The Prophet Delusion

“Tyler! It’s time for your appointment with Julie,” shouted Tyler Olsen’s mother from outside his room.

“Alright, I’m coming…” said Tyler. Tyler wasn’t usually too thrilled when it came to appointments with new therapists, but he went anyway. He was always hoping that he could meet someone that would actually help him to make an improvement in his life. When it came to Tyler’s mental health, the claim that there is room for improvement is quite the understatement.

Tyler turned off the television in his room and walked upstairs to meet his mother.

“Now Tyler, I want you to be completely honest with this woman, okay? I’ve heard good things about her and if you would just give it a shot, I’m sure she can help you,” exhorted his mother. She noticed that he didn’t seem to be paying a lot of attention.

“Tyler! Are you listening to me?” said his mother forcefully yet tenderly at the same time.

“Yeah, you said be honest. I’ll be honest,” he said with a sigh in his voice.

“Okay, well let’s go to the car.”

They left the house and went outside to the red Oldsmobile his mother drove. Tyler was only fifteen and not old enough to drive yet. The car ride was mostly silent up until his mother decided to try and carry on a didactic conversation with her only son.

“Now you have to tell this woman everything, okay? Tell her all your thoughts and feelings. That’s the only way she’ll be able to help you. Tyler, I really wish you would pay attention…” she said as she noticed him staring out the window as if he was deaf.

“I’m paying attention. It’s just that we’ve been through this before. My counselors never do any good. They just don’t know what I go through. Nobody understands except God.”

“Well I want you to get better so please just give Julie a shot. Like I said before, I’ve heard a lot of good things about her.”

“I’ll try Mom, I’ll try.”

They eventually pulled into the parking lot of the Department of Human Services office building. Tyler took a deep breath and opened the door. He stepped out of the car into the bright sunshine of a warm late April day.

“Alright, honey, let’s go inside,” said his mother. Tyler remained silent.

They walked inside the building and were greeted by the receptionist. She was a woman that definitely had the librarian look. She wore glasses and had her hair up in a bun. Tyler’s mother approached the desk and told her that they were there to see Julie at two o’clock.

“Okay! Julie we’ll be ready to see you in a few moments! You can just have a seat over there and take a look at some magazines for awhile!” the woman said in a very upbeat fashion.

“Thank you!” said Tyler’s mom.

“I wonder what she’s so happy about…” muttered Tyler to his mother as they walked away.

“Oh Tyler,” she said. His teenage angst always was amusing to her.

They had a seat and Tyler looked over the pamphlets they had available. There were the usual ones he was always used to. They had ones about depression, alcoholism and drug addiction, post-traumatic stress disorder, and bipolar disorder mostly.

“Hey Mom. The day we find one of these that says “Are you completely insane?” is the day I might be able to get some real help,” he said; his voice dripping with sarcasm.

“Oh honey, you’re not completely insane. You have a medical condition,” she assured him.

“How do you know I’m not crazy? I’ve always been me and you’ve always been you. How do you know the difference between crazy and not crazy if you’ve always been normal? You have to know what cold is to know what hot is.”

“I know you’re not crazy because moms just know things okay? So don’t take that existential tone with me young man. I won’t put up with it,” she said. She wasn’t scolding him really; rather just putting him in his place more or less.

“Whatever you say…” Tyler said.

They waited for about fifteen minutes or so when a portly woman with a short, blonde mop of hair came out of one of the offices down the hallway and said, “Tyler?”

“Present,” he said and stood up out of his chair.

“Hi Tyler! Why don’t you come with me back to my office,” Julie said.

“Well, mother, here we part ways for good,” Tyler said in a dramatic, yet comical tone of voice.

“Okay Tyler,” she said and chuckled.

Tyler followed Julie down the hallway to her office. In her office were posters all over the wall; the typical motivational posters you will find in a therapist’s office. There was also a ridiculously messy desk and a few chairs. Tyler had a seat in the one that looked the most comfy.

“Well, it’s so nice to finally meet you Tyler!” said Julie.

“Yeah, well it probably won’t be so nice once we get started here,” he said seriously.

“Why don’t you tell me why that is, Tyler…” she said as she had a seat and opened a file on her computer.

“Well, first I’ll tell you that there is no good news that you can give me,” he stated firmly.

“Why do you think that is?” she said in a routinely sort of way.

“Well because I’m either completely insane or completely fucked. It’s one or the other,” he said. She looked startled at his language (the response Tyler was going for) and then began typing away.

After a few moments she questioned further, “Could you explain this to me?”

“Well, Julie, it’s like this. I am one hundred percent convinced, not ninety-nine point nine repeating percent, but one hundred percent convinced that I am the false prophet from the Book of Revelations in the Bible.”

She typed away and said, “Go on.”

“So if I’m right, I’m fucked, because it says the false prophet will be thrown into the lake of fire and brimstone alive and will burn for all eternity. But if I’m wrong, I obsess day and night over something that is completely insane. So it’s one or the other. I guess it’s pretty sad when the lesser of two evils is being completely insane, ya’ think?”

