Dream-like Memories

You know those memories that are so long past that they seem dream like and unreal?  I over think them and it makes me crazy not knowing if they happened or if I dreamed it.  I have so many memories from my childhood that I don’t exactly remember because perhaps they were too far back.  They were all before I was five years old.1

I know that when I was four and my brother was one year old we went to Chicago with my mom, her best friend, Peggy, and her children, Jordan (my best friend), Maimi (who was a year younger than us), and Annie (my brother, Tristan’s, age).  I remember so little of the trip, it all seems like it was never true.  I remember so little of that trip, it all seems like it was never true, as if I dreamed it or made it up.  I remember for sure that we stopped to visit my grandparents in Windsor.  And I know rather than remember that Mom lost her purse.  But other than that what I’ve been told, I can remember very little of what I actually experienced.2

Recently things have been coming back to me as snapshot images and mind home videos that I don’t have proof or real recollection or ever happening.  I just know that they did.  I remember a house.  We stayed there for one night.  It was so big and it was in the country.  In the morning we watched a movie with a huge man and tiny people.  I used to dream about it, but even though I knew it was real, I never knew how this strange house got into my mind.3

I have had this memory for forever, but only recently have I been able to place it.  I asked my mom about it.  She said it was Peggy’s sister’s house.  And I assume that the movie we watched must have been Gulliver’s Travels.  It seems bizarre that something I was so sure of, but concluded as a dream for most of my life, was actually real.4

I remember the hotel we stayed in.  It was very big and expensive.  The seven of us (yes, SEVEN) shared one room.  Since all of the kids were under five, we didn’t take up much space.  When I was younger I told my friends stories about this because Jordan was with me and it was a good story if it had us sleeping in thee same bed.  Not that that really counted considering we were only four years old.  I find it ironic that I told people about something I couldn’t even remember, was only told about.5

This came back to me so recently.  It’s a story I’ve always told, but have never known about first hand.  I don’t understand why I suddenly, after ten years, remember what happened.6

The thing is, with some stuff, I thought I remembered, but the harder I tried to bring more of it back, more slipped away.  Like when you’re trying to remember a dream.  So I figured that they were dreams, and they kept fading away.  Something you know is so clear and real a moment ago, goes foggy and is eventually lost.  Like trying to hold sand.7

But why am I remembering now?  I don’t think I repressed it or anything.  Why did something that has been a reoccurring dream suddenly come into focus?8