It is calm to perfection, as I lie there in the hospital bed. Tubes and wires, meaningless, taped onto and poked into me. There is no pain, there is no need for medication. It is just me. I have no permission to leave, and I don’t want permission to leave. Some people probably care immensely about my state, others surprisingly do not—but that doesn’t matter. Nothing matters. I’ve clearly had an emergency of some sort—an accident, a medical issue, something that will matter at another time. The reason why I am here is not relevant at this point. All that matters is the calm.

This is my dream, this is an obsession. I think about this all the time, most often when I am in bed—but my bed, not a hospital bed.

This is my OCD turned upside-down.

Clinically, many with OCD obsess over such things as being hurt, hurting themselves, and all of the terrible eventualities that will come from that. I do it too. I even, with my Pure-O, have compulsions to stop such things from happening. I obsess over house fires, I obsess over the condition of my heart—which in actuality is in fine shape. I have these obsessions.

That rather normal type of OCD is almost just a standard day—or hour, or minute—for me. However, I also have this ongoing obsession along the same lines that projects itself into a dreamy future that—with all the markings of OCD—is felt in the utmost of positive emotion to me. And that is very odd. At least I think it is odd. I don’t read much about this type of OCD.

Can Primarily Obsessional OCD have obsessions that are positive? Is that even right? Just trying to organize it into right and wrong is—to me—a standard construct of OCD. But that does not matter at the moment.

I often find myself dreaming of being in a hospital. I do not feel anything negative in these dreams, and I feel in complete control of both the dream in real life and the realities of what is going on in the dream. In which, of course, I do not feel any pain, angst, or worry.

Oh, and I have been in the hospital for non-mental, physical issues. Serious ones. And during those times this, which I dream, Is not how I feel. But in my dreams, it is all very different.

The hospital is my own island, and I am forced away from all of the anxiety of the real world. I am trapped and I absolutely love it. Because I do have permission—to not think about the real world. I can’t, I am strapped into a much more insular world by an institution of a higher power than my own wants—and thus worries.

I’ve had this obsession—this dream—on a rather constant basis since I was very young. Over my forty-plus years in this world, I’ve only been in the hospital for physical issues a handful of times. I don’t count panic attacks. (And, to save for another story, neither do doctors.)

It is OCD, though the “disorder” part really doesn’t matter to me in these cases. Because this obsession over being in a hospital is absolutely beautiful to me.

I think of why I want to be in this state. Firstly, I clearly have constructed a perfected scenario that is not realistic. Hospitals are not fun, they are not relaxing, and being trapped and not able to do all of my daily rituals is hell. In real life. But those realities don’t exist in this constructed dream.

So why? Attention? This is somewhat possible—I sometimes think of people giving me extra care while in the hospital. However, not often. I am often alone, and I like that. Other people—in real life and in my dream—are a stain of anxiety. Yeah, that’s oversimplifying the concept of relationship and, well, mean. But it has truth to it. So in this dream, I try not to think about others too much.

What I really think is going on is that my brain knows it has OCD, it has this deep-rooted seed from which all thought comes from—obsessive thinking, magical thinking, thinking of unrealistic eventualities. Thus, if that is where thought is going to come from, I damn well should have some positive thoughts at times. Especially when I am actually in bed, away from the world.

A bed is away from the world, a bed is away from anxiety. At least for me, it is. I am one of the most anxious people you will meet, but it rarely extends to my time in bed. In fact, as is not uncommon, I will oversleep when over-pressured with anxiety. I will avoid the world in bed.

Thus, if I am quite literally tied to a bed by a power greater than me, there is a sense that I must feel the antithesis of anxiety. I am forced into the situation I use in daily life to avoid anxiety.

Oh, and it is heavenly!

I’m pretty sure I do not want to be in this situation in real life because I know none of this is how it really works and feels. But my brain is going to continue to obsess over the thought of being hospitalized, and I am going to go with it, to its most ideal.

I am going to play with my upside-down OCD, and I am going to love it.