Here is something that will give you an idea what P.T.S.D. [Post Traumatic Stress Disorder] is like.
Let's say you've gone to see the movie "Platoon," the better to understand the Viet Nam experience from the participant's point of view.
This particular theater is equipped to do just that.
Sometime, during the film...you find that clamps have appeared to bind your hands and feet to the chair you are sitting in. The seat cushion has been replaced by a claymore mine. The theater's air ducts now start pumping in very warm moist air. You notice with some alarm that the claymore's detonator is dangling in front of the air duct. The plunger is pushed but one of the wires carrying the electrical charge which will detonate the mine is frayed. The wire may or may not make contact depending on the whim of the airflow from the duct. In the flickering light of the screen, you catch glimpses of your fellow patrons...and they are as concerned as you are. Other occupied seats begin to detonate one or two at a time.
As you notice that the theater's doors are now locked, it becomes apparant that the film is now an endless loop. You try to engage another patron in conversation, but he seems strangely preoccupied. You mention existential philosophy, he screams f**ck off. Another chair detonates.
You will remain a guest of the theater for another 364 days...more or less...depending on circumstances. How will you feel at the end of the first day...the 45th...the 190th?