Mental Deception

The mind is a powerful thing. It is, after all, the computer that controls every aspect of our bodies, from our actions to our thoughts to our feelings. I'm often amazed at the power of suggestion.

For example, it never fails that an encounter with an insect might leave one itchy every time one thinks about it. On Saturday, while watching television, I saw movement out of the corner of my eye. I turned and looked at the floor, where a particularly nasty and large brownish black spider with hooked appendages froze in his tracks. He knew, sensed that he'd been spotted. I leaned over on the couch, and the thing darted away with terrifying speed. I ran in the other room, grabbed a handful of napkins, and returned in time to see him run under the cabinet housing my VCR.

Months ago, I'd gotten in an argument with my dad about a shelf he built for my old video cassettes. I didn't ask for a shelf, but he built one anyway. I told him he should have counted my collection, because the shelf was too small. I thought it was settled, but last weekend learned he'd resumed work on the project, varnished it, and needed me to sand it down before putting my tapes on it. So, I conceded after another argument, put what I could fit, and stacked the rest in front of it. It was the perfect hiding place for a ridiculously fast spider.

I moved the new furniture and old tapes with caution, knowing even the slightest movement would send my quarry running. It was hopeless. I knew my cat would probably catch it anyway, but I didn't want to risk the thing being poisonous. I got a flashlight, and shone it behind the television, down to the floor. There, behind my VCR, crouched the beastly arachnid. It poised itself to run, though I couldn't reach it, then darted toward me, scurrying behind my mom's shelf of tapes on the other side of the television. This unit proved easier to move than mine, and I edged it out carefully, not wanting to topple seven feet of shelving. I saw the thing clinging to the back of the furniture, but couldn't reach it.

I looked around. On the kitchen table, I spied a spray bottle. I grabbed it, adjusted the nozzle to a fine stream, and hit the thing with water. Most spiders curl up when soaked. I swear this monster shook his mandibles, then charged across the floor toward me in anger. In my other hand I clutched a napkin, and I brought it down with great force. A single leg stuck out from the side, and as I was about to lift the napkin, I saw the leg twitch. It was still alive. Bracing myself for the unpleasant task, I pressed down with all my weight, hearing the thing snap. I encapsulated the remains, tossed the napkin, then washed the blood and/or venom from the floor.

The mind is a powerful thing. I was itchy just writing that account, and I'm sure reading it prompted a similar response. On Sunday night, I saw a small spider on my computer monitor, a different breed but one I'd encountered before. Once, about 100 must have hatched outside my room, crawled through the screen window at night, and congregated for warmth around my light bulb in the center of my ceiling. Once, I looked up and saw tiny, tiny brown spiders lowering from the ceiling. Reenacting a scene from Arachnophobia definitely qualifies as another exception to my usual “catch and release” policy. So when I saw the same species on my monitor, I was afraid to look up. A glance told the story, and I raced out of the room with my Vanilla Frosty, hand cupped over it to prevent any spiders from getting in my cool treat. Risking brain freeze, I finished my dessert in record time over the kitchen sink, grabbed a napkin, and marched back to my room.

The first to go was the one on my computer. Next, standing on my chair, I put a small fly struggling in a web out of its misery. Then I found another tiny spider. But a funny thing happened then. All the other shadows I had taken for spiders turned out to be nothing, nubs in the sheetrock of my ceiling. My previous experience a few years ago with an invasion had conditioned me, and my eyes saw what my mind expected.

You never know when your mind might deceive you. Sitting at my desk on Monday morning, my right ear popped and there was a brief ringing. For some reason, instead of taking it as a harmless shift in air pressure, I thought about the time I passed out at my desk and nearly died. Granted, that was nearly seven years ago, and the intestinal abnormality that was causing me to bleed to death has long since been removed. But there was a pop and a ringing then too, and though there were no sweats or lightheadedness to accompany this inconsequential symptom, I remembered. I remembered, and felt lightheaded. “You're not going to pass out again.” said a voice in my head, not unlike my own. I held the edges of my desk, shifted my posture, and took a deep breath. It was nothing after all, just more mental deception.

It's amazing how many levels mental deception can work. We can consciously be aware that there isn't a bug crawling on us, or we're not losing consciousness, but our subconscious can work autonomously. Of late, the biggest instance of this phenomena to plague me is cell phone thigh. Maybe it's just my keys shifting in my pocket, but sometimes I think my cellphone is vibrating, and I flip it open to see that no one has in fact called. There are times I'll check my pocket, then realize the phone is on the other side of my room, plugged in to the wall recharging. Phantom sensations are weird. I am so itchy right....hello?