Remembering

And forgetting

Childhood memories kept flashing through his mind throughout the day. It had been going on for almost a week now. Trent did not understand what was going on. Why were all these memories suddenly popping up? He had not thought of most of them in years. Why was he now being flooded by them?

Was something momentous about to occur? He had heard about going through a full life review after dying. Was he somehow going through one just before dying? And why would he be dying? He was still young and life had been rather pleasant as of late. It was like every memory flash was a review of a lifetime about to end. Trent was soon filled with unease.

The memory flashes came out of the blue and did not seem to have any connection with the present. There was no theme or order to them. One moment he would remember riding his bicycle to the library as a little boy. Twenty minutes later a memory would pop up of him writing a poem while sitting under a tree in a park while in college. Later he would relive that time he stood at the railing of that bridge in the town he used to live in. For a long time he just stared down at the river flowing under him.

It was like the vault in his brain where all the memories are stored broke open and the memories were gushing out. He was inundated and could barely focus on the present world around him.

He decided that he could not fight it anymore. Looking around him, he saw that he was in some sort of lobby; perhaps a hotel lobby or office building. Seeing a couch he sat down at one end of the couch and surrendered to the flood of memories. He quickly became unaware of his surrounding.

He could only see his memories which came one after another after another. None of the people in his life were in the memories. It was just things or scenes he had intently looked at during his life. He saw the turtle that he had stared at down by the pond when he was seven years old. He saw the blooming apricot tree that he stared at when he was in his thirties. He stared at the barge slowly flowing down the river that he had stared at while in high school. He re-stared at that skyscraper that he was about to enter when he was 27. He re-stared at that landscape painting he had stared at while in a museum when he was 43. He saw the empty parking lot he once stared at. He saw that rusted out caboose. The oil pump-jack moving back and forth. That pile of dirty dishes. The broken chair. The spinning merry-go-round. The horse standing motionless in the pasture. Not even its tail was moving.

It seemed that everything he had ever looked at he was looking at again.

Suddenly he felt a hand shaking his shoulder.

Then he heard a female voice; “He’s been sitting there for around six hours. It’s like he’s hypnotized or something. He hasn’t moved and he doesn’t react to voices or even waving my hand in front of his face.”

“Sir,” it was a male voice. “Sir! Can you hear me? Are you okay? How can we help you? Why are you sitting here?”

The memories subsided just barely enough for Trent to turn his head and see a man wearing white clothes. Then another hand was grabbing his other shoulder. He turned his head slightly to see another man in white clothing. Before he knew it he was being pulled up on his feet and then the men hoisted him onto a gurney. As he was being moved he also spotted a black man in a police uniform. Behind the police officer was a crowd of people.

Now all he could see was ceiling. He was not sure if it was a memory or real. Then he was outside. He could not see the stars, though, because of the intensely bright flashing lights of the ambulance.

Those lights were the last thing he remembered and they were also the one thing he would never forget.

Copyright by White Feather. All Rights Reserved. This is a work of fiction.