Erase me, Yesterday.


1470786093567616674987☆   Erase me yesterday.

            ★   By Winston Steadman

    Do you know that feeling you get when you realize you’ve forgotten something? That unending sensation that something important has slipped your mind and no amount of backtracking or pondering can bring it back. I have had this occurrence more than a couple of times. So very frustrating it is! You tell yourself if it is important, it will come back to you. Has it come back yet? Would you notice if it did? Maybe deja vu is just you forgetting something very important and not really noticing.

    Why does it bother us so much? I can recall things, well, instances when I had forgotten something and tried my hardest to command my brain to release the Information held hostage. To no avail I pleaded and tried every trick imaginable. I think we are afraid of the helplessness. How very eerie, the fact that we interpret the world around us through chemical reactions in the brain. Everything we see and recall are merely electrical impulses that flicker across the fatty tissue in the depths of our minds. The mere idea that by removing certain chemical, axons, or a handful of synapses would radically change what we know and believe to be real is unsettling, if not completely mind boggling.

    Being a neuropsychology major has its benefits. You get to look at the brains of small animals, as well as, you inherit the ability to talk about lots of things that very few people really care about. After a long and gloomy day of classes and rushing to and from to here professors speak on the matter, I would no sooner consider the aspects of the frontal lobe as to dig mine out. Dragging myself home, I bump a girl and she drops her things.  Cursing, the short haired girl with full sleeve tattoos exclaims, “watch it jerk.”. I help to gather her things.  But she looks at me, takes her books and leaves quickly, almost running. What got into her. She seemed to be terrified.  Confused I stop and rest at a bench. with all intention of finishing my thesis for my riveting final on Neuroanatomy. It feels like this bench has drained something from me. I rack my brain and realize I am lost for thought on my paper. Was it my paper? Damn, I don’t think it was. I hear something rustle and I see a goat or dog from the corner of my eye, It moved fast and must have been pretty large. Lost behind a bush I think nothing of it, being kentucky after all. I pull myself from the lonely bench and head home, peering over my shoulder. Feeling lost, I hit the softness of my bed with the force and comfort to put restless babies to sleep.

    I will sleep until ten, wake up, finish my paper, and then sleep again. That seems to be the best plan of action seeing as how inviting my pillow is. Escaping in the warmth of my blanket, my brain begins to rest, rebuild. I reach rem sleep and my mind is flooded with images from my subconscious. Random things, how very vivid, a tree losing its leaves, a flower wilting, playing with my action figures in the bath and the water running, my mother scolding me for a word I said at school, these are all things that stick out to me. Random memories, as well as, ideas of how things have happened and how I believe things work. So it makes obvious sense, I recall my professor pointing out that our brains, while repairing themselves, run, sort of, diagnostics if you will. It recounts memories and we see things only our brains believe to be possible. Kind of like when we played with puzzles when we were little. A person falls down, we try to fit the star ★ in the star hole ☆, good choice. A person falls up, we try to fit a star ★ in the square hole □, bad idea. Some of our dreams are merely our brain testing reality, what it knows to be fact.

    We learn not to take everything for face value, so our brains are left to sort it out. My brain is currently sorting a figure, one I haven’t seen before, but possibly I could see in this world. It has all the attributes needed, if not a few extra. It is obviously bound to the earth by some force. It exerts effort to complete basic tasks. It has two legs and even stands with its arms to its sides. Containing eyes like an owl, piercing really. Covered in fur, definitely mammalian, brain concludes. Though the fur on its legs was soft and short, like the downey feathers of a dove, a black dove. The fur became course as it traveled up its back. The legs also has a strange shape, with hooves on the end, only these hooves were split three ways. Also, these legs were made for running, jumping. Definitely a predator, despite the strange goat like shape,; However, it stopped looking like a goat abruptly as you consider its hands. Long fingers that bend in a strange manor, sharp and black claws like it had been digging in mud, or had clotted blood caked to its wrist.  The face was elongated and sharp. It was canine. It was evil. With sharp teeth that were split and jutted from its awful mouth, also a disgusting crimson tint.  Bony protrusions seemed to cover the beast, each looked as if random bone had tore through the surface of the animal in only areas associated with joints, the exception being the two on its head. Coming from the temples and straight out, with blood running into its scruffy inconsistently long beard. Its ears perk like a dog and it turns to face me. Bounding, with its powerful legs, I am no match for its speed.

