You know when you’re ALMOST asleep and then this brilliant idea or thought flashes across the fading horizon of your consciousness? And you have that inner debate about whether to wake up and write it all down now, while you still remind it, or cross your fingers that you’ll remember it in the morning, and go to sleep? Yeah, had one of those a couple nights ago. And since I never remember anything from my last 30 seconds of consciousness before I hit Dreamland, I shook myself awake, turned on my light, and wrote these lines down. (Also managed to rouse my mother, who irritably stomped out of bed and demanded why the hell I was up at 2 am scribbling, because some people in this family actually got up at 6 am and went to work. Ouch. Low blow Mom. And oh so accurate. Which was why it was so low. I’M TRYING TO FIND EMPLOYMENT, OKAY, JESUS.)
Anyway. here’s my half asleep thought:
“Sometimes, somebody will say something, and you just flip, like a switch, to the next memory, to another train of thought. We flicker in and out of the light, in and out of shadow, like half-forgotten lemony fragments of memory, slightly worn, yellowing, curling a little at the edges. And there are things you don’t remember, like what you were wearing or why he came over to you, or if you were with other people. And there are things you don’t forget, like when he handed you his number and slid out of sight, or the first time he held you. Sometimes you try to forget first love. But maybe you shouldn’t. Maybe there’s something real important in there, mixed in with the heartbreak of losing first love and a little innocence and all the insignificant details we hold onto, while we forget the important parts.”
Pretty, isn’t it? Trouble is, I have no idea what it means. Or why I thought of it seconds before drifting into a deep sleep. Or even what I should do with it. I hate unresolved story fragments.