Delusional.(Kevin Hughes) “Why do you watch him so closely?”

“Because he is always smiling.”

“Is that bad?”

“Not for normal people…no. But for someone like him…I wonder.”

“He isn’t a threat…is he?”

“Oh, no. Not in any ordinary way.”

“What do you mean by that?”

“The only threat he is…is to our concept of reality, meaning, love.”

“I don’t follow you.”

“Look at him. I mean really look at him.”

Several moments go by. Then several more. Minutes even.

“I must be missing something.”

“What did you see?”

“I saw him smile. Laugh a few times. He looked like he was listening to something, or someone, and enjoying it. He looks…happy. Content. Alive.”

“Exactly. Yet the world he is living in is inaccessible to us. And our World is foreign to him. He doesn’t know we exist.”

‘Yeah, well that is why he is here. He is mentally ill.”

“Is he? Look at him. He takes care of himself. He sleeps well. He eats all his meals. He isn’t on any drugs, medicines, or special diets. He dresses himself, showers, and keeps his room neat. In almost every way, he is independent. Except for one thing.”

“What one thing is that?”

“If you didn’t guide him back to his room, he would wander the grounds until he died of starvation….and he would still be smiling and happy. He doesn’t know a thing about our world. Not even that we exist, feed him, and lock him in his room every night. Yet he is the happiest person I have ever seen.”

“I see your point. I wonder what he does inside his mind all day.”

“I wonder that too. We have done scans of his brain, tested his sensory input and the results are incredible. He doesn’t see anything, or anyone. At least not consciously. I mean look at him, he is wandering the garden - avoiding stepping on the flowers, or off of the path, but as far as we can tell, he doesn’t see the flowers, the path, or any of us. It is like his brain in encased in a cocoon separate from what his body is navigating in our time and space.”

“You mean he doesn’t know where he is?”

“No, I mean we don’t know where he is.”

The young man smiled again. Threw his head back and laughed. Still chuckling he reached out to hold a hand that nobody but him could see.

The Psychiatrist shook his head. The Chief Nurse did too. It was almost time for lunch. They would gently steer the young man into the Cafeteria. He would eat and carry on a lively conversation with the space across from him. Sometimes he would reach over to wipe something off of a chin (or lip) that no one else could see. Later he would sprawl on the couch of his room.

They would watch as he wiggled to make some space under the blanket about the size of a companion. He would pull the blanket around that space, and himself. Then he would read - out loud. After a while he would ask if she was sleepy. They would watch as he carefully pulled the blanket up around the empty space, with the gentlest, most loving, kind movement. Then…he too…would slip into sleep.

He would smile gently as his one hand outside the covers made soft gentle curves over the blanket.

They would close the door behind them.

Whatever world he lived in…they sometimes wish they could join him.

Nothing from our world got through to him…and only love and laughter escaped from his world to ours.

The Psychiatrist laid his chart to the side. She chuckled to herself as she read his Diagnosis:

“Delusional.”

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