“You can see me. You can hear me. And feel me. Does it feel real? Then it is.”

1625. Shill talks to people that aren’t there. She has lived in Bedlam since she was a child, and spends her days with Robert, the hospital’s keeper, who feeds her with hope – to keep the ever-present hunger at bay. But change is coming, the King wants to revolutionise the hospital and after Bedlam’s first doctor is appointed, plans unfurl to open the hospital doors to the paying public.

2022. Aaron is suicidal. He knows he needs help and plans to admit himself to a local psychiatric treatment facility. His Mum, Tracey, has concerns as people tend to come out worse than they went in. But Aaron is adamant that this is what he needs to get better.

Connected by the thread of their experience, Aaron and Shill meet. Yes, they both know it doesn’t make sense. But somehow, it feels safe. Certainly safer than their reality.

Inspired by true accounts, Bedlam brings together two young people from different centuries whose lives become intertwined in a compelling and deeply affecting story that draws unsettling parallels between past and present. Exploring mental illness and institutional failure, the play poses the uncomfortable question of how far we have really progressed over the past 400 years in our attitudes towards, and treatment of, some of the most vulnerable members of our society.