[Prompt from http://daily-writing.blogspot.com/ . This is part of a year long prompt so it might not make sense in future installments.]
The rest of the day followed that morning. Julie continued to see things that, in all honesty, shouldn’t be there.
Why would a large, black rabbit in a white coat, who sounded suspiciously like Babs, hand out medication? She should be handing out carrots if anything. Or maybe she should be eating all the carrots? No, not a rabbit, then.
Julie hoped the brightly colored pills the rabbit gave her would calm her strange, otherworldly visions, but they seemed to only make matters worse.
The white walls of the hospital swirled in sparking tide pools whenever she walked from her room to the common room. Chairs void of everything save air suddenly grew voice boxes, proclaiming their inner thoughts and desires to the world around them. There was one woman-Lucky? Lily?—whose head was three sizes too big. Another man—Adam? Aaron?—who had two faces! Just like the theatrical masks hanging on Anne’s bedroom wall, one face was always in the midst of weeping while the other was elated almost to the point of bursting.
But walls were solid—they were incapable of swallowing her up. Chairs were just objects and couldn’t think or want much less voice anything at all. Heads came in a variety of shapes and sizes, but never that big, and people could only have one face.
She knew there was something wrong with her, she truly did. Julie just wished it would all go away, that she could simply blink her eyes and the hospital’s stark walls would magically fade into the light beige of her apartment, with her and Anne watching The Big Bang Theory on their brown, lumpy sofa.
Julie even tried to slowly blink, hoping she could will her dreams into reality. But, just like the talking chairs and guy with two faces, she could tell it wasn’t real and couldn’t possibly happen.