I screamed, feeling my skin being ripped apart like wrapping paper. I tried to thrash my arms and legs, but more were holding tight to them. It tore at me arbitrarily, done with my skin and ready to disembowel me. I saw figures dressed in white, and screamed for their help. They placed a spider, with the same sickening carapace, on my arm. It bit into me, and I fell completely silent, quiet, unmoving. It paralysed me almost instantly, but I could still feel every evulsion.
All the while, in the back of my head, I saw a memory of an older man telling me, "It'll make you better. It'll get rid of the bad things, and you'll be okay and normal," as he stroked his thick, white beard that resembled a brillow pad. I could not cry out, or even blink as tears rolled down my face. It suddenly crawled up my chest, digging into my skin and holding on to my ribs. It pulled violently on them, as though they were some sort of cage it was trying to get into. I felt them crack and separate, as it looked into my eyes. It looked like it had diagonal slits in it's head instead of sockets; the eyes themselves resembled tar or oil, threatening to spill on my chest at any moment. They all suddenly formed into one big embolus, and poured themselves on my face; Filling my mouth and my nostrils, it deluged down my throat. I stopped breathing, and I blacked out.
But there was no mystery creature. I wasn't being suffocated. Instead, I was asphyxiating on my own vomit. Pretty picture, isn't it? No form trying eviscerate me, but drugs causing me to believe there was. No villains in white or spider bites, just doctors with sedative. I was strapped to a hospital bed, and Lithium was pumping through my veins once again. I laid dying from the lack of oxygen...
I woke up, drenched in sweat. I was lying on the couch next to Kira, both of us had fallen asleep. I tore all of my clothes off, still feeling their disgusting little bodies pressed against me. I fell to the floor, hugged my knees into my chest, and wept. It was more than just a nightmare. It was a memory.
The whole encounter was something I had repressed, erased every lingering memory of...or so I thought. I had no need or want for such a horrific recollection. I had been diagnosed with Bipolar Disorder before I was even a teenager. It was (and still is) almost unheard of to diagnose someone so young with Manic Depression, especially a case as severe as mine. And remember, this was nearly a decade ago; even the current ever-so-common diagnose of ADD or ADHD and prescription of Ritalin was pretty rare. I was in middle school at the time, and the white bearded man that was my doctor decided to go ahead and give me a very low dosage of Lithium. He told me that it would make everything better, so I could grow up and have a normal life.
I started taking the drug, and within a month I stopped. Aside from the common hallucinations and vivid nightmares, the world seemed so dull. It was like being forced underwater. Everything was flat and insipid without the ability to soak up every ounce of joy and pain in my flitting emotions. It was boring.
Three or so years later, when I was fifteen or so, I fucked up. I made the mistake of having a pretty severe "attack" in front of some of my family and I gave myself a concussion. I was forced in the hospital. They immediately put me on a full dose of Lithium, and I simply couldn't take it. The nightmare above was just one of the occurrences I had with it.
I had done everything to forget what it felt like, and it comes back to me. Why now? Why almost six years later?
Kira woke up, and wrapped his arms around my feverish body. I told him, and he did his best to comfort me. He had known of these events, and my desire to make them disappear. He played along as I lied to myself. And now...I feel sick inside again. Disgusted and repulsed by my own form. Do I not deserve to find peace in my life? Must my past come back to haunt me? Must my future look so grim?