Fragmented Life

As a continuation from my last blog...my life is not without blots of ink. I can surely remember events that took place before reading The Catcher in the Rye. For example the time I jumped down an entire flight of stairs after waking up from a recurring nightmare of mine or the time I freaked out when I let a bird into the house. These major events have permanently imprinted themselves in my brain. Not only were they riveting moments, but I also spent a lot of time thinking about them afterward: the act of memorization. Everything following or preceding these events though are more or less a blur.

It is interesting though because unless you have some way to confirm these memories, they may not have happened at all. They may have just been dreams you had that you have convinced yourself took place in real life. I think the brain has a reduced ability to distinguish dream from reality of events that occurred years prior. I remember reading an old diary several months ago and being yet again surprised at the contents. I was reading something I swear I had dreamed instead of actually experiencing. Unfortunately I have no way of confirming any of it. It's not all that important to me to confirm my past though. Dreams, reality... they both are playing a part in who I am, so why does it matter that I sometimes can't tell the difference.

After descending from the attic of old memories with a load of junk, I joined my family for dinner and explained to them why I was up there for so long. My mother then shared with me that one of her patients at work experiences short-term memory loss. Sure enough, that's exactly what I dreamt about that night. Although it wasn't inherently scary, I'd consider it a nightmare - as it is one of my greatest fears. It was an extremely fragmented dream. I would experience something and black out shortly thereafter, and almost as if waking up from a dream I would open my eyes and realize something just happened but not remembering what. This would go indefinitely until I actually woke up for real. This is exactly what happened with my book, I remember that I read it and I believe that I even liked it, but I have no idea what it's about. That's the scary part: remembering you forgot something. It's pretty incredible what your mind can fabricate while dreaming and its ability to cast the experience into oblivion.

Coming to the realization that life is both fragmented and fleeting, I can find comfort my own ability to both grasp and maintain the sense of me, regardless of where it came from. Pen in hand, inherent fear and all, I will let the ink run its course.