Your memories (1 Viewer)

[Tapxe]

Things I want to forget, NOW. Woke up from a horrible dream this morning, my husband and I plotted to kill my brother, by stabbing, and carried it out.
I still feel horrible and guilty just for dreaming it. WTF would make you dream something like that?

Ambien?

 

[saintmdterps]

Music has a way of making memories very vivid and come out of nowhere for me. Good or bad. Otherwise I remember really useless and trivial information well. I remember math, numbers and repeated processes like clockwork. Names and faces are tougher for me than anything.

I remember all the phone numbers from growing up in the 60's and 70's. Our phone number in Baltimore was HU4-0529. Our neighbor's number was HU4-0528. I remember saying to my dad how that made sense, and he was like "That's not how it works. The Rubenstein's getting a number that's next to ours in the overall sequence is one shot in millions"

 

[Eeyore]

Mine are more sensory than verbal, but they’re just tiny snippets that are getting more vague with time. Soon all these moments will be lost to time, like tears in rain. Time to die.

Nice, Toy!

 

[Nisey55]

Ambien?

Nope, nothing but cereal for supper, no alcohol, just advil pm, been having a shrieking backache for awhile now.
I agree ambien will do some crazy shirt to your brain.

 

[Saintman2884]

My visual memory is awful. Almost aphantic. I have almost 0 memory of the mundane. I'm terrible with names and I forget people easily.I recall things through my internal monologue. A language based form of recall? I almost have to recall things chronologically. When I try to remember things, I remember almost everything which can be unfortunate. Things that didn't make sense as a child are all too clear as an adult.The ability to forget is a gift that can seem like a problem until you remember the wrong things.This ties into the blue pill $10 million dollars vs. red pill current brain in your six year old body thread.I remember things, as an adult, with a different understanding and perspective. There are people who were going through hell and I didn't understand.
I
If I could get that red pill...Having a good memory isn't necessarily a gift. Sometimes, you have to forget to be happy.

My first impression, or "memories" of the Monopoly Man as he entered ShawShank Penitentiary was that he looked strange, small, with that stupid, pint-size dwarf Col. Sanders mustache and arrogant, aloof demeanor that suggested he believed his class or social status was a shield, a kind of cloak that would protect him from these sorts of places. Even though I find out later he'd been accused and convicted of insider trading fraud and embezzlement and running one of the largest Ponzi schemes in American history, the losses for his clients so enormous that it makes what Bernie Madoff did look like an ordinary bank robbery.

But, in spite of expectations that we were complete polar opposites, character-wise, we eventually became Friends or acquaintances of a kind and used my contacts to smuggle in booze, weed, and also stock tips and hedge fund advice for his prison clients and prison guards. Reportedly, even Warden Norton was secretly asking for advice on appealing stock options and speculative annuities on Wall St. All in secret, under intense armed, prison guards.

But the Sisters of Perpetual Misery unfortunately took a liking to the Monopoly Man, and although he wasnt a homosexual or wasnt willing to temporarily took on the role, the Sisters really didnt care since in prison, savagery and violations are condoned until forcefully stopped. For the next 4-5 years, all the Sisters did was beat the living sheet out of Mr. Money Bags.


I would love to say The Monopoly Man fought off the Sisters and they would let him be, he proved too wirey, explosive, and fierce of an opponent in fighting the good fight, successfully for fending off their advances, I would like but the sinister, cruel reality is that prison is a harsh, unforgiving and violent place as not even Mr. Money Bags large, exclusive wealth could adequately protect him from getting the sheet kicked out of him and nursed back to health in the prison infirmary.

Come to think of it now, seeing that movie-goers have assumed for over 30 years that I'm somehow in my early 70's in this film and now in 2024, I'm still only 86 years old, I must be a real-life, slow-aging version of Benjamin Buttons, some cat I heard who lives in New Orleans who ages backwards and when he looks like hes 10 years old, he's really as old as me, chronologically. Or maybe I have dementia and just imagining these insane, deluded, farfetched ideas, maybe the Monopoly Man was just a composite, elaborate configuration that my mind created as a coping mechanism due to my dissociative personality disorder.

Or it could just be my memories are terrible and aren't worth reminiscing about and that in truth, I am an unreliable narrator of my own life story. Geez Louise, maybe I have lost it.