Bizarre Dreams Of Memory And Fabrication

I had the weirdest dream last night . . . and now I have a rather weird headache concerning it . . .

In it (and this was one of those which was decidedly realistic), I had found this girl who was a few years older than me. She sort of reminded me of Tina from the Japan trip, only she was blond (randomly). Anyway, she showed up at our house (my house at home, etc, etc . . . ), just sort of wandering around, and I asked her what was going on. She said that she used to live here, until she ran away-- when she was about five years old, which is when I most certainly was also living in the house. So she explained to me that she knew who I was, but that I certainly couldn't possibly remember, but that we were long-lost sisters, and that no attempt had been made to find her, and she hadn't wanted that anyway-- but now she was back just to see what was up.

So then there came the really trippy part that made my head hurt. As the girl in the dream talked, about her explanation for why and how she had left, and to prove to me that she really was, indeed, my sister, I saw a bunch of my own old memories of when I was a small child (which I knew to be real, true memories in the dream, and know to be memories now) streaming over my eyes, and, this time, I could suddenly *see* the random blond girl a couple years older than me in the background. She was never actually playing with me (which makes the whole thing seem suspect, but, well, this was a dream . . . ), but she was always there (I guess it fit, though, because she was an extremely mellow, serious thing . . . maybe she just didn't *play,* even as a child . . . Most bizarre was the memory of when she actually ran away-- which was the most clearly fabricated of the memories, obviously-- which involved an old babysitter of mine actually defending her leaving. So, naturally, in the dream, I believed that I actually had this random long-lost sister, backed up by fabricated memories and weird "truths," like the knowledge that my mother had had a miscarriage before I was born-- and that, in the dream, it was justified by being the birth of that girl, forever cut out of memory by the label "miscarriage" after she left . . .

The only part that really doesn't make any sense is why a five-year-old would run away, no contest, and be defended by the babysitter-- especially when Tory and I weren't insisted on being taken out, too. Lol, we probably had one of the most un-abusive childhoods in the history of the world, and so that doesn't make any sense, either . . .

Silly malcontent non-existant five-year-old . . .

I wonder if this says something about the fabrication of memories? Will I forever now see that random nonexistant girl in my memories? They say that dreams may play a role in memory formation, lol . . .

Hmm . . . if there were a little more drama, the story (not really the dream part), might actually be an interesting plot for a book . . . the memories of children are supposedly so malleable, and they'll believe what they're told, and sincerely, if they're told by someone they trust enough . . .

Whoosh . . . mixing memories and dreams gives your head a hangover . . .

Bizarre Dreams Of Memory And Fabrication

I had the weirdest dream last night . . . and now I have a rather weird headache concerning it . . .

In it (and this was one of those which was decidedly realistic), I had found this girl who was a few years older than me. She sort of reminded me of Tina from the Japan trip, only she was blond (randomly). Anyway, she showed up at our house (my house at home, etc, etc . . . ), just sort of wandering around, and I asked her what was going on. She said that she used to live here, until she ran away-- when she was about five years old, which is when I most certainly was also living in the house. So she explained to me that she knew who I was, but that I certainly couldn't possibly remember, but that we were long-lost sisters, and that no attempt had been made to find her, and she hadn't wanted that anyway-- but now she was back just to see what was up.

So then there came the really trippy part that made my head hurt. As the girl in the dream talked, about her explanation for why and how she had left, and to prove to me that she really was, indeed, my sister, I saw a bunch of my own old memories of when I was a small child (which I knew to be real, true memories in the dream, and know to be memories now) streaming over my eyes, and, this time, I could suddenly *see* the random blond girl a couple years older than me in the background. She was never actually playing with me (which makes the whole thing seem suspect, but, well, this was a dream . . . ), but she was always there (I guess it fit, though, because she was an extremely mellow, serious thing . . . maybe she just didn't *play,* even as a child . . . Most bizarre was the memory of when she actually ran away-- which was the most clearly fabricated of the memories, obviously-- which involved an old babysitter of mine actually defending her leaving. So, naturally, in the dream, I believed that I actually had this random long-lost sister, backed up by fabricated memories and weird "truths," like the knowledge that my mother had had a miscarriage before I was born-- and that, in the dream, it was justified by being the birth of that girl, forever cut out of memory by the label "miscarriage" after she left . . .

The only part that really doesn't make any sense is why a five-year-old would run away, no contest, and be defended by the babysitter-- especially when Tory and I weren't insisted on being taken out, too. Lol, we probably had one of the most un-abusive childhoods in the history of the world, and so that doesn't make any sense, either . . .

Silly malcontent non-existant five-year-old . . .

I wonder if this says something about the fabrication of memories? Will I forever now see that random nonexistant girl in my memories? They say that dreams may play a role in memory formation, lol . . .

Hmm . . . if there were a little more drama, the story (not really the dream part), might actually be an interesting plot for a book . . . the memories of children are supposedly so malleable, and they'll believe what they're told, and sincerely, if they're told by someone they trust enough . . .

Whoosh . . . mixing memories and dreams gives your head a hangover . . .

Oh, Hegel . . .

I was very inspired by Introduction to Political Theory II class today . . .

I really wasn't understanding the reading (Hegel is, if possible, even more wordy, verbose, and harder to plow through than me, lol . . . ), but it all makes sense now after class, and, well-- I got out a piece of paper and starting drawing random pictures that had to do with the subject material, and that's always a sign that I'm inspired (when I doodle in the margins and then erase it, that's when I'm bored, lol . . . ).

