mindreader

It’s driving me crazy. I’m flooded with other people’s thoughts. I don’t want to hear them. It’s like being on a busy freeway with everybody honking. My head is ready to explode. I wasn’t born this way. The head trauma caused by the accident opened some sort of portal in my brain. It must be a neurological phenomenon. I can’t explain it and my neurologist thought it was just my imagination. He looked at me as though I was crazy. Maybe I am but my experience is real. I’ve tested my newfound ability on family and friends. It’s uncanny. I can predict what they’re going to say or do. It’s both a curse and a blessing. I can track a person’s darkest thoughts and desires. No one can hide their real feelings about me. I had no idea that so many people disliked or loved me.

When I returned home after my hospitalization, I was shocked to hear my parents’ thoughts. Even though they expressed empathy and love, their thoughts told a different story. My mom secretly thought I was high when I drove over the cliff.

“He’s always been such a good boy. It’s his friends. They probably encouraged to smoke that awful stuff before getting into the car.”

It didn’t matter that there was a blinding storm that night or that the police didn’t find any evidence of drug use. She was sure I was high. My dad, on the other hand, was more concerned about the effects of the accident.

“I can’t believe his injuries weren’t more severe. He’s lucky that those trees prevented his car from crashing down into the canyon. It would have been game over. The concussion is a small price to pay. Still, he’s acting strange. Is it the concussion, PTSD or did the doctor’s miss something? His friends seem unscathed. Maybe it’s all that marijuana they smoked. I believe Stevie when he insists that he didn’t partake.”

At first, I thought I was just imagining what my parents would think based on past history. That impression was reinforced when my older sister, Betsy greeted me with an empathetic embrace but thought: “what an asshole!” It fit my expectations of her. Her actions were often for show. I knew better.Still, I was unnerved when my uncles and aunts visited. Their thoughts surprised and sometimes frightened me. I didn’t know my uncle Harry had a ‘thing ‘ for my mom, his sister.

“Look at her! She still has that great ass!”

Disgusting!

I didn’t need to know the petty complaints they had about each other. Their affection for each other now seemed false. As these thoughts flooded my consciousness, I wondered if I was becoming schizophrenic. I had just seen an academy award winning movie about this brilliant guy who heard voices. He was diagnosed with schizophrenia. I immediately did some research. Google did not find concussions to be a cause of mental illness. Phew!

***

Days and weeks passed, and the voices didn’t disappear. It wasn’t until I went on a date with Tasha that I realized I was actually hearing other people’s thoughts. She was a long-time friend who never showed any romantic interest in me. I’d been in love with her since eighth grade but kept it secret. She had plenty of boyfriends, but I was her best bud, her confidant. I never wanted to ruin our relationship, so I never revealed my feelings or made any moves.

One month after my accident, we were sitting in her car discussing our plans for college. She was going to the local college, and I had plans to go out of state. We pledged to keep in touch but the voice in my head said she wanted more. I was shocked.

“When is he finally going to make his move.? I’ve been waiting. I know he wants to, and I want him to be my first. Maybe he’ll change his mind about going out of state.”

Was this just my imagination reflecting my feelings? I had to find out, so I stroked her cheek. She immediately leaned over and kissed me. Not a peck but a full-on kiss, tongue and all. Wow! Maybe I was hearing her thoughts. When she told me her parents weren’t home and invited me to her house, I was blown away. It was only when I was lying on her bed in a postcoital glow, I really believed I could read her thoughts.

“Stevie, do you really have to go out of state for college? The university here is highly rated. Its architectural school is the best in the country.”

Her words reflected the voices in my head. I really could hear her thoughts! Then it turned dark.

“Maybe this was a mistake. It wasn’t all I hoped for. He didn’t seem to know what he was doing, and it only lasted less than a minute. Stevie’s a great guy but maybe sex is not his thing.”

What did she mean? Of course, sex is my thing. I just need to practice. We can’t all be sexual athletes the first time out. If she gives me another chance, I’ll show her!

She didn’t and I went out of state to attend college.

***

The traffic in my mind just got worse. On the plane on my way to school, I was inundated with a cacophony of thoughts. I looked around to see if I could match the thought to the person. It was virtually impossible. However, the young couple next to me were having embarrassing sexual fantasies about each other. I had a hard time maintaining a straight face. Other thoughts floating down the aisles of the plane were more mundane and boring. What did I care that Fifi the new puppy was having her period because she hadn’t been fixed yet? I was sorry that Ronny was contemplating leaving his wife because he suspected she was cheating on him. Still, not my problem! Jill’s prayers were touching but I didn’t share her anxieties about flying. Rob was clearly studying for some mathematics exam, but the theories were way above my head.

I was happy to deplane and escape the cacophony but at school, I encountered a new problem or phenomenon. Not only could I hear thoughts, but I could visualize images. It was a very handy ability for an architectural student or architect. My professors were amazed that I could produce drawings of structures or buildings they had just imagined. It felt like I was cheating. I knew if I told anyone they wouldn’t believe me or think I was crazy. So, I sailed through four years of architectural school as the star student. At graduation, I received offers from some of the best architectural firms in the nation. I was eager to test my unique abilities in the real world. It would be easy to design buildings and houses exactly as they were imagined.

My four years of school weren’t all about architectural study. I was determined to prove Tasha wrong about my sexual abilities and become a responsive sensitive romantic partner. I had several girlfriends and was able to cater to their deepest physical and emotional needs by reading their thoughts. They couldn’t believe how sensitive I was. If they only knew! I became confident, almost cocky. It was time to return to my hometown and conquer Tasha and the world of architecture. Then it happened! The morning, I was scheduled to travel home, the world became quiet. The plane ride was devoid of cacophony.

To my dismay, for the first time in years, I wasn’t able to hear thoughts or visualize images. I became an abject failure as an architect. After a few dates, Tash thought I had become an insensitive boob. For the first time in years, I had to use my imagination and actually be sensitive to other’s needs and reactions. It was hard work. I missed the ability to read and visualize people’s thoughts. I had become lazy. It was depressing. On the other hand, I didn’t miss the dark thoughts and cacophony that tortured me daily. If I had to choose would I want my ‘superpower’ to return?

Please, someone it me over the head!