    I sit up abruptly. What the hell was that? I look at the clock and it reads nine A.M.. I have slept far longer than anticipated, and now the completion of my manuscript will be postponed due to the twenty minute commute to the class, pressured by the tardy bell a mere 15 minutes off. Opting to take the glares of my professor with stride, I dress slowly. Gathering things into my bag, I see the calendar reads  November, yesterday was the last day of the month.  I turn the page and pin it on December.

     On my way to campus, it is raining lightly and the red, yellow and grey leaves rustle from the trees to the ground. It is kind of foggy and the streets seem a bit empty. I feel like I am alone but yet, I can’t shake the feeling that suspense is building in the air. The wind blows the smell of lingering rot into my face. With the last traces of Autumn in my lung, I feel the weight of the moisture about. I assume it to be the decaying leaves and the dirt thrown from Kentucky’s continuous rain and wind for the season. It seems everyone is already in class when I arrive. Half expecting the professor to turn my way, I enter the class quitely. Without a passing glance the professor continues. As I make my way to the back. Stability fails me, and i hit the ground hard, my books scattering. I haul myself up and notice nobody has even turned my way. How strange, that everyone has ignored my presence,  I peer out the window and  feel groggy, pulling myself up abruptly I see the awful florescent lighting in the empty classroom.

    I must have fallen asleep. I get up and gather my things. Exiting, I opt to drag myself through the gloomy Autumn day, there is a slight fog and I notice the leaves when suddenly the air Is knocked out of me.

“Ufgh” I fall to the ground, and without looking I begin picking up the books I dropped.

“Watch it jerk.” I look up to see a girl with tattoos take her books and run off.

    I shake my head as I gather my thoughts. Sitting down, I feel lost.

I whisper, “deja vu” and peer over at the bush near me. Feeling a sense of dread, like I had forgotten something very important.  I stand up and almost immediately lose my balance, I am laying down, I am late for school. I try to get out of my bed, it is cold. The trees are a dark brown. The rain pounds on the leaves around me as I struggle to my feet. I remember, it was supposed to rain this evening around the time I take my test. My head hurts so bad. A man approaches, he is illuminated bright light, but almost synthetic is its illuminosity. He is wearing a bright white suite, and he looks very punctual with hair swept to one side. His skin is dry, he smiles and his teeth are straight. He smells sickly sweet.  I am suddenly on my hands and knees. My skull feels like it has torn open as I feel myself transforming before the man. His voice an unnatural falsetto as he seems to speak in latin, or Greek. A growl beneath the undertone of his voice, he smiles, and his skin falls away. I feel hair growing, blood burning, my hate, is enveloping me and all I feel is rage, seperation and malice. It overtakes me as I feel bound to a growing sense of doom. I loose myself and I see revulting things in the darkness. A realization that darkness is forced to exist by the light, from joy springs suffering, and in the light, darkness can never fade. I feel a falling sensation as my Psychology professor paces the room, exiting with his books. I gather my things and leave. My professor is wearing his bright white suit today, he smiles his bright white smile to me as he lights a cigarette on his way out the door. I never graduated college. I work at Barnes and Noble, and my dreams plague me and have caused me insomnia for the past 5 years. My life feels like an echo. Since I lost my parents to dementia my life has never been the same. I remember learning about Dementia in class, a slow killer with the patient never really knowing why their life is slowly falling apart. It is sad really, and hereditary, the doctors say.

   Being admitted in the institution of Cincinnati-or.possibly somewhere in Connecticut- for reasons I can not recall at times. Daily physicians institute ‘treatment’ in hopes to reverse my ailment. If I were to be seen, with my blank face and glaze for a stare, it would not he assumed my thought pondered on heredity, or considering the bright white suit of a professor in Kentucky.



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