I looked out the floor-to-ceiling window of my apartment onto a wonderful, mystical dreamland. It was not accessible to me, unfortunately, for the window would not open, and my apartment door opened to a different, cheerless reality.
rained, and the water dripped down my window. Occasionally, the window
would leak, and drips would be delightfully refreshing, as opposed to
the tasteless gruel that came in through the door. There was often, but
not always, rainbows in the sky afterward.
the moon would be full and bright. Strange creatures would come and
dance in its glow, others changing as the moon rose to its apex. Even on
nights when it wasn't whole, but the sky still brightened and filled
with unknown stars in unfamiliar constellations, I would sit and watch
through my window.
Somedays a sun, or two, or more, would shine in my window, and I would lay on my floor and sleep in the kind warmth.
it might snow, and the world would be all grey and white, regardless of
the cycle of day and night. I had awoken in the mornings--according to
the world behind my door--and found unidentifiable tracks passing by my
window, the only scars on the flawless sheet of white. Once, I caught a
deer-like creature--but with a thicker, longer neck, and small vampirish
fangs--staring in at me, no doubt wondering about the world on my side
of the window as much as I did its own.
I would sit and
gaze out that window--or bang on in my more spirited or desperate
moments--until sleep took me, then lie there until I awoke, every day
and night of my stay in the cell. At first, the passing guards would
joke, later gossip, still later muse and contemplate, as they looked in
through the barred and padded window in the door.They watched and
laughed as this poor soul--so they saw me--interacted with one of the
padded walls of his cell--my cell, my apartment--for they could see no
The psychologists were patient at first, but soon they too saw no hope for me.