My first memory

I had been in my car-seat for hours and hours that dragged on to the kindly rhythmic noises of our old Scout on the highway. My mom sat directly in front of me in the passenger seat; I remember watching her curls move as we grumbled along. My dad drove. I'm not sure exactly how old I was, but definitely somewhere between the ages of 1 and 2. The reason I know at least this is that my sister was in mom's tummy at the time. We, my sister and I, are a week and a half apart - both pisces.

The sky outside my window consumed us in blackness and yet I watched and waited. I don't remember seeing any stars, just one solitary porch light as the Scout finally came to a stop outside my grandma's house in the City of Fountains. I remember feeling heavy in my car-seat, my face pressed against the strangely comfortable blue fabric whose nap ran determinately in one direction. My dad opened his door to hop out and the sticky air seeped into my lungs. I drifted deeper into my car-seat and fell asleep.

That's all I can remember. Though I don't know why, this has always been a very vivid memory for me. I do question it's actuality when I consider that we aren't supposed to be able to form long term memories until the age of 5 or 6. It seems too real to have been pieced together, but memory is strange like this.

If you imagine yourself to be swimming, close your eyes and imagine the activity in your mind, your brain reacts exactly as if you were truly swimming. Having such strength, our imaginations and experiences really paint our memories as we wish them to be painted. I find it wild to consider this and reality.

I found a blog posting entitled "A part(ment)" by Stephen Dinehart regarding reality that is really interesting:

"What is reality but a series of unfolding narratives occurring in a polyrythmic order over time? An infinite amount of stories exist at any given moment, some are starting, ending, just reaching climax, others still not even a dream. What if you were to take reality and cut a cross section of it? What would it look like?

I believe our present perception of being is actually a wave moving up the hyperstring which is our four-dimensional being. We live in a brane world, as in a membrane moving through the bulk of time.

A part(ment) is a exploration into the moment. The positions of various membranes frozen in the bulk of time will be examined."