I have an assortment of bizarre facts floating in my head. To name a random few: what a decomposing body smells like (pet mouse died in the summer); how the composition of fur affects the softness (guard hairs /= soft, therefore squirrel tails are most likely rather unpleasant to touch); and how heavy the paw of a big cat is.
I have no idea how I know the weight of a giant paw. I know that it is solid, like hefting a furry rock, and that the play of bones is a lot like in a human hand. I know that the pads are hard, tougher than leather, and crack at the edges very badly. I have this sense-memory of a giant paw, and no idea how I acquired it. I know it’s a memory because of the cracks - I would never think of that on my own. I remember how they almost flaked away, like the pads were made of layers that would wear off over time. But I have no idea, no idea at all, how I came to know this. I’ve marveled at the solidity of a lion’s head for a long time, remarking on how they look so graceful but are really just a great big mass of bone that I certainly wouldn’t want to mess with.
I asked Dad about this, because it was only tonight that I realized this is a memory and not imagination filling in blanks, and he has no idea either although he says it sounds familiar, and thinks it might have been a tranquilized lion. I have no idea. When I reach for it in my head, there’s nothing there… Which most likely means it’s from a period of time I blocked out, and I’ll never get it back. Which is incredibly depressing. I almost wish I could ask my ex-mother about it, because it’s likely it happened when I was with her, but I doubt she’d bother remembering something like that. I just really, really want to know.
And now I guess I can write about what amnesia feels like. It feels like walking down a stairway, and when you reach for the next step there’s just empty space and you fall.
