A STRANGE SONG

He could remember an infinite expanse of blue then the sound of breaking glass, a screech of tyres and fluttering birds around him. Before that there was nothing and afterwards just this white cage and strange figures. He was confused but unable to communicate any of this to the figures in white. They seemed to be trying to articulate something to him or find something out but he couldn’t understand their sounds, their thought images were confusing and his own attempts at being understood seemed to be falling on deaf ears. When they mumbled amongst themselves he could see flashes of images, but none of them made any sense.

One of the figures moved towards him with a long silver stick, stuck it in his shoulder and walked away; slowly he drifted from this strange reality and back to the tree tops and blueness.

Robin should have been courting the hens, protecting his territory. Instead he headed to the window again, unfamiliar concerns crowding his mind. Was Jessie ok? Would the doctors be able to help? How would he get on in his job? Would he ever even return to work? All of this seemed strange yet somehow natural to be wondering about, more important than the yearly pull to find his mate, raise chicks and hunt insects or find berries. He sat on the window ledge and knocked on the window. Robin could see Jessie perched on the side of the bed, dazedly looking about the stark room, hunched into himself. Slowly he looked up and stared fixedly into his eyes as though trying to communicate through the power of thought.

Images flashed quickly across Robin’s mind, blue skies, a cage, a nest… and a questioning feeling behind it all. He opened his mouth to respond – not quite knowing how he understood that the images came from her. “twiddle-oo, twiddle-eedee, twiddle-oo twiddle”
He tried again knowing the words he wanted to say and keeping them firmly in his mind.
“twiddle-oo, twiddle-eedee, twiddle-oo twiddle”

Jessie seemed to understand this time and jumped from the bed coming closer to the window. Again images flashed across his mind, a pale pink sky with a glowing orange orb, dew and a crisp feeling of morning, all imbued with a feeling of complete joy and hope. He understood and replied, letting her know he would return. An urge to spread his wings overcame him and he took flight, landing on a branch in a nearby hedge. Jessie was all but forgotten.

The figures returned to Jessie’s room later that day. Again they spoke at him and sometimes amongst themselves. He was beginning to pick up some words from their talk, random words stayed with him – Dissociative disorder…alteration, identity confusion… posture…amnesia – he was unsure what this all meant but knew it was in regards to him and was afraid for himself, afraid for his future, something he’d never been conscious of feeling before.

Later a woman came in with a tray of food and a plastic cup. Jessie remained perched on the bed as far back as he could huddle into the corner. The woman strode up to him, reached for his head and held his face in her hands, forcing his mouth open she pushed some pills inside and down his throat. The tray was then left on the table by the bed and the woman retreated closing the door behind her.

Once alone Jessie eyed the food and hesitantly pecked at the rice. After a while he became drowsy again. It was dark outside now. Carefully he tucked his head under his arm and closed his eyes.

The sky was just showing the first pale fingers of dawn when Robin returned and tapped on Jessie’s window. He had wanted to sing in the dawn with the other birds, enjoy the shared visions of a new day, to lift his voice in praise of life and insects! But the new unfamiliar side of him urged him to go back and see what was happening to the woman in the stone and glass cage. Jessie was already awake and squatting on a chair by the window. He must be beginning to use his arms like the other humans.

All Jessie projected when he arrived was a request for silence and he moved his lips while the thought pictures appeared in his mind. He complied, wanting to anyway; he’d always liked to wait until the first traces of pink appeared before he joined in with his song. He wasn’t sure how he knew this but it was beginning to become more natural, not just the singing but the feathers, the woods, the pull of the seasons and complete awareness of now. Robin hopped about on the window, turning to face the dawn; aware of Jessie’s presence, he sat and waited for the rising sun’s beauty.

Slowly at first the pale grey bled into white, warmed up to amber and the first traces of pink appeared. A burst of song broke from their throats at the same moment “twiddle-oo, twiddle-eedee, twiddle-oo twiddle” Jessie’s a strange whistling yelp from behind the glass and the glorious joyful sound of his own bursting from his throat. Ahh it was bliss! To be a part of the beginning of the day, to sing in chorus with the maggpies, pigeons, thrushes, finches and any others who joined in.

When the sun had risen high enough for his praise and joy to subside he turned back to the window. Jessie’s eyes were glued to him, images flooded to him about yesterday and his lips moved rapidly, small gasps and squeeks occassionally emitting from them. He kept his focus although understanding was becoming harder than it had last season. He replied and could tell that despite his present concern he was being of little help. Part way through his projected explaination he suddenly flew off in search of insects and seeds, no longer able to hold himself their in obendience to this ever more increasingly unfamiliar will.

The men in white returned later that morning, Jessie was still perched on the chair wistfully looking out the window. This time when they spoke to him he grasped some of the meaning in their sounds. He tried to answer, focussing on the images he was trying to convey and miraculously words dropped from his lips.
‘Where am I? I want to fly again’
The men smiled kindly, looking at each other with congratulations as though they had taught him how to speak. They answered slowly.
‘Saint James’ Psychiatric Hospital, you’ve been here for almost three months now, you were in a bad car accident.’

Memory flooded back through Jessie’s mind although it wasn’t of any car acident. He’d been flying through the woods and crossed the path where the racing machines ran. As he swooped down with the air current he’d colided with the window of one of the machines, then woken up here in this hospital/cage. As the memory of the collision came to him he toppled from his place on the chair and banged his head hard on the floor.

Robin had been pecking at the earth trying to snare himself a particularly clever worm for his lunch when suddenly he toppled over on his side. When gained consciousness he was in a bed in a white room, a bandage around his forhead. He looked down at the sheets in wonder, confused by the dream he’d had of endless blue skies, magnificent sunrises and singing like he’d never done before.