I mentioned in an earlier post about some of my little fantasies. How I acted out my fantasy of being a great hockey player in my back garden and on my old Bobby Hull Hockey Game. (Note, this was long before the computer age, Bobby Hull Hockey was one of those ancient games where you got the players to move by moving and turning a metal rod.) Again, I digress. There was also the basketball games in the living room, when my parents were out, where an entire league had sprung up in my mind.
In the last post, I introduced you to Melvin who is considerably high on the Autistic Spectrum. When I first met him, he used to tell me how he was going to get wire cutters and cut the stereo speaker wires of another service user. He still says this but now his story has evolved into him kicking this poor other fellow’s stereo into a volcano, throwing it into the sea or using it as fuel for a steam train or the Titanic. He also asks what Hulk Hogan would think if he cut this guy’s wires or threw his stereo down a volcano. Melvin has other fantasy stories too. One involves his love for actresses from the 1930s era and is now so complex that it crosses over to include some of his other interests like old mansions and Siamese cats.
I have realised that the fantasies I had in my youth were just as real to me as Melvin’s are to him. And like Melvin, mine too evolved. My first season, my ice hockey team only won the league championship. The second year, they not only won the league championship but went on to be National Champions. In fact, an entire chapter in “He Was Weird” is devoted to the National Championship Final. Like me, Mark scored two goals and assisted on two others including the game winner. Throughout my childhood, I was often told off for letting my imagination run away with me and often said things that had no logical basis with anyone except me, just like Melvin does. That is probably why I get along so well with him.
In conclusion, I am saying that, just like the issues with frustration, Melvin and me aren’t worlds apart in regards to illogic and fantasy. The main difference is that I have, through painful trial and error, learned to keep a lid on mine and adjust better to social settings. Writing “He Was Weird” was my way of getting those fantasies to the forefront and let people know that with people who have Asperger’s Syndrome, it isn’t always easy to pull out of the fantasy world. Especially when the bullying is so bad you have no other means of escape.
Next post: Part III