by Arnold Snyder
My first wife, June, was schizophrenic, or so I’ve since surmised. I don’t know that she’d ever been officially diagnosed as schizophrenic, but I knew that she’d been diagnosed as something and I’m guessing it was schizophrenia. Three nights after we met, she called me at my dorm in the middle of the night—woke me up—because she was seeing green men outside her window. I talked to her for a couple hours, until the green men had disappeared. Then I went back to bed but couldn’t sleep. This was in 1966, at Western Michigan University in Kalamazoo. We were both eighteen, though I was an incoming freshman and she was a returning sophomore. Continue reading Finding God on LSD (A Short Story About Schizophrenia)