I'm not sure if I'm the only one that has this issue, or if it is some form of mental illness. I have memories that are distorted enough so that I realize it, or a thought imposes itself on me so strongly, I think it actually is a memory. It is one of those annoyances that make life interesting.
When I dragged, and it was in the middle of winter so "dragged" is the proper term, Tracy and a three year old Hayden to Boston, where I served my mission, there were some things I wanted to see. Mind you, this was somewhat uncomfortable for me as I didn't really like my mission all that much. As we hit the places I served as a missionary, I had some things come back to me. Some things remained kind of cloudy. As we headed away from New England back home, I remembered one of my transfers that led from Vermont to New York. On the way into Albany, I distinctly remembered a very tall viaduct that eventually led to a bridge across the Hudson. It was there. I was so sure of it. Well, as we approached Albany, I didn't see much sign of it. There was the river, and the Capitol...where is that bridge?
Albany Bridge
"Is this it?" Tracy asked incredulously.
"Yeah, it must be. Goll, how come I remember it so differently?" Instead of this long, very high bridge that I remember went on for miles, we were on a short bridge that only went up maybe 20 feet.
"I don't know. I was in the sticks for so long by the time I transferred to Catskill, maybe I forgot what a high bridge was like. Well, sorry for raising any expectations."
"You must have. We have higher footpaths at home. Wow!" Tracy laughed.
I don't want to say that I was having some sort of crisis, but I really thought I experienced something completely different that what we just saw. I looked up and down the river in vain to see if I could find a higher bridge or something else that would vindicate my belief. Nothing. Okay. So, I'll keep my mouth shut about what I expect to see at the Capitol. That might be completely different too. (And it was. It was like I was 50 feet off on everything I remembered.)
Nameless hill in Utah
I once went on a trip to Utah and I remember driving to a high altitude. I want to say it was in the Fish Lake area. I once camped in my car there and I was so cold. Well, no wonder, it was over 10,000ft. Anyway, somewhere in my mind's eye, I saw a grass covered hill and I climbed the hill with Hayden in tow. He's younger, like 4 or 5 years old. That's all I see. We never get to the top. I don't think we ever actually climbed anything. It has proven to be the most powerful memory, or fabrication, in my head. I can't even think about it for more than a second without wanting to cry my eyes out. I don't know what created it. I don't really know how it got there. I swear it must be some future thing going on in the time continuum as if this is my deathbed thought. I have taken over half an hour just to write this paragraph because I can't stop crying or gasping for air. It is that powerful to me.
I know I love my son. I love climbing hills. I love mountains and Utah. Somewhere those all became joined in an emotional nuclear bomb in my head and I double over as I am overcome by the mere thought of it. And it never happened.
About the only thing I can compare it to, or what I've seen, is on Darren Brown where he manufactured a religious experience for an atheist by manipulation. See here. When she stood up and gasped and cried...that is what this does to me. It's repeatable. It can happen over and over again. I have such a sense of love and loss all at once that it overwhelms me.
I don't know if I'm unique in this, but it does make me wonder how much of my life that I remember never really happened.
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