Lucid Dreams

I haven’t written for a while, and there is a reason why. Everytime I sit down at the computer, I am no longer distracting myself enough so I get flooded with emotions I do not want. Certain people trigger it, certain comments. Certain music. Speaking of music, I have to turn some on… There we go. Listening to “Within Temptation – An accoustic Night at the Theatre” a CD I got from my sister on Christmas.

So, yeah. Since last time I have spent a lot of time thinking. Trying to remember. I have experienced something strange lately, and I don’t know if it’s my head on it’s own or the medication I recently started on, but I have been flooded with “fragments” of memories. The wierd thing is that I can only remember the smallest detail. A feeling, a sound, a smell, a colour and so on and so forth. But the big picture is not there. So I have to turn to others to get some help. Usually, getting one small memory back unlocks a lot of other memories aswell. Just as I was trying to remember things from my childhood, right before I left Norway, a very convenient thing happened. A friend I had when I was 10 or something contacted me on facebook. I mean, what are the chances of him contacting me the very day I was trying to recall so much about the very time when I spent a lot of time with him? And suddenly all these memories “unlocked”, like a dream suddenly becomming vivid. And it was NOT a very pleasant experience. It felt as I re-lived the feelings I had back then.

Maybe not my prefered methos, but hey!

When I was little I was kind of.. unruly, you might call it. I started shoplifting when I was very young (about 6-7 or something) and often get friends helping me doing it. Needlessly to say I was caught doing it and all hell broke loose. My mother had to come get me at the store and the friends who were there had ran away (All except one) and told their parents about this.. The children talked about it and the parents did aswell, and it was not long until everyone knew that I was a thief. The result of this was that the parents would not let me into their house and forbid their kids from playing with me, probably afraid that I would be a bad influence on their small angels.

I remember the feeling extremely well. I was like an outcast, the bullying got even worse and now it was not the kids being mean to me, their parents wasn’t exactly welcomming in their manners. I remember two occasions where everyone in my class was invited to a birthday party. Everyone except me. I remember parents getting REALLY mad at their kids when they came home from work and I was there, and I got thrown out.

I can understand them, to a certain degree… But did they never stop and think about it? How it affected me, being a small child and encountering such a degree of hostility towards me? How extremely lonely it felt being rejected and bullied by every other kid at school except the ones “brave” enough to still care for me?

I remembered another thing aswell. Something that is actually hard for me to write, because I have never told anyone about this (Well, how could I seeing as I didn’t really remember until a week ago) but here goes nothing. I remember when I was young, very young… I played with the tought of commiting suicide. The suicidal toughts has lingered in my head more or less for as long as I can remember.

I remember standing on this bridge, and I was only in first grade or something, and I was thinking about jumping of the bridge. I remember just before I moved to Sweden that I stood next to the tracks of the sub-way and wondered if jumping down on the tracks would kill me. I had heard that the tracks were full of electricity and would killd you if you touched them. And I jumped. I actually tried to commit suicide at the age of 10/11… I don’t know why, but nothing happened. And then a friend of mine came and convinced me to climb up on the platform again. His name was Magnus and is one of the people I would really like to meet again.

This memory was so disturbing to me I still don’t know what to make of it.
I often wonder what would have happened to me, how different things would have been, had I never moved to Sweden.


~ by Methras on 4 March 2010.

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