As Lewis's psychiatrist I can understand your desire for explanation. As I see it, the trouble began in January, shortly after we convinced your son to seek treatment for substance abuse.
Newly sober, I believe Lewis first noticed the monotony of his daily life. He kept working at the cannery but he withdrew part of himself. In our sessions I saw the same behavior.
His mind began to... wander. I asked him to describe it. He said he started small, imagining a labyrinth. He'd feel his way about. Then something moved... bats. And toads. And things that have not names. He knew it was all in his head, but he took it very seriously. I had hoped he'd find himself. But he found something more.
I worried about him then, daydreaming at the cannery. I spoke with his boss, but he said Lewis had become a model employee. Methodical, tireless, focused... Like a whole new Lewis. So I let him go on. I even encouraged him. It seemed very promising at first.
He told me he'd made a new friend on the edge of a city he named Lewistopia. He built the city up slowly, brick by brick. Then he made musicians and songs for them to play. He talked about starting a band and he was always humming something. Every day his imagination grew stronger. He no longer spoke at the cannery, but his chopping was as reliable as ever. Then one day it struck him that all the cheering crowds, even the stones under his feet were all in his imagination, so he could do whatever he wished. He held an election for a mayor and he won. They begged him to stay but his mind was already wandering.
It became a game for him. He'd conquer a city then immediately push on. He started drifting away from our reality. Until one day he forgot to go home from the cannery. Even as his mother pleaded with him, part of Lewis kept sailing on. In Lewisburg, he heard rumors of a beautiful prince/a handsome queen. The prince/The queen was on his/her own quest for radiant rainbows/sinister serpents. He followed the sound of his/her electric sitar/silver harp. His chase led him to a golden palace east of the sun and west of the moon.
Even then, his logic remained sound. He knew the world was all in his imagination, but he was so proud of having created it. In his own eyes, he'd become something greater than a king. For someone who'd never known success in the real world, I think it was overwhelming. And then it struck him that the real Lewis was not the one chopping salmon, but the one climbing the steps of a golden palace. "My imagination is as real as my body" he told me. It was hard to argue with him.
He began to forget the world we know. I think it pained him to remember Lewis, the cannery worker. He began to despise the man with the royal contempt. I still thought I could save him. Even after he said he was being crowned king over all the lands of Wonder.
The palace would be packed with his companions, including the wise calico who had insisted on advising him. His prince/queen waited, holding his crown. There was only one thing left to do. Bend down his head. And the rest I think you know.
Mrs. Finch, your son was a kind man who will be missed by all of us who knew him.
My sincerest condolences,
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