September 17, 2010
dear clusterflock
I’m fascinated by what we remember from when we were young. My earliest memory is that of my brother being born: not the actual birth, but the sudden appearance of another person in my life. We lived in a flat back then. I remember the concrete flights of stairs and the wire safety glass in the windows. What are your earliest memories?
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Tumbling into a bed midway between a baby’s crib and a regular child’s bed whilst sucking on a sugar cube given me by a waiter at a Greek-American restaurant called The Torch of Acropolis — way out on the western edge of Dallas back in the 1950s.
Inadvertently kicking my sister right between the cheeks in the bath. I vividly recall first the fear of retaliation and then the joyous surprise at her riotous laughter produced by genuine shock.
The smashing of Prince Chickie is another very early memory.
The weird thing is, most of my early memories are in 3rd person.
crib. seeing blue sky through a window. a sensation of falling up
Oh, most of mine are direct and vivid and pretty much pre-verbal!
It’s funny — as I guess some people take me to be a talky person — but in many ways I am not at all verbal. It is almost as though talking was a trick I learned; when I burrow down deep, no words are there.
Spiky shards of yellow plastic — that is so dang eerie that I staged a revival of the smashing of Prince Chickie. I swear it was not in my head when I sat in the road days ago to snap shots of spiky yellow shards.
Squatting on a cement porch out back of the house and looking up to the sky, seeing seven friendly faces.
Huge pink flowers waving like trees in the sun and the wind. A hand with a piece of fruit. I was smiling. There were giants who lifted up the sides of houses and picked up trees and the like.
I confirmed all but the giants when I found a photograph a couple of years ago. I was a baby sitting in a little seat in the yard of our house in Texas, where I was born. I was beside some petunias. Off to the side was a woman’s hand holding out a piece of fruit. I was looking at her and smiling.
The giants have not been confirmed. But if they exist, they would still be in Texas, I think.
I remember being lifted up and carried. Perhaps on Dad’s shoulder? The earth seemed so far away from my usual vantage. Dizzying. But there were strong hands holding me. I remember feeling safe.
I remember what felt like unfriendly forces as well. I remember feeling death in and around our house — looking out my bedroom window at night and seeing bones gleaming in the moonlight — hearing them clattering on our hardwood floors. And it turned out I was not wrong about death — about its presence. But I was probably wrong to fear it.
i apologize in advance:
mother tying a terrycloth bathrobe belt around my ankle; the other end is tied to one of the crib slats. then a whisper – ‘if you get out of that bed there’s snakes on the floor’.
You people had weird parents
We were lucky!
Yeah the unlucky ones weren’t warned about the snakes
less mommy dearest:
i’m sitting halfway up the stairs leading up to my room. at the bottom of the stairs is a beautiful cherrywood, tall spindle-legged 78 record player. caruso is singing from la bohème. i am playing with the lone ranger and his horse silver. while the aria is to the lone ranger’s liking, trigger loathes opera and rears up, throwing the lone ranger over the deadly cliffs. down down down the masked man falls until he disppears behind the black and white console tv that is a large as a piano. even tonto can’t rescue the masked man, he’ll just have to wait until dad gets home. later i had spaghettios for dinner.
Doc, I’m going to see that in my dreams tonight.
the snakes?
; ‘ )
Sheila: that’s assuming you actually fall asleep
The console TV, Doc.
(Assuming I fall asleep, Joel! Actually, I will see the console TV. It is just unlikely I will fall asleep.)
i can’t imagine never sleeping. there are certain states where it’s desirable AND achievable, but there is always a price, a crash and burn. i think the longest i ever stayed ‘awake’ was the first 7 days of a special training course at ft lewis. and even then i’m sure there were points were i was out on my feet, moving, talking, getting the job done but unaware…
sorta like driving through wyoming
That is a good description of how I experience my life: sorta like driving through Wyoming.
No wonder I’m an under-achiever.
The true horror of driving through Wyoming is that, when you’re finally finished, absolutely best case, you’re in Colorado.
One of my earliest memories is actually a dream (at least I hope it was). I was not yet 2 years old, since we were living in the apartment on Reiger. I was looking down a desolate stretch of highway that appeared to have been “tilted” and cracked open by a recent earthquake. About 50 yards down the road, two men were walking side-by-side, a few feet apart. One man was wearing a black suit, and the other a white suit. A bolt of lightning struck the ground between them and I woke up. I remember seeing a storm brewing outside with flashes of lightning illuminating my crib and the sheer pink curtains on the window in my room.
Flannery: did they look like this?
Ha! No, I don’t think so. I didn’t see their faces as they were walking away from me.
I have often wondered what a “Dream Interpreter” would make of such a dream.
What a dream, Flannery. I remember that room very well too. I think you were too little (or sleeping) to notice it, but one morning at dawn we were up with you, and a house being moved went very quietly past the long windows of your room. I remember wondering what you would make of such a sight. Another thing you did notice, a year or so later at the Parkview house, was a chicken sitting on the roof next door. We laughed when you said “There’s a chicken.” But then we looked out and, indeed, there was a chicken on the roof.
My memory is shit at best and over the years I have become confused by what I truly remember from a child and what I have formulated from information I have gleaned from my parents.
My most vivid childhood memory and the one I know is truly mine is during a particularly hot summer (by English standards) I appear to have made myself sick with the sun, I assume a bit of sunstroke. Anyway, I remember looking at the ceiling from my bed and the whole room becoming psychedelic, multi coloured, spinning. Eyes open or eyes closed it was the same. It was the mid 60s.
The odd thing is most years, perhaps once or twice I have flashbacks to that day, those visions suddenly come into my head and usually for several hours I feel sick and the things I saw then I see now. My head spins and the colours and feelings are identical. It’s not happened this year, yet!
[...] Flannery Scroggins: One of my earliest memories is actually a dream (at least I hope it was). I was not yet 2 years old, since we were living in the apartment on Reiger. I was looking down a desolate stretch of highway that appeared to have been “tilted” and cracked open by a recent earthquake. About 50 yards down the road, two men were walking side-by-side, a few feet apart. One man was wearing a black suit, and the other a white suit. A bolt of lightning struck the ground between them and I woke up. I remember seeing a storm brewing outside with flashes of lightning illuminating my crib and the sheer pink curtains on the window in my room. posted by Deron Bauman in dreams, from the comments, memory | * | comment [...]
My strongest and earliest memories are of things that never happened. Flying from the roof of the house and such.