In June, I went to live with gram.
That is when the dreams started.
I was 16 when I first saw her
that is the ghost of mom.

7. It was the same dream
every night I was trapped in a maze. It was
dark.
Then, out of nowhere mom would
appear.
She wore the clothes from the
funeral.
A Key West sweatshirt and jeans.
She wore the outfit all the time. It seemed
appropriate.

8. When I first had the dreams
I liked seeing her
then the dreams became horrid.
Mom would appear
then turn into bones
right in front of my eyes.
Gram was so depressed
from losing her only child;
I didn’t dare say anything to her.
They were only dreams.

9. It was a lovely
Wednesday afternoon in July. The sky was
blue and the sun shining. I was sitting in the
kitchen when I first saw the image of mom
standing outside the window. I couldn’t
believe what I was seeing.
Is this really happening?
Am I crazy?

10. A light flickers on
Two nurses come in
one is holding a needle.
I don’t want to see her, make her go away.
The nurse injects the needle
into my forearm.
She releases a light sedative
that will hold out until morning.

11. I wake
feeling groggy and my memory of last night’s drama is foggy.
I don’t have time to process because it is time for breakfast.
After being here for a week, the routine for the day catches on fast.
Breakfast Lunch Dinner
Med Group Counseling
Shower Break Free Time
School School Meds
Bed
REPEAT.REPEAT.REPEAT

12. The clinic
has girls all around my age
just with different problems.
Suicide
Drugs
Crazy
We all get weekly evaluations,
and if we show progress we can go home.
I’m shooting to get out of here by
the end of the month.
That is 23 days.
I think I can do it.

13. I really don’t
like this place, but gram insists I stay
here until
I snap back to reality.
That’s what she likes to refer to my hallucinations as.
She says she can’t handle losing her only granddaughter.

14. After a month
of living at gram’s my dreams started
becoming reality.
I could see my mom then she would
disappear. I couldn’t handle it anymore
that is when I decided to stop them
I grabbed gram’s painkillers and
emptied them into my shaking palm.
Then I took and unfolded a paperclip
Mine as well do it right
Gram walked in to find me half-conscious.
She still has nightmares about finding me.
I had blood on my shirt
and yelling belligerently.
I wanted mom to leave me alone.
I didn’t want to see her like that.

15. The dining hall
was becoming scarce.
Everyone was beginning
their daily routines. I throw
my breakfast in the trash
I walk down the hall,
which has colorful
morals painted by
other patients.
Five-paces
Dead end
Fifteen-paces
Left
Right
Enter

16. The room is
nothing special. The classroom looks
like any other with a chalkboard and desks.
The room was painted aqua blue
because the staff says its calming.
I don’t like it.
There aren’t any posters on the wall.
Girls got into too many tantrums.
They would tear them down repeatedly,
so the staff quit putting them back up.
There is a bookshelf in the back
with a few select book. Not many.
They have been pre-approved by staff.
We check them out like a library.
The teacher brings her own things
and take it home with her every day.

17. School is for
those who are able to function in a
classroom setting. There are occasional
outbursts and disruptions, but the clinic tries
to keep it as normal as possible.
There are five girls, including me.
Sara sits in front of me.
Her blond hair is always
scraggily from her constantly
pulling on it
Jen sits diagonally to the left.
She smells, and I wonder if she
even takes baths? I try not to
look at her much.
Amber sits diagonally to the right.
She is always mumbling to herself.
I try not to listen. She’s crazy.
Beth sits beside me.
But she hasn’t been able
to attend because of issues.
Poor thing.

18. I reach
underneath my seat and grab my book from
the rack. That is when she first appeared
through the doorway
Plain as day
I try to ignore the sight, but mom begins
walking towards me saying something, but
I can’t understand
Eyes shut
Open
Still there
Shut
Open
Still there

19. Tears begin
welling up and my palms begin gripping
the tops of my thighs scratching the top
layer of skin. None of the other girls notice
the behavior. I try to keep it to myself. I get
up and go to the hallway.
She doesn’t follow

20. Miss Smith,
my teacher,
is walking
towards me
holding papers
Hello, Jessie
Hello, Miss Smith
She knows
our history
and what
to avoid.
She knows
about my
hallucinations.
She doesn’t
ask questions.
It isn’t
her place.
Deep breath Exhale
Wait Enter

21. I follow
Miss Smith into the room.
The rest of the afternoon,
I obnoxiously chew on my
pen cap and can’t concentrate
I wait for her to disappear

22. At counseling
I confess
I saw my mom – again.
The doctor
shakes his head.
He asks
me to explain.
She just appeared
Uh, huh
He nods his head
and scribbles.
Well, the only thing we can do is up your
medication.
I see here you had another episode last
night. We still aren’t able to determine
what is causing you to have these
occurrences.
Therefore, what I want you to do is
write down when you have these
hallucinations, maybe we can find
a pattern.
I have no more
to add to the session.
It is cut short today.
Pointless.

23. Walking back
to my room
I keep thinking,
Am I ever going to get better?
Why am I like this?
Am I crazy?
Do others think I’m crazy?

24. At dinner
I can’t eat.
I feel nauseated.
The mixture of tomato sauce and
disinfectant smell only makes my
stomach queasier.
The cafeteria is small with five round
tables sitting eight. The food isn’t bad. That
is if you like processed food with hardly any
flavor.
You can tell the people who have been
here long. They eat the food. Every Saturday
there is a big dinner for everyone. I don’t
understand why. Nothing exciting really
happens in the cafeteria.
Just breakfast, lunch, and dinner.

