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I dreamed I had amnesia. When I woke up, I remembered the whole thing perfectly.
This was no ordinary dream. An ordinary dream would be more like I arrive at school dressed only in my underwear, so I hide behind a bush. Or something like that. Once I woke up, however, the whole thing would seem silly, and I’d forget all about it by breakfast.
But I could not forget this dream. I could not forget how it felt to have no memory. Awake, the problem seemed even more serious.
In the dream, I’d been walking around my own neighborhood. Yet I had no idea where I was, or how I got there. I tried to ask directions home, but I couldn’t remember having a home or a family. I didn’t even know my own name.
I stared at my Raisin Bran and wondered what it meant. “Mom,” I said, “I just had the worst dream. I dreamed I had amnesia.”
“Really,” she said. “Don’t forget to come straight home from school. We have to visit Grandma.”
My mind kept drifting back to that dream. I had to tell someone who would understand. Compared to your average ninth grader, my friend Madison was deep.
She listened to my detailed description. “It’s hard to express,” I said. “I was physically there. I could still walk and talk and everything. But somehow the real me had been completely erased.”
“Wow,” she said.
“I never could have imagined something like that while I was awake,” I said. “I feel like I really had amnesia, like there is still something terribly wrong.”
“But Jim,” she said, “you can remember everything now, right?”
“Uh huh.”
“So what’s the problem?”
At lunch, I tried to tell the guys about it, but Ron broke in, “One time I dreamed I had to mow this guy’s lawn, and I looked up and his grass went on forever.”
“One time,” Eric cut in, “I dreamed I was supposed to go to the prom on a blind date with Selena Gomez. But when I got there, it was Lady Gaga instead. She was wearing a dress made out of bicycle tires and this weird lampshade on her head. Every time I tried to dance with her, she kept turning into my Aunt Lucy.”
“Oh that’s nothing,” Dave said, “One time…”
Our guidance counselor always said if we had personal problems, we could talk to him. I never imagined I’d need to do that, but talking to other kids wasn’t working.
I told him the dream, and he said, “Hmm. That’s interesting. I’m glad you came in. I need to talk about your schedule for next semester. You signed up for art, but that meets at the same time as band.”
I walked home alone. Down the streets from my dream.
I remembered about my grandma. My mother and my uncles took turns. I knew my mother felt terribly guilty about it. The place was dreadful, just a hospital bed in a bare room. It was hard to believe just a few years before that feeble old woman was my lively grandma. I always tried to get out of going.
Mom and I headed down the long corridor to Grandma’s room. Just the smell of the place put me on edge. As we were about to enter, a nurse asked to have a word with Mom.
“Go ahead, Jim,” Mom said.
The gaunt scarecrow of a woman seemed to be staring at a blank spot on the wall.
“Grandma,” I said.
No response.
“Grandma.”
“Oh Freddy!” she said. Freddy was my 250-pound, fifty-year-old uncle.
“No. It’s Jim.”
“Freddy, I know my own son,” she said sternly. “And don’t think you can get away without doing your chores. Your father will expect the snow shoveled and rock salt on the driveway before he gets home. You know how he is about leaving the station wagon on the street.”
It was seventy degrees out. Freddy’s father, the station wagon, and the driveway now only existed in old photographs.
“And where is Lucy?” she said.
“She’s talking to the nurse, Grandma.”
“She should be home from school by now. She thinks I don’t know about that boy she is seeing. But you kids can’t get anything past your own mother.”
That made me smile. “Really,” I said, “so who is she seeing?”
“Oh, that boy in that rock n’ roll band she met at that dance.”
I prodded her further. She told me all about this high school romance my mother had with a red-haired boy who played guitar.
“You have a wonderful memory, Grandma,” I said.
“Like a steel trap,” she said. “And why do you keep calling me ‘Grandma’?”
For the first time in years, I was having a wonderful visit with my grandma. “Last night,” I said, “I had a horrible nightmare. It has been bothering me all day.”
“Tell me all about it,” she said.
She listened in rapt attention to my every word. When I was through, she said, “Oh, that sounds terrifying. I could not even imagine losing my memory like that. Your memory is precious. But don’t forget, Freddy. You will always have me. Whenever you have a bad dream, wake me up and tell me all about it.”
I went home feeling relieved.
