The True Nature of Reality

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Humor  |  House: Booksie Classic

Brian was quite normal untill he got hit on the head

The True Nature of Reality
 
 
Brian fidgeted while he sat in Dr Allen’s waiting room. He was an odd looking man in his mid forties, his nose was too big, his mouth too broad with it seemed too many teeth, but when he smiled you felt that the worst was over and everything had turned out alright in the end. He half heartedly studied the national geographic he was reading with its worthy photography and a story about a hitherto uncontacted South American tribe. The magazine was a few months old, by now the tribe probably had at least a couple of their number studying for their cost accountancy exams.
He tried again to focus on the magazine in hand and to ignore the two brightly dressed gnomes which stood in the reception desks kneehole and were taking it in turns to peer up the receptionist’s skirt. The receptionist became aware of his sidelong glances and gave him a dirty look and then crossed her legs. He turned his attention to the vase of cut flowers which stood on a side table, a couple of fairies were playing hide and seek amongst the rose stems.
Brian hadn’t always been able to see things that weren’t there, that had happened recently. He’d been walking down Tidton high street when a loose roof tile had fallen and struck him on the head causing a severe concussion. When he woke in the hospital the world was very different, there were little people, pink elephants you name it, and they were everywhere. When he was unwise enough to mention it to hospital staff there was a fair amount of nervous laughter and then they began to treat him more like a radioactive sample than a patient. Specialists in brain trauma were called in. Every scanner and medical device that the hospital had was brought into play, tumours were sought, but nothing was found. After all the tests no explanation was found and so the general consensus became that he was just bonkers.
He was sent to a lovely peaceful hospital in the country. Every room had rubber wallpaper and the place was surrounded by a very tall and sturdy wall. He realised that the only way he was ever going to leave was to deny the existence of the gnomes, pixies and little aliens with almond shaped eyes. Brian had been assigned to a Dr Allen, a rising star in the field of psycho analysis. Brian had to convince him that he was ‘much better now doctor’ in order that he be able to leave.
“Mr Jones,” Brian was being called,”Dr Allen will see you now.”
Brian knew if he could carry through this session successfully there was a good chance he would be able to leave the Tall Trees mental institution for good, all he had to do was convince Dr Allen that he was telling the truth about no longer being able to see the little people. He took a deep breath grasped the door handle and went in. He made a wide detour away from the obligatory couch and sat instead on the chair facing Dr Allen at his desk. The good doctor was making notes in a buff folder with his gold pen; he looked up over his half moon spectacles and smiled.
“Brian, how are you?”
“I’m Fine thank you doctor.”
Dr Allen put down his gold pen and took off his glasses.
“So how are things?”
“Oh fine.”
“No visitations from the little people?”
Again Brian was treated to the wry smile and the raised eyebrow. Brian tried desperately not to notice the small team of gnomes who stood right there in front of him on the doctor’s desk. They were loading the gold pen onto a small which they began to gnome handle across the blotter to the crane they had assembled on the edge of the desk. Brian closed his eyes for a moment and rubbed his face with his hands, he then opened his eyes, treated the doctor to his most winning smile and lied through his teeth.
“No doctor, not one, not for months.”
He absolutely refused to notice the gnomes had managed to lower the pen to floor level with the crane and were now loading it into a larger cart pulled by a team of mice.
“Well I don’t think I need to see you again, if you need to speak to me you know where I am.”
“Thank you, doctor.”
Brian got up and headed to the door relief coursing through every vein. The gnomes had negotiated the rough areas of the rug and were pushing their golden treasure under the sofa, he had his hand on the door handle, he was free.
“Brian.”
“Yes doctor.” Brian turned to see Dr Allen peering under his blotter.
“You didn’t happen to see what I did with my pen did you?”
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 


Submitted: March 07, 2010

© Copyright 2021 Richard M Bromley. All rights reserved.

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Comments

Baz

Another winner, Richard. Your writing style flows beautifully, as usual. And another wonderfully quirky storyline. Top marks.

Sun, April 25th, 2010 2:50pm

steveyeti

In my reality I greatly enjoyed it

Sat, December 3rd, 2011 4:01pm

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