I have archived all my memories.  That must be it.  The time i have spent in this room must be an interrupted restoration of some type of installation of my dreams.  Like I was mid rewrite and something woke me up.  Now i am coming into and out of these dreams.  They are so peaceful and soothing, i dream of water and soil.  Nothing but calm and cool air.  I know this is a good sign that whatever I am recovering is a good thing, but it seems like the memories may not come back until I can carry the dreams into my waking life and move forward.

I am awake now, and i know that this is real.  I can see the ceiling above me.  I can remember painting the ceilings and walls, even though i can’t remember what holding a paint brush feels like.  Did i use a paint brush?  Did i use a roller.  I don’t think that matters, but at the same time I can’t help but wonder if the details are actually all that do matter.  I feel like i am making a record or a recording of all the things that happened.  I know this isn’t right, but it is the closest i feel to what this feels like.

The other thing that seems more and more odd is the vividness of the dreams, and the clarity of what i remember.  It is like someone zoomed into the moment and focused so clearly there is a blinding quality to what i am seeing.  Like if my eyes could focus farther I could see the individual molecules of matter in the scene.  I remember staring at water reflecting on a brown river.  Even though the water was brown, the water seemed clear and fresh.  I stared at the reflection for so long it seemed like my eyes would go blind from the light.  I stood there and stared.

How can i remember standing if i can’t remember what it feels like to be anywhere than this bed.  If i am here, and also i was there, where am i really?  I know this seems odd, but it is one of the only things in my mind.  Am I here now in this bed, staring at this ceiling, or am I standing by the river, or am I anywhere else.

It can’t be both can it?  Can i be the sum of all those parts.  It seems like maybe this isn’t all that there is, and I need to find a way to live in both places.  Was i reflecting on this bed when i was at the waters edge?  What did i stop when i was interrupted, and what memory was i in the middle of when my dreams were stopped.  I know that can’t be good for anyone trapped in that moment.  Are they stuck, repeating over and over in time.  What would that look like.  I don’t know if that means that they are waiting in that moment for everything to start back up while they stutter back and forth in that final moment before my memory stopped.

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