The thoughts that are organized and properly compartmentalized and stored in my brain are less. Most of them are spread all over my head in a haywire fashion. In no apparent harmony. If they could be seen as extensions of my brain cells, they would surely give me an appearance more horrid than Sanjaya Malakar’s ponyhawk. A perfect fuzzy head (well, that in some sense is an oxymoron).
My eyes or other senses have caught them sometime or other in a rapid succession of events, because of which, they are sometimes stored in to-be-bothered-with-later zone. And as happens with all such things that go in folders with a miscellaneous tag, they soon start tangling, overflowing and the outwardly effect of that translates into fuzzy actions.
They are single stranded, silvery transparent structures, which are not transient, but appear so. They fool me in believing that they do not exist (another oxymoron). But that’s how they work. They need just the right amount of stimulus to be provoked…they need just a very appropriate amount of light coming through the shambles of memory and strike them at perfect angles to make them perceptible and visible.
The bottom-line of this rambling is that there are quite a lot of memories that surface themselves from time to time and leave me wondering where I picked them. Some are crystal clear and yet vague and unclear that they take me to another realm. For minutes, I’m kept wondering about the possible occurrence of that event that may have already occurred. Or may not have. I wonder whether it’s a trick my mind is pulling on me. Thankfully, if the RAM is not much entangled, I’m able to trace back the thoughts, either to exact time or to my imagination…
Some incidents that probably never took place, some things that probably were never said…sometimes the unreal ones claw their way into your chest and try to gnaw at the heart….sometimes they stay alone…sometimes they get mixed with the real events…and then it’s really difficult to tease apart the real from the surreal. Sometimes the unreal ones don’t mix randomly but create a fine border…and then it’s interesting to fathom out the exact reason or motive why my mind would want to bring the real and unreal parts together…Are these early symptoms of some delusional disorder, o' Dumbledore? Something like Schizophrenia :)