“I see what you mean. Now tell me why you think you are this false prophet.”

“I think I’m the false prophet because it is just simply too perfect not to be true. It says that the false prophet will come in a Christ-like disguise, and that’s like me. I love Jesus and I go to church and everything. But sometimes I get mad at God and I curse God. Sometimes I say that I hate-love God. I try to say I love God but the word hate always creeps in first like a habit. It’s just too perfect. It’s got even me convinced.”

“I see,” Julie said. She seemed to be intrigued as she typed away. “Why else do you believe this?”

“I have infinite reasons. I obsess about it day and night. With everything I do, my brain seems to find some way of twisting it around and turning it into a delusion. But the thing is, I don’t think it’s a delusion anymore, because I realized if I think it’s true, it becomes true. Like, a lot of times when I’m studying the Bible, I automatically ask myself why I’m studying it and I say to myself, “to destroy Christianity”, and then I immediately take it back. But I still said it. And I know I’m evil. Besides, how many Christian fifteen year olds do you know that have read the “Communist Manifesto”? I understand how the bourgeois is supposed to overthrow the proletariat. I understand all that crap! Kids my age don’t read Karl Marx; they read Harry Potter or some other bullshit. I’m just not normal. I’m too smart for my own good and I read evil things and they fascinate me and I can’t help it!”

Tyler was quite the precocious child.

“Like what kind of evil things do you read?” Julie questioned.

“I read books about Dharmic religions, especially Buddhism. I love Buddhism,” Tyler said.

“Well I wouldn’t particularly say that’s evil. There are a lot of good things in Buddhism. It may not be fully compatible with Christianity, but that doesn’t necessarily mean that it’s evil you know. And secondly, the false prophet is supposed to be someone like the Pope, a big religious leader. The false prophet chooses his destiny. If that is really what you think is going to happen then do something about it. Try eliminating the things that cause the delusion,” said Julie.

“That’s just it! Everything causes me to be delusional. My brain twists everything around until I don’t know my right from my left. You think you know everything just because you have some degree in psychology or something? Well I’ll tell you what, the devil has a masters degree in reverse psychology and he talks to me a whole lot more than you do. He’s got me in a strangle hold! I can’t be good because I think it’s priming me to be a religious leader; I can’t be bad because I’m scared I’ll go to Hell. And I can’t follow the middle path because that’s a Buddhist thing and it’s evil! Do you see! Do you see what I go through! Ugh…”

“I do understand what it is you’re talking about. What I think would be best for you would be to stay out of religion for the most part. You can still go to church, but I wouldn’t recommend becoming too involved. Like don’t pursue a career in religion or anything like that because that is where a lot of the delusion comes from. If you pursue a career that has nothing to do with religion I would imagine that your delusions will cease.”

“But religion is the only thing that interests me in the whole world. It’s the only thing that fascinates me. I’ve always idolized people like Mahatma Gandhi and Mother Theresa and the Dalai Lama and of course Jesus and the Buddha. I want to be good but I know I’m actually bad.”

“Well, I can see that we have a lot of work to do. Now let’s see if we can pinpoint exactly what these delusions stem from.”

They talked for about another forty five minutes. Tyler’s mother was waiting patiently outside in the waiting room when she heard her son starting to shout. She heard him swearing at Julie; she heard him call her a “fat bitch”. That’s when she knew it was all over.

“Oh Tyler, not again…” she sighed quietly.

She got up from her chair and walked down the hallway and knocked on the door.

“Tyler! It’s your mother! Calm down!” she said through the door.

Julie got up out of her chair and came and opened up the door.

“Mrs. Olsen, I’m sorry, but I can’t do anything for your son’s problems if he won’t cooperate with me and control his rude behavior. I think it’s best that we not schedule another appointment, unless he learns to control himself and matures a great deal.”

“I’m so sorry Julie, but,” Tyler’s mom said.

“That’s Mrs. Knickerbocker,” interrupted Julie.

“I’m so sorry, really. Just please give him another shot. I know he’s not very polite but he needs help. He takes his medication but it doesn’t help him with his delusions. He really needs a good therapist and you’re our last shot without searching out of town. Please…” she begged.

“I’ll consider it. We’ll call you if I decide to see your son again,” Julie said.

“Okay. Again, I’m so sorry for his behavior,” she said. “Tyler, let’s go.”

Tyler silently stood up and walked out of the office and followed his mother through the hallway. Mrs. Olsen didn’t look all too thrilled about the situation at this point. They left the building and headed for the car.

“I’m sorry Mom, but,” Tyler began.

“Tyler, I’ve had it with this! I do everything I can to help you get better and you just won’t do anything to help yourself. We’ve been to every therapist and counselor in this town and you’ve ruined it; every time you’ve ruined it. Sorry isn’t going to cut it!”

