My Journal of the Inner World

Until I was in the psychiatric hospital in 2005, I had never heard of DDNOS, let alone even considered that I have it. Something unusual was happening, but that’s all I knew.

In 1996 I picked up a pen and started writing a journal about events that did not happen in the real world. It was so realistic that I showed it to my friends, amazed by the realism. I thought I was a creative genius.

I thought it was just a story until I reread an entry I wrote earlier that day and found a cryptic message. How on earth did that message get in there? I remember writing the account but not inserting a hidden message in the process.

I later included entries from my real-world journal to further add to the realism. Also, every good story needs a good beginning.

The first three entries are from the real world. For this thread, I changed the names of real people to their first initial and edited the names of places for security reasons.


March 19, 1994

The events leading to my oldest sister L’s wedding reminded me of “A Mad Tea-Party.” But the wedding itself was uneventful. The groom’s father had arranged the previous night’s rehearsal dinner in a private room at Wyatt’s Cafeteria, but no one in the wedding party knew which, so we had to visit every cafeteria in [Home Town].

“A Mad Tea-Party” continued into the rehearsal. The pastor didn’t show, so we practiced in the church parking lot. The groom’s grandmother stood in place of the flower girl, and instead of flowers, she threw leaves.

Although the day began as it should have, at 11:00, Aunt F (who had made the wedding decorations) called, saying her tire had a blowout in [City]. I didn’t look presentable for the occasion, but I had no choice. I used Dad’s truck to pick up F and take her to the church. We arrived in time to decorate.


September 9, 1994

Last night after watching Entertainment Tonight, I put on my scrubs, went to sleep around midnight, and woke up at 3:30. At 6:30, I got up, made breakfast, washed dishes, fed the dogs, and went back to bed. I then woke up at 11:50, took a shower, got dressed, and arrived at the 12:30 French Club meeting six minutes late. I later had lunch at Whataburger. Between 2:30 and 3:00, I got home, put a load of laundry in the washer, and took a walk. At 4:00, I watched Animaniacs. During the commercial break, I put the clothes in the dryer.

At a few minutes till 5:00, I started writing in my journal. An hour later, I changed into the jeans I wore on May 14, 1992 (the day I spilled bleach on them). At 6:00, I shopped for Dad’s birthday card, which has a picture of Tim “The Tool Man” Taylor lighting birthday candles with an industrial blowtorch.

I watched Entertainment Tonight, brushed my teeth, and put on my scrubs. It’s 11:46, and I’m ready to go to sleep.


September 17, 1994

We treasure some magical moments in life; like time, they quickly pass us by like a stranger in a crowd. During the past few days, I’ve thought of such moments. There’s one in particular that came out of nowhere. On a cold Saturday morning last fall, we pulled into a gas station after my sister C, and I got our flu vaccines. I remember a warm feeling had enveloped me. For a few seconds, I had become a child again. I experienced the sense of security only a child could feel. Then, just as quickly as it had come, the feeling left.


March 6, 1996

In December, I met three sisters, now in foster care, who remained steadfast in this challenging situation. Jeanette Isabelle Taylor, named after the French Christmas carol “Un Flambeau, Jeannette, Isabelle,” is ten-years-old and interested in science but wants to be a writer when she grows up. Brittany, named after the French province where her grandmother was born, is eight. Ellie, a feminine girl who likes sports and French children’s books, demonstrates a knack for interior decorating. She will be seven in May.


June 1, 1996

Yesterday, C and I had breakfast with Jeanette, her sisters, and their foster mom, Deborah. Deborah later assigned a job to her foster children, but Brittany protested and refused to complete her chore. C, for whatever reason, put in her two cents: “That spoiled brat needs her butt whipped.”

I stood up for Brittany even though I didn’t condone her behavior because I understood her plight. During the last few years, Brittany and her sisters had practically raised themselves. In February, their lives were turned upside down when they had to go into foster care. They were not accustomed to taking orders and experienced a rocky transition into their new environment. Brittany needs someone like Debbie, who has the patience, understanding, and willingness to take on the job and learn to be a mother.

Like in Jesus’ Parable of the Two Sons, Brittany did what Deborah told her to do.


June 17, 1996

Brittany was misbehaving today. She didn’t help with chores and complained about everything. She was even concerned with her dress getting dirty. I told her, “It’s wet outside. There’s mud on the ground. If your dress gets muddied, wash it.”

That evening, while washing the dishes, Brittany gave a dramatic performance. With a spoon in her left hand, the young actress rested her right arm against her forehead and declared, “I could have been a star, but instead, I’m stuck here washing these dishes.”

Later, after coming home, I thought of the dream I had about Brittany being run over by a bus. Some might say it was wishful thinking. Why do I care for Brittany? Maybe she reminds me of C. Even now, C and Brittany can be frustrating, but there are moments when I’m proud of both.

There was a time before the dramatic change when Brittany was a helpful person whom her sisters could depend on.


