All I can do now is ride it out… I thought, rubbing my shivering shoulders.

In most of my episodes now, I found myself returning to places I’d visited in previous deliriums. One was a steep cliff upon which I always seemed to find myself poised precariously on the edge. Another was an old city at the break of dawn, lined with porous stone buildings, and filthy cobblestone streets, but completely empty of people. The one that I visited least often, but which always made me the most uneasy, was a vast, marshy swamp land at dusk, where off in the distance rose a short range of mountains. In the middle of these mountains, however, loomed what appeared to be a fortress, jutting ominously from the hillside with black stone walls illuminated by eerie firelight.

This place, however, was completely different from anywhere else I’d visited in my episodes. Had I seen it in a documentary or a magazine, I would have thought it quite beautiful. I seemed to be in a small natural pool, deep in a lush green forest. Above me an elegant waterfall tumbled down a rock formation, feeding the little pool I waded in. I dared to take a step forward and cried out when something brushed against my leg. Looking down into the water I realized it was a school of tiny, silvery fish darting between my knees.

I almost laughed in spite of myself, just before I felt eyes watching me. Remembering that I was naked I immediately darted into the water up to my shoulders. My eyes scanned the area, but I could see no one. I’d lost count of all the episodes I’d had since they started three months ago, but not once in any of them had I seen a person.

A loud croaking sound from behind nearly made me jump out of the water, despite my nakedness. I turned around and this time I actually did laugh out loud. Sitting comfortably on a rock, along the bank, was a fat green frog eyeing me intently. He let out another loud croak.

“Gees you really scared me little guy,” I laughed.

Ribbit.

I slapped a palm to my forehead.

“Am I really talking to a figment of my imagination?” I asked myself.

The frog blinked a few times. Although I never saw people in my episodes, I did occasionally see animals. But they usually didn’t interact with me, and seemed completely unaware of my presence. This little frog, on the other hand, I wasn’t so sure about.

“I don’t suppose you would happen to know where I am?” I asked him.

Silence. Blink blink.

“I’ll take that as a no,” I muttered. “I’m not even sure you can see me let alone know what I’m saying. It would be nice if my hallucinations could at least conjure up a frog with a sense of direction, but I guess not even my imagination is that good.”

Blink blink. My green friend’s befuddled expression mirrored my thoughts.

“Believe me, I think I’m crazy for talking to a frog too,” I said.

Ribbit.

I snorted. “That got a response out of you…”

Ribbit.

“At least you’re honest,” I shrugged. I looked around again at my strange new setting. The trees were thick here, and seemed to stretch on with no discernable end. Above me, however, I could see bits of fading blue sky beyond the forest canopy.

“You’ve picked a pretty place to hang out, buddy,” I said. “Or rather I made up a pretty place in my brain for you to live. Not sure which at this point…”

Blink blink. He tilted his head and stared at me from an angle.

“You and me, both…” I sighed, then cried out as I felt a stinging sensation in my eye. I rubbed it, but when I pulled my hand away it was covered in white foam. Shampoo suds.

“Ow…” I muttered as I tried to splash it out of my eye. My cry was cut off however as everything began to fade around me. The water level lowered, the trees turned to curtains, and I felt the handrail beneath my fingers again. My little frog friend was the last thing to vanish –his tiny green form morphing into a simple loofa on the bathtub ledge.

I was glad for the tub handrail as my stomach grew queasy and my head spun. Same symptoms every time, as if the deliriums themselves weren’t bad enough. To make matters worse, my eye was still stinging from the shampoo which had apparently started to drip during my episode.

As the last tremors of nausea subsided I dunked my head into the shower spray, desperately trying to rid my eye of the offending soap. Moments later I’d rinsed it off, along with my hair, and I stood gasping as the stream ran cold. So much for a relaxing shower.

How long was I out for? I wondered as I slid to the bathroom floor. I hugged my knees and let the cold stream pelt me from above. Slowly my breathing returned to normal. I had noted before how falling into one my episodes mimicked the feeling of being pulled under water, and how coming out of one felt like the first gasp of breath after holding it for far too long.

I thought of the pills currently nestled in the over-the-sink cabinet of my bathroom. I’d been taking them for about three weeks now, and so far they’d done little more than decrease my appetite. Case in point, this was the third time today I’d had an attack: one at work, one in the car, and one in the shower. A new record.

I was definitely going to call my therapist on Monday.