Mental Magic

“So, Aidan, why don’t you tell me a bit about yourself? Why am I seeing you today?” Dr Kaldor adjusts his glasses, a blank notepad resting in his lap.

“I didn’t exactly have a choice,” I respond.

“Of course, you have a choice, Aidan. We always have a choice.”

“Not when the hospital has you admitted to a psychiatric facility against your own accord. I told them I didn’t burn myself on purpose. It was an accident.”

“I’m sure it was an accident. A terrible one at that. Why don’t you tell me what happened?”

A small silence passes between us as I cross my arms. Though it looks soft, the chair is deceivingly rigid, making it difficult to turn away.

“This is a waste of time,” I say. “I should be preparing.”

“What is it that you should be preparing?” Dr Kaldor asks, readying his pen and pad.

I scoff and roll my eyes. “Like you would ever believe me. No human could ever believe me.”

Dr Kaldor tenses at the word “human” but continues his interrogation. “Remember Aidan, this is a judgement-free space, where ideas are free to manifest in any way they choose. What you believe is real is real to you.”

“Gee really?” I say, the sarcasm sharp in my voice. “Well then, why don’t I tell you all about something you’ll falsely diagnose as delusion associated with some sort of mental health condition? Then you can report back to the hospital validating their incorrect assessments based on false assumptions.”

Dr Kaldor purses his lips and furrows his brow for a moment before straightening his posture. “How about this,” he says, resting the pen and pad on the small table beside him. He shifts to a more comfortable position, shuffling back in his chair. “Whatever you tell me is just between you and me. And I promise not to judge you or make any assumptions.”

My eyes flick between the well-dressed psychiatrist and the abstract art hung on the poorly wallpapered wall. I’m gonna regret this, I think to myself.

“I’m all ears.” He gives me a look of genuine interest, though I’m not sure if I should trust it.

“First off, I’m not the only one to blame for the accident. The building owner always cheaps out on broken appliances that never get fixed. If it wasn’t for the broken stove, the fire wouldn’t’ve gotten out of hand.”

“You’re right,” Dr Kaldor says, looking like he’s holding something back.

Well… that’s a first. People rarely agree with me.

“That building has been known to have over 38 complaints from residents in the last 6 months alone.”

“Um… yes… exactly… well, I was trying to light the stove with… a spark… and then everything went to hell. There, you happy now?”

“It must have been the gas from the stove, I assume. Is that how the fire spread to the rest of the apartment?”

I didn’t know the damage was that bad. How does he know what happened if he’s asking me? “Yes… then I remember… I saw the fire and I ran out of there.”

“Right… interesting. Tell me more about how the fire began. What did it sound like? What was happening outside? What did you use to light the fire?”

“I used my hands,” I say this as if it were obvious, only to remember who I’m speaking to.

“I see. So, you created fire with your hands? Without any matches? Any lighters? Any tools?”

“It’s not something you could understand, but yes.”

Dr Kaldor stares blankly at me. He must be contemplating his next words, so he doesn’t send me into a breakdown or something.

“I told you,” I say, folding my arms, “you wouldn’t get it.”

“No, no. I do. I just need… some help in fully grasping it.” The good Doctor pushes his glasses to the bridge of his nose and tries to keep a straight face. “Can you explain to me the… mechanics… or the science behind how you made this happen?”

“It wasn’t science!” I shout, a glint of anger in my eyes. I hate it when humans try to dumb it down into science. I take a moment to settle myself. “It’s not science. It’s not something the simple human mind can comprehend.”

“Well, try and put it into terms that a simple human mind might be able to understand. Is it similar to something I might know?”

I roll my eyes. He’s really going to make me spoon-feed him the information like a helpless baby dribbling on his bib. “It’s what you might call magic.”

Dr Kaldor’s eyes widen, and he nods, though I suspect he doesn’t really understand.

“But not that sleight of hand, gimmicky rubbish for kids’ birthday parties. This is real magic; drawn from energy and balance.”

“See? That wasn’t so hard.” Dr Kaldor smirks. “I might not fully understand, but at least we can talk about this a bit more. I want you to go through the events of the… accident… and tell me exactly what happened.”

He must have the police report, and the statement I gave to the other doctors. I don’t know what he expects. But against my better judgement, I decide to play along. It’s not like he would really believe me anyway.

“Well, it was a gorgeous Wednesday morning. The sun was shining. The birds were chirping. Life was amazing.” My voice is soaked in sarcasm. I see Dr Kaldor diligently paying attention, so in a moment of grace, I humble myself.

“I had been practising my… magic… and read that a solar eclipse is the strongest time for magicians. Something about the alignment of celestial bodies or some rubbish like that.”

