I had the rather unpleasant dream that I was committed after being diagnosed with both schizophrenia and dissociative identity disorder.

The dream began after I saw a haggard man who looked like this guy wandering around my backyard. At first my family thought he was just some snoop, but when I saw him right out back in plain sight but my sister didn’t, it became clear I was hallucinating.

In short order, I was brought to a psychiatric hospital, where they assigned me a doctor and started treating me with drugs. The drugs did very little for me, however, and I soon began experiencing perpetual states of altered consciousness; it was what I imagine a bad acid trip to be like, only without the prospect of the trip ever ending. On top of that, I manifested a split personality – a female personality who was incredibly foul-mouthed and violent. Due to these factors, they had me restrained to my bed, though I found ways to wriggle loose.

My attending psychiatrist appeared with two different shapes. First she looked like Rosie O’Donnell (ugh), then she took on the form of a young, pre-short hair Jamie Lee Curtis (much better).