A piece of dry ice in a rain puddle behind a store. The water bubbling from it. It was cold, maybe in the 40s, overcast, a gray day. I was 4.Sitting on the floor in my bedroom. Green linoleum. I stick a knife (tableware, dull) into the socket in front of me. The feeling is odd but not painful. A vibration; intense, warm. I think I was 4.
Petting a goat behind a small lunch counter/deli down the street from my father's bike shop. It was fall, I think I was 5. It was sunny. I have no idea why they had a goat.
Large goldfish frozen in a fishpond in front of a house. Winter, of course, maybe in January. I was perhaps 6.Drops of blood spattering up the wall and blinds on the window in the kitchen when I shook my hand after slicing my finger. I think I was 6. It was spring, cool but sunny outside. I was home alone after school.
Getting kicked out of the movie theater for pelting the screen with pea shooters. There were two us, I think it was the youngest of the Joyce kids. I was 7.
Coming out of the drugstore on Main St. after spending a long time reading the comics on the rack and finding myself completely unfamiliar with my surroundings. Disoriented. I was 8. It was sunny but it felt cloudy, the sky seemed an odd color, I was unsure which way to turn to go home. I later equated it to a Twilight Zone experience. It was the first time it happened, it's happened many times since. Almost always after concentrating on something close at hand for an extended period time.
The above are some memories that pop up in my mind, unbidden. In fact, while I was writing this, I tried to conjure up more (because there are many) but I couldn't. These memories are involuntary. Like a muscle twitch, a little tic in the eyebrow. But very real. More than just a picture in my mind, the sense of being there is very strong.
Brain spasms.
5 comments:
I have things like that, muscle spasms of the brain...
Maybe I should catch some of that and blog it, never gave it much thought, just sort of thought of them as nagging memories.
AV
http://netherregionoftheearthii.blogspot.com/
http://tomusarcanum.blogspot.com/
http://thingsthatfizz.blogspot.com/
Three years ago, in geography class, I found ink on my eraser. I tried to rub it off, but figured it would be faster if I used my Swiss knife to just chop it off. I managed to, instead, slice off a chunk of flesh off my middle finger. It bled all over the floor, I quickly instructed my friend next to me to put my books in my bag and my bag in my locker, and I asked the teacher calmly, "May I go to the nurse's, please? I'm not feeling too well."
I went to the nurse's, then the hospital, and gosh, I've only had four stitches in my life thanks to that finger, but damn, that was scary. How's your finger?
Michael.
Oh, and the teachers thought I cut myself on purpose because they knew I had been expelled from school and my parents were divorced.
The fact that my Swiss knife was engraved with "Life is a bitch." didn't help the misunderstanding.
Michael.
AV - the truly odd things is that these memories pop up without any connection to anything going on outside your brain (or even in it). Just completely out of the blue.
Michael - I was going to commiserate with you but "Life is a bitch"?
My finger is fine, except for the scar. No stitches that time. Or the time I stabbed my left index finger with a chisel.
I have things like that, muscle spasms of the brain...
Maybe I should catch some of that and blog it, never gave it much thought, just sort of thought of them as nagging memories.
AV
http://netherregionoftheearthii.blogspot.com/
http://tomusarcanum.blogspot.com/
http://thingsthatfizz.blogspot.com/
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