I woke myself from a deep sound sleep by speaking aloud. “I don’t know how you do it. If I had to remember in detail every moment of my life without the veil of time erasing the most painful ones, I simply couldn’t bear it.”
I was in a different time & place. I was watching two old friends comparing scars. Their dialogue took place in a visual display over the center of the table. It was as if they each could ‘see’ the other one’s thoughts. I felt like a visual eavesdropper.
There was a quick moment where the one on the left had a scar on his forehead that had been repaired so it didn’t show on the surface. Yet, the memory of it’s inception was there in technicolor video.. There was a quick jump in the vision to the one on the right showing a deep gash repair on his left thumb. In the gap, the jump was like what old fashioned clocks with hands used to make if you watched them without moving your eyes away. I missed something. I asked to see what it was.
I was no longer an eavesdropper but a participant.
I walked up to the one on the left & bent toward him since he whispered & I couldn’t hear what he said. He grasped both sides of my head & pulled me forward so that our foreheads touched. They were able to communicate with each other without the physical contact.
When our foreheads met, I was jolted into a brutal scene. He was on the outside of screened room observing his fiance before going into the house. A young thug burst into the room, amped up full of jumpy anger & literally frothing at the mouth. He held his gun turned sideways in the ineffectual manner glorified in films for television. He put the fiance in a chokehold & then brutally raped her before my friend could get inside the building. My friend was attempting to break through the window with his forehead. The thin but strong glass screen had metal threads in it. I saw the ripping of the screen, the ripping of his flesh & the agony he felt because he had been unable to protect her.
I also saw the aftermath where she sat zombie-like & there was no way he could comfort her. When he had attempted to touch her shoulder, she flinched away & gave him the thousand yard stare of those who had been broken. She silently rose & walked out of the room without a backward glance.
He released me & the vision stopped. However, it did not leave my mind. It was as if my synapses had been scarred by his memory. It was not tolerable. It was beyond painful.
That was where I woke myself by speaking the sentence with which I started this. I had always loved fog. Even tolerated driving in it. I felt that fog was like the planet receiving an embrace. I had to rethink my fondness of fog at an emotional level. I realized that the shroud of fog erasing memories was a gift, not a curse.