June 22, 1996

Last night, I realized Jeanette has the prettiest green eyes I have seen. I’d known the color, but it wasn’t until last night when I sat beside her and looked beyond her glasses that I saw how beautiful they were. Her eyes have the beauty and sparkle of emeralds; I hadn’t noticed that before.

I wanted to tell Jeanette, but how appropriate would that be? I’m an adult, and Jeanette, a child, and I didn’t want to give the wrong impression.


June 25, 1996

Today at the bakery, I told B about Friday night and asked what I should do.

B told me everyone likes compliments, including children, “Don’t worry about giving Jeanette the wrong impression. Tell her she has the prettiest green eyes you have seen. She’ll appreciate it.”


June 26, 1996

I took B’s advice. I drove to Jeanette’s house today and asked, “Do you know you have the prettiest green eyes I have seen?”

“Really?” Jeanette seemed surprised. “That’s so sweet of you.”

“I wanted to tell you when I was here Friday night but didn’t want to give the wrong impression.”

Jeanette laughed.

I continued, “That night, I noticed something more. Your eyes were prettier than ever, and they’re as pretty now as they were Friday night.”

Jeanette walked to the hallway mirror, removed her glasses, and carefully looked for a few seconds. I may have made her day.


June 27, 1996

I don’t know why, but Rebecca (Jeanette and her sisters’ biological mother) dropped in last night. The unannounced visit did not end well. Jeanette expressed her grievance and burst into tears.

When I heard what happened, I quoted a line from Steel Magnolias: “How you holding up, honey?”

“I’m still in one piece,” Jeanette answered.

I don’t know Rebecca, nor what happened; I can’t imagine why anyone would abandon her children.


July 4, 1996

Jeanette and her sisters spent Independence Day with their Aunt Elizabeth, Uncle David, and cousins at the lake and wouldn’t be back until evening.

That sounds wonderful, and I hope the girls build memories they would treasure. Part of me wishes they were with me at [Park], where [Home Town] hosts the carnival, free concert, and fireworks. Since Ellie likes Ferris wheels, I would have wanted to ride one together. While Jeanette is “[g]enerally . . . tranquil by nature” (Linda Goodman’s Sun Signs), she nevertheless enjoys fast rides. I don’t know what Brittany likes.


July 6, 1996

Today I visited Elizabeth to talk about her younger sister Rebecca. Knowing this is a delicate subject, I handled it with kid gloves. I began by commenting on how she and Jeanette look alike. “I imagine the girls got their looks from their mom’s side of the family.”

“They did,” Elizabeth replied, “Brittany looks like her mother.” Elizabeth paused for a second or two. “There’s something I want to show you.” Minutes later, she returned with a photo album. “These are pictures of Becky and me when we were young.”

This was my first time seeing a picture of Rebecca. It was scary to see how much she looked like Brittany. Rebecca looked exactly like Brittany as a child, except for her hair, which is a different shade of red.

“What was Rebecca like?” I asked.

“Becky never learned to be responsible,” Elizabeth answered.

“I know your mom was sick, and your dad had to work a lot.”

“Becky received more time than me. It wasn’t for our parents’ lack of trying.”


July 27, 1996

Four years ago, when Rebecca had left her kids with her mother, Jeanette had been six, and Ellie three. When the girls moved in with their grandmother, they brought little with them. Many toys and clothes had been left behind, including Jeanette’s dollhouse.

When Jeanette told me what had happened, I asked what she remembered about the dollhouse, and she mentioned the rocking chair.

I wanted to surprise Jeanette with a dollhouse rocking chair to replace the one she had years ago, wondering, “If I give her a miniature rocking chair, what memories would it bring back? Would it bring back warm memories of her early childhood, or would it be a reminder of what she’s missed out on?”

Yesterday, I bought a little rocking chair from a [City] hobby shop. The tiny piece was handmade, white with pink trim. I later mused, “How do I give it to her? Am I doing the right thing?”

I drove to Jeanette’s house and presented my gift to her.

Jeanette was surprised, “What’s the occasion?”

“No occasion,” I replied.

Jeanette unwrapped her gift and looked perplexed. Before she could ask, I said, “It’s to replace the one you left behind when you were little.” Jeanette didn’t speak. She looked at the rocking chair, removing it from its box.

As I stood there, I saw Jeanette in my mind as a young girl by her bedroom window, playing with her dollhouse. I saw her with a different pair of glasses, wearing a blue hair bow. I also noticed, because of the scene outside her window, that it was the middle of winter. The sky was gray, and the barren trees were swaying in the wind. I experienced another vision. Jeanette and her dad are at a small living room table playing chess.

Tears started flowing down Jeanette’s face.

“Are you okay?” I asked.

Jeanette looked up at me with her emerald-green eyes. “I’m fine. Thank you.” She held up the rocking chair. “This was very thoughtful of you.”

When she looked up at me, with tears in her eyes, I could see she was wearing a “mask.” Maybe she didn’t want anyone to see the real Jeanette Taylor. Perhaps beneath the “mask” of a well-adjusted child is a little girl in a lot of pain.