25. I twist
my spaghetti noodles around on my fork.
The meatballs are too hard, so I can’t mash
them into the saucy mess.
I think
about how life used to be when I was
younger. When I was normal. When I
wasn’t crazy.

26. As I sit thinking
an image beings forming in my head
the image starts faint and becomes clearer.
As I sit thinking
I am starring my mom in the face.
The mom I remember beautiful and lively.
As I sit thinking
the face starts withering.
It looks terrifying.
As I sit thinking
her skin starts to peel off
until there is nothing left but bones.
As I sit thinking
her hair starts to fall out in clumps.
Her eyes look sad.
As I sit thinking
there is nothing I can do to stop it.
I can’t push the image out of my head

27. A nurse comes
and grabs my hands,
which are clawing at my head
The nurse is able to help
me focus and calm down.
I look down and notice
a tiny clump of hair in my fingers.
The nurse gives me a glass
of water and leads me to my room.

28. My room
isn’t anything special. People think it is a
communal room, which they can walk
through whenever.
Annoying
I have a bed, nightstand, small dresser, and
shelf. The furniture is old. It has been
replaced several times.
Stupid
My bed creaks – bad. That is how the nurses
can tell if I am having a bad dream or not
because they can hear my bed.
Weird
Once I got here, I became very organized. I
keep everything in a specific place. I like it
that way.

29. I lay here
starring at the ceiling of my tiny room. I
spend many nights starring up at the ceiling.
A piece of it is starting to crack directly
above where I sleep. It looks like it is going
to fall. I hope that it will be a big piece, and
hopefully it will hit me while I am sleeping,
so I won’t feel anything. I secretly think of
this to myself every time I look at the crack.
Just as I am thinking of my death scenario, I hear something.
Tap. Knock. Shadow. I shut my eyes.
It’s time for your group session. However,
the doctor said if you’re not feeling up to it
you don’t have to go today.

30. I open my eyes
to see the bouncy headed nurse
smiling at me like I am five years old
Yeah I’ll go
Sure beats the hell out of laying here
waiting for the ceiling to crash down on me.

31. Group is
no different each night. We all gather
around in a circle, so we can see
everyone’s shining faces.
Blah
The chairs are hard and uncomfortable.
The counselor is a complete idiot.
He sits in his chair and stares, interrupting when he feels.
Those who talk, talk.
Those who don’t, don’t.
I usually don’t.
I don’t want these strangers judging me
as I judge them. In ways, group makes me
feel better. It makes me realize that there are
people more messed up than me.
Relieving and Therapeutic

32. Everyone usually
talks about their day
I sit
arms folded.
I don’t understand the point of group.
I don’t care how everyone’s day went.
The doctors say it helps to talk about your problems.
I don’t want to
I sit
arms folded
The hour drags.
Time is up.
Everyone files out.
Another successful session.
Not.

33. We are allowed
to have free time before bed. Free time, like
we are in jail or something. Technically, we
are prisoners. It’s not like we can leave. Our
problems will still be there.
So, I join everyone in the “free room” –
how cheesy. That’s really what it is called.
There’s a sign over the door. It was painted
a while ago by someone who went here. So,
there is hope that one day we can leave.

34. The free room
is a place where everyone
can hang out. There is a lot
of seating, which I don’t know
why because there aren’t that
many people in here at once.
There is a T.V. on one wall.
I make my way to it. I sit.
The couch is comfortable
just about the only thing
here that is.
To my right there are two girls
holding hands. Awkward. I
move to the chair. Not as
comfortable.
I look up at the television.
Bad idea. Mom’s favorite
movie is playing “Hope Floats.”
I don’t like it anymore. I turn
the channel. Nothing else is on.

35. I get up
and walk to the bookshelf.
I pull out The Secret Life of Bees.
I read the back.
Boring.
We aren’t aloud to take books out of this
room because they will never come back.
I put it back.
Some girls are playing a board game. I don’t
want to join. I don’t want to make friends.
There is a girl crying, but no one pays
attention. No one usually does.
A lot goes on here. I don’t know why.
Maybe because it is almost time for meds.
Everyone is anxious.

36. Most of the free time
is cut short because
of some idiot acting up.
When this happens I
sometimes write letters
to grandma.
Letters of confession.
Letters of apology. I
never send them to her.
Gram sends me letters.
They usually say the
same thing.
She asks how I am
doing. If I feel any
better. Then she tell me
about her day.
At the end she tells me
that she loves me and
she will visit. But she
never does. I hope she
misses me.

37. The interruption of
sleep last night begins to take affect.
I start feeling drowsy. I hear something.
Strange. Weird.
No one is talking to me. There it is again.
Am I imaging this? Please no. There it is again.
Muffled. Quiet.
I can’t understand. Wait. There it is again.
I recognize the voice.
No!
I walk out of the room and to the
nurse’s station. I want my meds.
The voice gets louder, but is still
muffled.
I ask the nurse for my meds. She hands me
two small paper cups. One has water the
other has a green pill and a blue pill.
Anxiety and Sleep.

38. I walk
into my room and fall into bed.
I cover my head with a pillow.
I hum a tune to drown out the voice.
I begin to feel relaxed.
22 more days.
I roll over and stare at the crack.
I hope that tonight is the night.
Sleep. Dream.