“As all magicians know to be true,” he interrupts, sounding like he’s an expert on the topic.

“Sure, something like that. The eclipse was going to happen the following week, so I wanted to prepare everything for it. It was all I could think about. But right then, in that moment, the only thing I wanted was some bacon and eggs.”

“Ah I see,” Dr. Kaldor says. “For the hangover, I presume?”

“Yeah, exactly.” Have I already told him about that? “Anyway, the damned stove wouldn’t light that morning, so I tried to light it with a small spark from my fingertips. I drew the rune with my ring finger and clicked my right hand.”

“Interesting. And is that when your arm was set ablaze?”

How does he know my arm was on fire? “Um… no. Nothing happened. Then I remember the room dimming, even though the lights weren’t on. And then… then I remember a shooting pain.” My memories tangle in my mind and tug loosely at my thoughts.

“What else do you recall?” Dr Kaldor’s pen and pad are still on the desk beside him, though I suspect he wants desperately to start scribbling.

I try to scrounge around my brain for any morsel of memory, scrunching my forehead in hopes that it will somehow help. But it doesn’t. Dammit. “That’s… that’s all I remember.”

“No recollection of your vision going blurry? No fade to black?”

“Nothing. Just… pain.” I flex and tense my right hand but feel no pain or stinging.

“Well, that’s progress at least. Thank you for sharing that with me, Aidan.”

The silence is thick and visceral as I stare at my arm, my normal-looking arm with the same patches of dark hair and collection of beauty spots. This all seems oddly familiar, as though I’ve had this meeting with him before. Many times, before. “Have we… already done this?” I ask.

The question unsettles Dr Kaldor, causing him to bury his nose in his notepad, which is somehow full of scribblings when it wasn’t before.

“Doctor? You’re avoiding the question. Have we done this before?”

He sighs and takes off his glasses, placing them on the small table beside him. Leaning forward, he rests his elbows on his knees and takes a deep breath. “This may come as quite a shock. Heavens knows it always has. But none of this,” he says, gesturing to the office around him, “none of this is real.”

I stare blankly at him. Maybe he’s out of his mind.

“No,” he says, as if hearing my thoughts, “I’m not out of my mind. This is all happening in your head. You’ve created this narrative to maintain your mind, believing, if only temporarily, that the events that landed you in this situation were not as serious as they truly are. This room is merely a projection of what you conceptualise a psychiatrist’s office to look like. I, myself, am not real.”

“I know I’m meant to be the patient here,” I say, trying to make sense of things, “but you’re starting to sound like the crazy one.”

Ignoring my comment, he continues. “You didn’t lose control of the fire. It erupted in your face, and you panicked, spreading it to the rest of the apartment. You lost control because the eclipse messed with your casting. Somehow, you preserved yourself here with your last bit of energy before passing out from exhaustion. Your body is being taken care of in the hospital.”

My thoughts ramble and rally and crash into each other. “How is… but why… how?”

“The solar eclipse was earlier than you expected. You misread the date. So, when it did happen, it magnified your magic more than you thought it would. That’s what you think happened, at least. You really should have paid attention to those online courses.”

My glare pierces through him. “You and me both know that those courses were run by a loon that had no idea what they were doing.”

“And yet that sounds exactly like what you’re doing.” He meets my stare, unchanged in his posture. “Well, what you did. I’m not quite sure if you’re going to make it through this one.”

“What do you mean ‘make it through’?”

Dr Kaldor flips through his notes that have somehow changed once again, this time resembling documents printed on a typewriter. “That spell seems to have done quite a number on your body. Third-degree burns along your left forearm and back, as well as most of the right side of your face. Not to mention your energy was drastically sapped after you burned down your apartment as well as the surrounding ones.”

My eyebrows raise. My breathing quickens. What’s happening?

“You’re in a stable condition, but you’ve been in a coma for the past few months at the hospital in Hilberken.”

“Well, why haven’t I woken up? I should be awake!” I stand to my feet and clench my fists. “I can’t be here. I need to get home. I need to– to–”

My chest grows heavy, and my legs give out beneath me. I fall back into the chair, eyes wide open but seeing only darkness.

~

Aidan is lying on a hospital bed, his face and arm wrapped in bandages and a breathing tube fitting under his nose. No get-well cards line the windowsill. No flowers or balloons litter the side table next to him.

The beep of the heart monitor rings in his ears. Constant and unchanging.

~

“So, Aidan,” I hear. My vision returns to me. Dr Kaldor is sitting opposite me, his legs crossed and a blank pad resting in his lap. “Why don’t you tell me a bit about yourself?”