Archive for drugs

A Drug to erase memories…

Posted in Science with tags , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , on March 4, 2014 by Mj Rains

drug to erase memories Tumblr picFound this little picture on Tumblr the other day and cannot resist thinking about it still… I would absolutely love to erase some memories, perhaps all of high school, and a few years after that as well, when I think this Wit’s brain malfunctioned because of the men she was with…but I digress…

Mainly this sci-fi-like drug was successfully tested on rats and mice by the Scripps Research Institute in Florida… (One has to wonder how researchers could know, like, did the rats forget they were rats or something?)… This drugs purpose is to help recovering addicts, human addicts that is, and people suffering from post-traumatic stress disorder.

But dare we have hope for the Eternal sunshine of the spotless mind?–can those who suffer turmoil caused by, let’s say, a past relationship, have hope to expurge the memory of this certain regrettable time?

Like I said, I have a few relationships I’d like to forget, a few years I’d like to erase. Who wouldn’t?

Ruth tells my mother about her hallucinations…

Posted in Esoteric, When it RAINs with tags , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , on October 6, 2010 by Mj Rains

I may be at my wit’s end for I have diligently working on blogs, writing short stories, revising a novel, drawing some new illustrations, and taking the Gotham Writer’s Workshop online fiction course. October is rocking people!

But I’ve just felt the need to share this strange yet true story. My mother’s neighbor is a lovely lady named Ruth, 91 years old now, who still lives on her own. My mom stops by occasionally to check in on her, bring her some lunch, or a piece of pie she’s made. They sit and talk, for Ruth is alone most of the time…well, sort of.  My mother was amazed to hear about the visions the older woman has been having. Now, one thing must be made clear here before I go on; Ruth is taking some pretty strong meds, including, uh, a morphine patch.  But her delicacy in sharing what she is seeing, and her renowned sense of what is true for her makes this Wit wonder…

Ruth tell my mother that her husband, dead for 18 years is upstairs. He came the night before, with a nurse, and Ruth was relieved. Ruth asked them what they were doing here. Her husband said he was going upstairs. Ruth told the nurse that she better stay and take care of her husband, because she couldn’t anymore since she was in bad shape herself. They went upstairs to her husband’s old room, and Ruth saw them later that night, the nurse taking her old husband to the bathroom.  This was all clear to her, she could see them plain as day, and she was awake, not dreaming.

She tells my mom about the radio station that perpetually plays in her head. She hears the songs, some oldies, and the radio announcer talking, pretty much all the time. This part, flicks on a little light in my head…where have I heard of this happening before??

Then, the other day, when my mom stopped in (she brought Ruth some left over dinner and slice of cake) Ruth told my mother that a woman was walking up the staircase. My mom, of course, got up to check, went upstairs, but no one was there. When she came back down, Ruth understood that Mom couldn’t see the woman, but insisted she could. “That’s nothing,” Ruth said. “There are two guys in the hallway over there trying to open a box. It’s a pretty big box. They’re having a hard time.”  There were no men. There was no box. Then she tells my mother that there were some kids sitting on her couch. “You can see them right now?” my mom asks. “Yes, of course,” Ruth says. They weren’t bothering her in the least.

I’m sure I don’t have to explain, my mother was a bit freaked out. We started talking about the possibility of Ruth maybe seeing dead people, ghosts, something supernatural. I haven’t looked it up, but I’m sure there are side effects to the medications the older woman is taking. Still, the story stops me in my tracts. I’m working on converting this into a short flash fiction piece for my writing class. I always love a good, creepy story.  A true one is sometimes stranger than fiction….

More later….

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