esrosedotblog

BEFORE MY EYES

I have read that, when one dies, his life passes before his eyes.

I am not sure who reported this.

Perhaps the same people who report a tunnel of light. The ones who had a near-death experience.

Unreliable sources. The same thing as hearing travel yarns about the New World from an explorer who didn't really quite get there.

I think there is a source of this life-movie theory that is quite real however.

As I have gotten older, I do 'see' scenes from my life quite spontaneously and without any intention. They pop up like random film clips. Like a movie trailer. Only the reverse.

Going soon from your neighborhood theater.

They are not even very traumatic or particularly memorable scenes.

I just got a scene of David Bixler and I playing cards in the entryway of his back door with his dog Lulu trying to get at us through the back door screen.

I am 8 or 9 years old.

Believe me. I do not think about David Bixler much at all. I cannot remember if I ever thought about Lulu. She was a puppy his dad had brought home from Germany at the end of WWII.

A pain in the ass as I recall.

There are myriad memories like this that simply pop up.

I think that we have seen this with old timers before. The ones who cannot resist telling you all about their memories. Unsolicited.

My mom and dad were different. It was hell to get my father to tell anyone about his own family or his personal history.

My mother would but as the years rolled by she tended to talk in circles so you would get, perhaps, five minutes of something and then she would repeat it almost word for word.

A stuck record. You remember 'records' don't you? Another simile. A short tape loop. Don't remember tape? Shit. Maybe nothing gets stuck anymore.

But I digress.

I have to hand it to Mom. If the story was not the truth she was sure good at protecting herself. The repeat was almost word for word identical.

And she could repeat the thing several times before she ran down or we left the room.

We didn't request a lot of memory stories from her.

I would report my "flashes before my eyes" stories here in the blog if I could remember them.

I had to sit right down and write the David Bixler Lulu Strip Poker story before it vanished.

Most of the memories are like the dreams one tries to remember. If you poke them too much for recall the memory bubbles burst.

Now that I have written this I wonder if I have just managed to document the onset of some well known mental disorder.

They will go down the list of comments here and put me in the bin.

Dementia or Alzheimers?

I don't think so. Those seem to deal more with a lack of memory or identity.

No.

I think that this is just that I have a lot of time on my hands and I am not absorbed with current tasks. My mind has free time.

This has been going on ever since David Bixler and I were playing strip poker. The mind constantly produces these pictures but we are too busy to notice.

Now that I have some spare time, I am getting to see my movie.

It is never a bad thing. Even if I get memories that are of unpleasant or painful times they just come up then pass away. There is no residual pain.

Excuse me.

Here comes another one. John and I just took off in an airplane and are headed, yet again, to St. Croix. We both have our clothes on. So far.

This could lead anywhere. We went there so many times.

It is like our photo album. All these pictures of blue water and palm trees and we don't know when and where we took them.

See ya' later!

Labels: life