When we recognize and embrace the ‘otherworldly’ or the ‘fantastical’ it is considered delusion, a sickness of the mind that bends and warps ‘true’ reality so that we are unable to choose between what is ‘real’ and what is ‘imagination’.  When this happens, or so society says, we need to be ‘fixed’, through therapy and repetitive cognitive exercises.  Sometimes power pharmaceuticals are involved in this as well, cocktails of ‘mood stabilizers’ or ‘anti-depressants’ or ‘anti-psychotics’.  The goal of course is to ‘get better’ and eliminate these ‘imaginings’, but I have found the flaw in their plan…

It matters not, you see, how well ‘medicated’ one is, and how many therapy sessions once has participated in.  When you hear the great black flapping wings, when you smell the dark stench of realms unknown, when the terrible Night-Gaunts come for you and drag you into the eternal abyss of night, they do not care if you got three gold stars on your behavior chart.  To the infinite and horrifying cosmos you are but a plaything, and your mental state is of no consequence.  The things they have to show you, the sound of the pipers, discordantly playing around the blind idiot god, these things will drive even the most sane man mad, so maybe it is madness that keeps me safe and sane…  I mean, maybe it is madness that keeps the traveler safe and sane.

And if the blasphemous Night-Gaunts fail to return a traveler to their bed, but instead drop them unceremoniously on the roof of their building, how is that to be explained?  It wasn’t a suicide attempt, clearly – I was nowhere near the edge, but was instead trying to work my way back into the warmth and security of the ward.  They still have not explained my unceremonious disappearance and re-appearance.  And they say it is I that was ‘imagining things’.