5. Practical Illusion

“The 'cold weather mirage'  or “Fanta Morgana” occurs when a cold weather front collides with warmer air and causes light passing between the boundary of the two to be bent dramatically, distorting how and where an object appears.”

Dr. Peterson looked up from her copy of the hand-out sheet her class of twenty-seven referenced on their desks.

“You may think this is an odd segue to start with in a lecture on depression,” she said to them. “As you can see from the photograph on the sheet, a sailing ship appears to be floating above the horizon. Ancient peoples believed they witnessed witchcraft, or were not in control of their senses. This picture shows a ship actually beyond view behind the horizon. Its image was in effect reflected a distance away and made visible to people on shore.”

Her students shifted slightly in their seats as they bent to take notes. Hers was a seminar in which lap tops and cell phones were uninvited. Many teachers on campus also followed this rule.

“We discussed last class my favorite definition of depression, too sharp a focus on reality. What should be balanced with too much truth?”

Rob Fenton raised his hand and said, “A good dose of sweeeeet illusion!”

“We’re not talking about dementia patients who are lucky enough to be pleasantly deluded,” said Dr. Peterson to their scattered laughs. “That’s another class. Healthy illusion, or a good, regularly exercised imagination is what’s required.”

“The reason I brought Fanta Morgana to your attention today is that sometimes, when treating a patient with unshakeable suffering from a dark view of his or her life, a turning point can be achieved to draw perspective toward the light. Sometimes, what you need is a small miracle to do it.”

Dr. Peterson observed many pairs of eyes leaving their books to gauge her sincerity.

            “Several years ago I had a patient I’ll call Jeff who felt defeated by life. I won’t go into details, but his was mostly circumstantial depression overlaying a tendency toward melancholy. He took the first step. He came for treatment because he no longer wanted to feel this way.”

            “We went through the usual course of intervention: how the brain works, his particular depressive style, methods to mitigate intensity of mental and emotional pain, alterations in self-talk about his life, and so on. But he couldn’t shake his misery.”

            “Now I posit that each person needs to vocalize their pain until they’re finished, and that a patient needs to hear the same information over and over, each time explained in a different way, until the right version is found. Jeff experienced all of this and got nowhere.”

            “How long was he in therapy?” asked Phila Racene in the second row.

            “Eight months. We’d made no significant breakthroughs. Even I started to pray for guidance. I wasn’t sure what to do next.”

            “Any meds?” asked Linda Faraday.

            “Trialization with a doctor had been ineffective. His deep depression was like an old familiar demon whom he could not escape. Until the incident.”

            “Jeff was at the beach on a calm day, taking time from his lunch hour to clear his head from numbers and spread sheets. There was a fair-sized crowd enjoying the sea air with him. A shout nearby made him look toward the ocean. A figure was positioned above the water, one hand raised to shield his eyes. They all saw it. He said everyone was awe-struck, not knowing what to make of it.”

            “He told me all about it at our next appointment. Some swore it was an alien, others believed it was an angel. They observed this phenomenon for a good five minutes. Then it vanished. Jeff said they were all wrong. And I could see the transformation in his expression as he told me that he knew it was in fact his father, long gone, coming to look for him.”

            The breathing of the students was audible as Dr. Peterson continued, “Jeff’s father had been lost at sea in a past war. Jeff never gave up hoping that he’d survived and would come back. He deemed the figure was his dad searching for him to give him a message. He said it was just one word.”

            Dr. Peterson paused. No flippant remark filled the silence. They waited.

            “Courage. That’s what he believed his father said to him.” Dr. Peterson grinned. “I didn’t have the heart to tell him that they had witnessed a type of mirage called Fanta Morgana. He found the illusion that he needed to balance out his view of his life. He made rapid progress from there on in.”

            Dr. Peterson leaned against her desk. “I use this case to support my contention that each patient actually knows what is needed. We serve as guides to help them find it. The theories and treatments are not all there is to healing. Sometimes it takes a little magic too.”

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