It was a refreshing set of ideas, and, even if it's too soon to tell (and probably too optimistic-- as that happens quite rarely) if Hegel and I are mind-mates, I like the way he thinks. It turns out the mass of verbiage was about the course of history, and the laws acting upon it. It's against Materialism (ahh, so refreshing-- I'm so glad we've moved out of that in Philosophy)-- it was pretty funny, actually; he asked if anyone knew what Materialism was, and I threw up my hand and explained it, and then was like *curls up* "Ack, it drives me crazy!" and he gave me this funny look and was like, "A lot of people are Materialists," and I was like, "Oh, I know," and then *glarethinks* Don't you get started; I just dare you . . . Lol-- his is the philosophy of history that is the statements of laws working on the material items (ie, the people/states/what have you of history), and, so, hence, there is a substance other than material that is the substance of laws, the nature of interacting rather than simply being. So, consequently, it's all mystical and ethereal and hard-to-read ("Spirit" and "Reason" and all this gibber-gabber that has to be explained, but, once it is, it makes sense ^_^) and but I love it! Plus I also understand it (I think . . . ,maybe it's a bad sign if I think I understand it too well . . . ), and no one else in the class seems to, or those that do just think it's retarded ("Dull and boring," one girl said, lol . . . ). Anyway, Hegel, like Tocqueville, believes in the inevitable journey towards freedom-- and he actually believes in the "end" of history, ie, the theoretically point where all are free, rather as the end of gravity would be the point at which all has unified in upon itself (and I say, as I like cycles and expanding upon and can't stand the idea of "the end," where upon it starts over and has it's own renewed Big Bang and begins again ^_^). Anyway, it made me think a lot of my book, and how the whole scheme of America is a point of perfection towards which we are perpetually trying to achieve. In fact, Hegel even calls that the point of "Idea," which is astoundingly close to the considered title for my book, "The Ideal America" (amiably ambiguous-- is it "the ideal form of America," or "the ideal which is America?" Yeah . . . think about it . . . ^_^ . . . lol . . . O.o . . . ).

I think the world ended in 1945. Then God changed his mind about everything and we live in a post-apocalyptic society and everything has changed.

Think about it . . . (I'm not saying I really actually believe it) . . . but, ponder on it-- because it's surprisingly plausible, to me . . .

Okay, I need to stop with this enough babbling and actually do some work. Too bad we don't get credit for writing reviews on our classes, lol . . .

Oh, Hegel . . .

I was very inspired by Introduction to Political Theory II class today . . .

I really wasn't understanding the reading (Hegel is, if possible, even more wordy, verbose, and harder to plow through than me, lol . . . ), but it all makes sense now after class, and, well-- I got out a piece of paper and starting drawing random pictures that had to do with the subject material, and that's always a sign that I'm inspired (when I doodle in the margins and then erase it, that's when I'm bored, lol . . . ).

It was a refreshing set of ideas, and, even if it's too soon to tell (and probably too optimistic-- as that happens quite rarely) if Hegel and I are mind-mates, I like the way he thinks. It turns out the mass of verbiage was about the course of history, and the laws acting upon it. It's against Materialism (ahh, so refreshing-- I'm so glad we've moved out of that in Philosophy)-- it was pretty funny, actually; he asked if anyone knew what Materialism was, and I threw up my hand and explained it, and then was like *curls up* "Ack, it drives me crazy!" and he gave me this funny look and was like, "A lot of people are Materialists," and I was like, "Oh, I know," and then *glarethinks* Don't you get started; I just dare you . . . Lol-- his is the philosophy of history that is the statements of laws working on the material items (ie, the people/states/what have you of history), and, so, hence, there is a substance other than material that is the substance of laws, the nature of interacting rather than simply being. So, consequently, it's all mystical and ethereal and hard-to-read ("Spirit" and "Reason" and all this gibber-gabber that has to be explained, but, once it is, it makes sense ^_^) and but I love it! Plus I also understand it (I think . . . ,maybe it's a bad sign if I think I understand it too well . . . ), and no one else in the class seems to, or those that do just think it's retarded ("Dull and boring," one girl said, lol . . . ). Anyway, Hegel, like Tocqueville, believes in the inevitable journey towards freedom-- and he actually believes in the "end" of history, ie, the theoretically point where all are free, rather as the end of gravity would be the point at which all has unified in upon itself (and I say, as I like cycles and expanding upon and can't stand the idea of "the end," where upon it starts over and has it's own renewed Big Bang and begins again ^_^). Anyway, it made me think a lot of my book, and how the whole scheme of America is a point of perfection towards which we are perpetually trying to achieve. In fact, Hegel even calls that the point of "Idea," which is astoundingly close to the considered title for my book, "The Ideal America" (amiably ambiguous-- is it "the ideal form of America," or "the ideal which is America?" Yeah . . . think about it . . . ^_^ . . . lol . . . O.o . . . ).

I think the world ended in 1945. Then God changed his mind about everything and we live in a post-apocalyptic society and everything has changed.

Think about it . . . (I'm not saying I really actually believe it) . . . but, ponder on it-- because it's surprisingly plausible, to me . . .

Okay, I need to stop with this enough babbling and actually do some work. Too bad we don't get credit for writing reviews on our classes, lol . . .