“Mom, I’m sorry. But she just wouldn’t understand. I mean I tried to explain what my problem is to her but she just wouldn’t get it. I am the false prophet and she wouldn’t believe me,” he said.

“Oh Tyler would you just shut up about the whole thing! You’re not a prophet so just stop it! I’ve had enough!” she shouted as she started up the car.

“I’m sorry Mom. I can’t help who I am…” he said.

“Oh spare me the drama, Tyler,” she said as they drove off.

They drove back to their home in silence. Tyler and his mother both loved each other very much, but because of Tyler’s delusional disorder they frequently argued and lost their tempers. When this would happen they would each just stay in their rooms. It was only the two of them in their small house. Tyler’s father had died when he was only two years old and his mother never remarried. Mrs. Olsen barely got by waitressing at a local restaurant. Being poor was one of the things that Tyler had always felt ashamed of. He dreamed of fame and glory, and he also believed that being the false prophet would give him all those things that he desired.

When they arrived home, Tyler went straight to his room and slammed the door. He lied down on his bed as day turned into dusk. Then he went outside and had a seat on the front porch.

“I just don’t understand, God,” he said. “I do want to be good, but I know who I really am. If there is anything that I can do to stop this, please tell me what it is.”

Then Tyler heard a faint voice saying, “Think about it…”

“What, God!? What can I do to save myself?”

“Think about it,” he heard once more. He had mistaken the voice of Satan for the voice of God.

Then it hit him. He realized what he had to do. It was the only way. The false prophet is necessary for the end of the world to happen. What if there was no false prophet; would the world be saved? Tyler pondered this for several moments.

“I have to send myself to Hell to save the world,” he said. “I know what will happen if I do this; I’ll go to Hell. But at least I’m sending myself to Hell for a good reason. Maybe God will show some compassion on me.”

Somewhere in his mind he knew that that’s what the devil wanted. He got up out of the chair on the deck and went inside. He found his mother watching television. His eyes became a little teary.

“Hey Mom…” Tyler said.

“Yes?” she said.

“Are you still mad at me?” he said.

“No, I’m not mad. It’s just that I do everything I can to help you and you just don’t seem to want to cooperate. Just promise me that if Julie decides to give you a second chance you’ll behave yourself next time.”

“Yeah, but I really doubt there’s going to be a second time,” he said.

“Well, never say never. They might call,” she said hopefully.

“Yeah…” he said. Then he lunged forward and gave her a huge hug. “I’m so sorry mom. I’m sorry for who I am. I’m sorry for what I have to do. I’m just sorry.” He began to sob bitterly.

“Tyler, it’s okay. You’re not evil, I just know. You’ll be okay. Everything’s going to be okay,” she reassured him.

“Well, goodnight mom. I’m going to bed,” he said.

“Okay, honey, goodnight. And be sure to take your medicine before you go to bed” she said.

Tyler went in his room and laid in his bed staring at the ceiling for some time. He got out a piece of paper and wrote down his last words to the world. He was very scared of Hell. But he realized what he had to do was his only way out. It was his only chance. He could only hope that God would show some compassion on him. Eventually he heard his mother go to bed. He waited for about half an hour later and then went out to the kitchen.

He took out his bottles full of pills and a gallon of milk from the refrigerator. He then took a large glass out of the cupboard. He opened the bottles of pills and dumped them all out into one pile onto the table. There were pills of all different sizes, shapes, and colors.

“Here’s number one,” he said as he took his first pill along with a tiny sip of milk. He continued taking the pills until every single one was gone. It took him two and half tall glasses of milk to down every last pill.

He left the note he had written on the table and got up to go lie down on his bed one last time. As he lay there he began to pray in tears.

“God, if I’m doing the wrong thing here, I’m so sorry. I just don’t know what else to do. I know who I am and what would happen if I grow up. There’s no turning back now. I’m scared to death of what you’ll do to me; I just pray you’ll show some compassion on me. In the name of Jesus show some compassion, please. Please, God.”

Tyler then laid there as he slipped into peaceful unconsciousness.

The night passed quickly for Mrs. Olsen who awoke at six thirty in the morning. Her alarm went off and she opened her eyes. She got out of bed and walked into the kitchen to make some coffee. She noticed on the table a piece of paper.

“I apologize to everyone who cared about me for what I’ve done. I had to do it to save the world. Please don’t be sad about me, especially Mom. I’m sorry, everyone.

Tyler”

Then she noticed the empty pill bottles and her heart began to race like never before.

“Tyler,” she said quietly. “Tyler!” she then shouted. She ran to his room and opened the door and found him lying on his bed.

“Oh Tyler! Oh my God, please no. Please, God, no,” she stammered as she rushed over to him. She turned him on his back and shook him trying to wake him.

“Tyler! Wake up, Tyler! Wake up, goddamnit! Tyler!” she shouted at the top of her lungs. She kept shaking him and shouting at him until she was out of breath. She stopped and felt around his nose for any breath. She felt none.

“Oh my God. Tyler,” she said while sobbing uncontrollably. He was all she had left.