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June 21, 2018

25. Future Tense

November 6, 11:12pm
God, I’m getting old, he said to himself in a mirror. I’ve never had perfect skin—but this is pocked and loose, textured—this is age showing itself. His reflection agreed, you’re not old but you’re aging. He smiled and stepped away from himself.

November 7, 7:31am
“Are you feeling any better?” she asked softly. Her back was turned as she weighed and measured coffee. “I’m sorry you didn’t sleep well,” she turned to face him.
“Feeling? I feel fine. Could use a cup of coffee, but otherwise I feel great!”
She looked at him strangely. “You said your head and eyes hurt last night. You woke me up to tell me and got some medicine.”
He furrowed his brow, relaxed, and then smiled, “Well. I feel fine now!” He distinctly remembered feeling perfectly well and slept great but disagreeing would help nothing. 
She shrugged and poured two cups of coffee.
Memory is fleeting.

November 7, 2:49pm
He walked out of the store with his hands full of bags. The bright sun shocked his system from the cool and clostrophopic aisles of the store. Immediately his eyes and head ached. He was flooded with emotions and couldn’t explain it but thought of his wife and her comments that morning: she must have simply remembered what he could not.
He squinted helplessly to ease the pain and dim the sun in his eyes. From the corner of his eyelashed vision a car neared him quickly. A short squeal of tires braking and a fluttered turn of the steering wheel were too late. Pain jolted the front of his brain and the back of his eyes.
He found himself lying on his back in pitch black. His eyes shot open and his heart raced. It was a dream: he was not hit by a car. He was in the peace of his bed, his wife beside him. The clock said 3:14am. He eased out of bed to get some medicine; his eyes were teary from pain.

November 8, 8:10am
“I had a weird dream I got hit by a car last night,” he said. “And my head is throbbing with pain.”
“Have some coffee and take some medicine,” she said warmly.
“I’m sure you’ll feel better once you wake up.”
“Kinda strange how you said I got up two nights ago for a headache, huh,” he added.
“What do you mean? I don’t remember two nights ago...”
“You said I woke up to get medicine for a headache.”
“I don’t recall that at all... two nights ago? Not just last night?”

November 8, 10:45pm
In a mirror he saw himself again. His eyes wandered his face. Is that a new scar? I’ve never seen that mark before...

A subtle pain emerged itself from behind his forehead and over his scalp. His eyes felt thick and heavy with a glowing pain. His skin was aging and it was starting to show.

I’ve been rereading Borges and want to continue to explore reality through dreams and memory. This is a very basic outline of understanding and recollection but the narrative of knowingand being through malleable memory is a fun subject.

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