ormenting dreams
Sergey Vassiliev
© Sergey Vassiliev, 2017
ISBN 978-5-4485-9665-0
Created with Ridero smart publishing system
I started to write this book a very long time ago, when the disease was actively oppressing me. I wanted very much to be heard, even more to be understood. Horrible things happen in the realm of tormenting dreams, as I called the place where I come from, the place where suffering and pain, injustice and despair rule, the place of unrealized hopes, evil and unceasing sorrow. The torments of life in this country can be felt by many, if not everyone. To fall into the trap of spiritual dreams and to become lonely – what could be more evil? The brand of madness frightened the brightest minds more than anything else. “No, it’s easier with a stick and a bag, no, it’s easier to work and starve,” as Pushkin thought. And undoubtedly, I would have to stay within the borders of this gloomy country, if there was no such wonderful person who showed me the way of hard labor and diligence, by which one can become strong and overcome the horrors of madness.
Introduction
What happens to a person exposed to the destructive effects of a mental disease? When, at what critical moment, do really start the terrible attacks which greatly alter the behavior that had before generally matched the social requirements? These questions are not critical and are asked without the basic understanding of the disease, but I’m going to answer them and to start my story from the point where I had first noticed the symptoms that became visible to others, and got already an irreversible process overwhelming the whole spiritual life, because this very topic, unfortunately, causes a keen interest in society in such cases. But this book is not written for these audience; the book’s main goal is to provide support to those who are ruled by terrible mental diseases, I want to encourage such people who are severely tormented by the terrible exposure of serious illnesses, showing them my way by which I coped with psychosis, setting free from the disease’s oppression and gaining the true mental health. What are the results of strong psycho disruptions and what do an ill human have to endure under the onslaught of insanity and shocking mental excitements? The description of this problem will give a better understanding of the very unenviable situation of a mentally sick person to those who face this issue. Most importantly, you will learn here who and how helped me fight the disease. All these topics are described detailed enough; the reader can deeply feel the emotions with which I had been filled for a huge part of my life, and can trace clearly enough almost every step in the formation of my personality: from its weak and crushed by psychosis state to a fairly stable and completely free condition. I frankly open to you all the above, but not limited to, describing the flows of emotions leading to a psychosis, making me submerge into maniacal and depressive fantasies, when I almost lost the important connection with the world which laws govern the life of capable people. I will try to explain in detail the story of my inner feelings, those jitters and manifestations of psychosis hidden from anyone else.
He who has ears to hear, let him hear, he who has eyes, let him see
Basically, a human already has a readiness for strange deeds; it is to say that a mental disease does not fall on him from nowhere; the ground for deviated behavior is prepared in advance, usually in very childhood. I was already sick being a child, but this news became known to me unfortunately late, when I was undergoing a course of psychotherapy at a fairly adult age and the mental disease manifested in actions already visible to and attracting others’ attention, which then seemed to come from nowhere, breaking out like an ominous protest to something inside me that was waiting for such a reaction which destroyed with a terrible noise all my former life and the previously defined productive missions and goals.
I just finished the first university year and, unfortunately, could no longer continue my studies: its cost abruptly rose, and many students, and me too, were transferred to other educational institutions. This, of course, was a shock, and I remember its wave effect in my soul: suddenly at the moment of farewell, I turned from my closed, quiet, broken somewhere inside, almost constantly dull state, hidden from my friends as much as possible, into a person I had dreamed to be being a student – vigil, easily communicating, self-confident and interesting. These are persons who usually is loved and respected by young people, the persons who are vigil and active. But I lost the world for which all this enthusiasm was expected, and in general, instead of even greater sadness and sorrow at the time of leaving, I rejoiced, on the contrary, showing no sign of my failure to others, as if a happy event occurred to me, thus shining with joy. May be this is the right way?, you may ask. But here’s the point: this euphoria was an inflated, sick mental state, a part of the incoming sorrow of an incredible scale. At that time I have spent the entire limit of tolerance to horrible feelings and was already being destroyed from within, losing control, falling into the abyss of a sorrow that is the worst for a human – the horror of madness. And this leap of mood was the first effective phenomenon, a change in the attitude towards the reality, a harbinger of the disease inception. Filled with this wave of strange idleness, I rushed into another university, having passed the entrance exams, but found myself to have weak erudition, since maniacal exultations strongly weaken attention, the necessary memory properties and assiduity. But somehow, by the power of my new charm, which, as I realized, make proud all the patients with such a disorder, I managed to enter the next year in another university, while my mood was beginning to take on already dashing forms of a real disease.
On vacation I began to calm down a little, but it was a respite before meeting the unthinkable. It happened to me to get acquainted with a strange woman. She came to my village to live her unusual life, anyone understood her intentions, the mood of which she brought from India, having absorbed there a lot of unknown and mysterious, which she decided to share here with everyone who wanted to, especially with us, teenagers. Experienced in rural life, we rushed to help her in household activities, getting from her in return knowledge about what was happening in mystical India. And, I must say, I, as the leader of her helpers, always wanted to get a very good support from this communication and, perhaps, even the healing of my skin disease, which was incurable by official medics; my soul was especially tormented by the fact that the disease was noticeable to girls who cruelly mocked at me. So I waited for the help of this mysterious wisewoman in this very important issue. After all, she had a healing remedy called “prasāda”, a divine powder that was materialized from nothing by the real living Indian god Sai Baba, who was now on the other side of the world and worked miracles, healing people, and also materializing valuable objects, and, in general, performing all kinds of miracles. Of course, I was interested in this, even too much. She did not give me the powder, only teased, but I got the picture of God. And imagine my surprise, when I started meditating, looking at this photo with a prayer for healing, a miracle occurred, suddenly the spots of my illness ran down Sai Baba’s face, and my complex disappeared at once, I felt calm, and I stopped worrying, having developed the indifference to this disease, for the God was smiling, looking at me, covered with vitiligo stains, showing the insignificance of my grief, which I had suffered for almost all my life, trying all possible ways of treatment, and felt myself completely destroyed by this problem. Certainly, I was delighted with such a surprise, it was like a load off my mind, now I had no complex, at least not so much, and it was very important for me.
And then, being sure that the God is real, because he could save me from suffering, which had been so bad, I decided to ask him questions by way of telepathy.
“Why do wars occur in the world? When God appeared on Earth, how could he allow such injustice?” – and so I fell asleep with these thoughts, but in sleep began to see fast my own memories, which suddenly rushed from the depths of my memory along with a flow of strengths unknown to me before, and jitters started to twist inside my mind. “It’s me,” I told himself then, as soon as I recognized myself in the past, “both this and that.”
So everything whirled in my head, and suddenly I got a feeling of great power, I can say, when I quickly recognized myself in the pictures of the past that were falling on me, as if decoding my life in search of something. I was