“Did you and your dad play chess a lot before he died?” I probed.

“Dad was teaching me. As an English professor, he didn’t have a lot of time. He only had time during Christmas break,” Jeanette said, confirming part of the vision.

“Was that the Christmas you got your dollhouse?”

“Yes, I was five years old,” she continued, “that’s weird.”

“What?”

“You asked about chess. I was thinking of one instance when Dad was teaching me.”

Before leaving that day, I sought more confirmation: “Did you have your dollhouse by your bedroom window?”

“Yes,” Jeanette said, confirming what I had seen. “Why do you ask?”

“I was curious.” I had long since had an interest in the paranormal but never experienced anything until today. Is Jeanette the telepath, or do I have some dormant ability?


August 6, 1996

My oldest sister had her first child today. A was born at 11:30 this morning.

The whole family arrived at the hospital tonight to see L and her baby. When C saw her niece, it was love at first sight. Everyone doted over A. The poor child will be spoiled, especially by her grandmothers and great-grandmother.

I wonder how A will perceive the world as she grows up. What magical moments will she remember while becoming an adult?

I also thought about how Jeanette and her sisters perceive the world. What magical moments will they cherish? Even when experiencing visions, a person wouldn’t fully understand how someone else sees the world.


May 10, 1997

Today at the church men’s breakfast, David (Jeanette’s uncle) asked about my journal. I told him I hadn’t written since March when Jeanette had forgiven her biological mother.

At breakfast, the men discussed the upcoming golf tournament. Like most of them at church, David likes golf. He and Alex Taylor golfed regularly. Not only were they brothers-in-law but also friends.

With the fifth anniversary of the plane crash a week away, Alex’s absence feels more real. Though I never had the pleasure of meeting him (I met his family two years ago), I sense the emptiness my friends feel. It’s incredible how one man’s life and death can affect the lives of many, even those he never met. I remember the weekend his plane crashed when I had gone to [State] for my cousin V’s wedding.


February 28, 2000

A few weeks ago, I joined an online amateur writer’s forum. Coincidently, one of the members is Jeanette’s seventeen-year-old cousin, Renée. I knew nothing about Renée until I found her unfinished autobiography in the archives. In it, Renée mentions her “orphaned” cousins, whom she hadn’t seen since she was nine.

Renée and her family live in [City, State], which is another coincidence. I’ve passed her hometown many times when visiting my relatives. The only time I recall stopping in [City] was May 17, 1992, the day after Renée’s uncle had passed away.


March 4, 2000

I received confirmation that Renée is Jeanette’s cousin. There’s so much I want to learn about Jeanette’s dad’s family. I was delighted to meet another family member.

Unfortunately, Renée has withdrawn herself from the world. I don’t blame her. After all, I believe I know what’s happening. Renée seems to be the type who has lots of friends and sometimes finds herself in the spotlight. Other times she will crawl into her shell and shut the door. Jeanette’s the same.

From what I observe, “hiding out periods seldom last long, and before [we] get a chance to miss [her], [Renée] is back gregariously making the rounds again” (Linda Goodman’s Sun Signs). Until then, I have to wait to get to know Renée and the rest of Jeanette’s family.


May 19, 2000

Wednesday, after a period of isolation, Renée sent an e-mail via the forum saying, “Arik, I’m unsure if you still want to do that journal thing you were doing before I left. If you still want to, I’m game.”

She also addressed other forum members but not her cousin.


May 20, 2000

Due to my disability, I hadn’t been out much except going to the store. Contact with friends is limited to phone calls and e-mails. However, I did see Jeanette and her family today. They had come over and asked about my grandmother’s funeral.

I began with background information: “After Grandpa died in 1988, Grandma stayed with us for a while. Later, she moved in with Uncle D in [State]. Grandma died Saturday, and her body was flown to [State] to be buried next to Grandpa. The funeral was Thursday, their seventy-first wedding anniversary.

“It was nice to see [Town] again. I believe this was the first time I’d been there in nearly twelve years. I almost didn’t recognize the town, though that is where I spent a part of my childhood.

“Before the funeral, people I didn’t recognize or remember, yet who remember me, came up and hugged me. They commented on how much I’ve grown and how good-looking I’ve become. After the funeral, as we passed by the casket, A (who’ll turn four in August) said, ‘She’s dead; she’ll wake up later.’”

Jeanette quoted a line from Steel Magnolias: “How you holding up, honey?”

“I’m fine,” I said, “Grandma was eighty-nine years old and hasn’t been well the past few years. She’s back with Grandpa. Everything’s cool.”

I later asked Jeanette, “Did you read Renée’s e-mail?”

“The one she sent via the e-mail forum?” she asked.

I wasn’t aware of any private exchange. “Yes.”

“Yes, I read it. With Renée back, we can e-mail one another.”

“It’s unfortunate you haven’t seen Renée or anybody from your dad’s family since 1992.”

Before leaving that day, Rebecca hugged me and said, “Take care, darling, and get well. We miss you at church.”

“I’m working on it.” I hugged everyone goodbye.