Chapter 1:


A field of flowers and monitors


It’s a strange thing really, sometimes the most minor of events will stick in my mind and the important life-changing ones will slip from time to time. Many have tried to study the human consciousness, whether from a biological or philosophical lens- but the more we know, the more we don’t. ‘Less is more’ as they say and while there might be some scientific explanation out there for how I remember a birthday party I went to at 5 years old but not my first day at school, I still find it strange, nonetheless.

People spend years trying to forget what is painful because it’s so deep rooted in them, yet happy memories fade away ever so quickly- the human race is biased toward negativity, turn on the news and 90% of it is bad news and the other 10% vain and hollow ‘gossip’ you won’t remember come tomorrow.

You still have happy memories left right? Of course, we all do- perhaps you take solace in them in times of sadness or perhaps you hadn’t thought of them in a while… whatever the case may be they still exist but are your memories more positive or negative? Is that an indication of the quality of your life? Can happiness or sadness be quantified so easily or can one’s own quality of life still be high amidst seas of unhappy memories and things they wished they had forgotten over the happy moments?

Yet I remember a dream, a dream of you, it was abstract as dreams often are. A field of flowers, birds chirping, tees swaying beckoning to the winds call to move, computer monitors strewn across that field and an evanescent feeling of happiness. I didn’t mention you; you were not there. Yet perhaps it is because I associate you with happiness that I mistook it so, I’m not sure I’ll ever know. Or perhaps you were there? Maybe that is why I was so overjoyed, nevertheless, I walked through that field of flowers and monitors with a grin on my face- I knew I’d remember. It was a happy memory. I too put up no resistance against the light breeze and carelessly strolled and took it all in.

One of the monitors turned on, it showed a photograph- a photograph of 2 people, who were they? Why did the monitor show me it? I don’t have an answer to those questions you might ask but I do have my suspicions, after all; the photos made me happy. The monitor turned off, so I walked away.

Do you remember your dreams? Do you perhaps dream of happy memories, or do you dream of sad futures? I’m curious to know! As to what happened in the rest of that dream, whether it be happy or sad, painful or pleasant, I simply couldn’t tell you. To put it simply…

I forgot.