Sail Away

In their minds– No, in my mind–

No. I have to start again.

My name is Yanny. I try to read but most days I just sit and look out my window. I guess that's what most of the people here do.

I live– We all live in Bedlam. Or Bedlam Royal Hospital.

“Bethlem. Bethlem Royal Hospital. Those visitors are mispronouncing it! It’s not our fault those damn monks couldn’t spell Bethlehem!” Nurse Alberts always says.

But I can read. A nurse taught me a long time ago. I can’t remember her name. Can’t remember how I came here first either.

When I was just a wee one, well, I was bad. Very bad. I know that now. I would yell a lot. At least, that's what the nurses tell me. Things never seem to sort out the same way when I do them. I see the nurses walk right up to someone and they just start talking or helping or talking and helping all at the same time. I can scarcely imagine how they do that. I get confused sometimes when things keep happening like nobody else does.

Dr. Ruskovich tells me I can calm the storm within.

That's what they– what she says. But I'm not sure what she’s on about.

Ms. Ruskovich is an alienist and that means she helps people like me. The folks who became aliens in our own bodies, like. Sort of.

She wears two little windows on sticks on her face. I don't know what for. She comes around once a week. I like her.

Last week, we talked about things I think and things I see. There was a man in the hallway the day before but then he wasn’t suddenly.

"People just like you have been getting helped here since the 1300s, you know."

She looked at me with wide eyes behind her little windows on sticks.

"That was a very, very long time ago."

"People just like you– like me?"

"Yes. People who need help have been brought here for five-hundred years. And very possibly, they still will. For another five-hundred years. Or more."

This made me wonder about all those people confused and sad like me with just the window. People before for so long. And people after. This made me sad so I didn’t say anything else then.

"Yanny, I'd like to do something a bit different with you this time. I've read a book about something they do in the Orient. You relax, close your eyes, and you listen to me and I tell you to imagine the things I describe. Make yourself see them just in your mind. Same as like when you read something in a book. Can you do that for me?"

"Just... in my mind?"

"Yes, can you imagine a cutter? Like out on the river in the summertime?"

I didn't answer her at first because I didn't understand. But I tried.

"Out your window, on the Thames? Those little boats? With the big white sails? I know you like looking out there. You're friendly with Mr. Green River and Mr. Blue Sky, aren't you? You can imagine Mr. Green River longer and longer until you can’t see the end of him anymore, can’t you? A whole sea of water. And the single tiny sailboat where Mr. Green River and Mr. Blue Sky meet?"

No, I have to start again.

My name is Yanny. In my cell, here at Bethlem Royal Hospital, there isn’t much to do. So I look out my window. The last alienist, Dr. Browning, he asked me lots of questions about what I would say to Mr. Blue Sky and Mr. Green River out my window if I could meet them.

This seemed daft to me. At first. I could tell the sky and the river weren’t people. But he helped me imagine conversations before they happen. He helped me talk rightly to people. This was years ago. I told Ms. Ruskovich– Dr. Ruskovich about this.

Dr. Ruskovich came around again today. She asked me more questions about what I saw and what we talked about last week.

"Don't you want to walk out past Bethlem gate? By yourself? Free and healthy?"

I didn't answer.

"Yanny, don't you want to really meet Mr. Blue Sky? Not just look at him through the bars there?"

So I said: "Yes."

But I don’t know how. She says they lack the focus. No, no. I, she says I lack the focus. I still yell at Nurse Alberts sometimes.

I see what they want me to see but I still see other things too. They can't help me. Not these lot. Not me. Not now.