James Fabris is a writer living in Princeton, New Jersey. He is working on a novel called “Whiteboy”. It is the story of a Mexican-American girl and her friends trying to survive on the streets of Chicago in the 1990′s.
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AMNESIA'S DREAM • by James Fabris,
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28 Responses to “AMNESIA’S DREAM • by James Fabris”
Comments
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February 2nd, 2011 at 2:02 am
What a fantastic story.
Maybe the last line needs reworking, but otherwise … WOW!
February 2nd, 2011 at 2:19 am
I started out by being somewhat sceptical – okay so this is a dream story and so on. But the story got better and better and I loved the ending.
February 2nd, 2011 at 2:56 am
Golly, this author sure can write!
Five stars.
February 2nd, 2011 at 5:36 am
Fantastic story, very well-written.
February 2nd, 2011 at 5:39 am
Good story well told.
February 2nd, 2011 at 5:58 am
Well this was a story of two halves: the 2nd being a deeply affectionate scene between a grandson & his grandma, and the 1st being a very average attempt at something surreal. I get the link – the connection between memory, age & the loss of one’s faculties – one’s identity even – but because part 1 didn’t capture me in & of itself, it didn’t quite work. I did truly love part II though.
February 2nd, 2011 at 5:58 am
Brilliant.
February 2nd, 2011 at 6:52 am
That was a very nice story, I really enoyed it. I like how the beginning draws some kind of suspense and how it ends with the relationship with gmom
February 2nd, 2011 at 7:57 am
I liked that he gained insight into his own fears through beginning to understand his grandma and fear her less. Well written and engaging from start to finish.
February 2nd, 2011 at 8:15 am
Great story. Great writing. Simple, direct, to the point, not a wasted word or wasted space.
Example: The hospital. No description except, “The place was dreadful, just a hospital bed in a bare room.” This story didn’t need anymore than that, and the author knew it. Such restraint is rare, but from this MC’s POV, perfect.
Five memorable stars on this one.
February 2nd, 2011 at 8:18 am
Very nice sidestepping into his friends’ dreams. Puerile poetry! And the wrap-up was a succinct conclusion. You could teach our writing group anytime. 4 stars.
February 2nd, 2011 at 8:31 am
It’s nice to be shown a good story.
February 2nd, 2011 at 8:54 am
I enjoyed the ending of the story much more tore than the beggining. I’m glad that the main character had his grandmother to help him but I was unsure if the main character knew about his grandmother’s dementia and that was why he had the dream or if that was unconnected.
February 2nd, 2011 at 9:31 am
At the beginning with the description of the amnesia dream I thought immediately about alzheimer’s, and how it must feel to someone who has it. The description was very scary from that perspective, that it could happen to anyone. Those 9th graders just didn’t have the capacity to understand that, but Grandma did. Nice story, Jim. Congratulations.
February 2nd, 2011 at 9:31 am
Great story – clean, vivid writing and how delightful that he finally finds comfort in the place he least expected to. Bravo!
February 2nd, 2011 at 9:43 am
Hmmmm A cute story….BUT
No real hooks.
Only a three I’m afraid
February 2nd, 2011 at 10:16 am
Unique voice really came through in this piece. Wonderful. Look forward to more.
February 2nd, 2011 at 12:11 pm
Minor hiccup: The mother’s name is Lucy, the same as Eric’s aunt. Obviously, two people can have the same name (or, heck, Eric could be Jim’s cousin), but for whatever reason, the re-use of the name made my brain stall for a split second. Small nuisance in an otherwise excellent story.
The first half has the feel of a children’s story, in which the protagonist goes from character to character looking for answers. Nicely done. The second half was what sealed my great impression of the story, effective telling of how grandma was restored some of her humanity in the eyes of her grandson. Well-told, poignant, story.
February 2nd, 2011 at 12:40 pm
Great story ! The reader as well as the character
gains insight by the end of the story. Epiphany
is a closing hook the same as a surprise reversal.
The title itself ‘Amnesia’s Dream’ is the
opening hook drawing you into read it.
February 2nd, 2011 at 1:04 pm
This is remarkably well told; however I’m with my good friend Vondrakker. There doesn’t seem to be much story here unless I’m completely missing something (and it wouldn’t be the first time I’ve done that).
February 2nd, 2011 at 1:35 pm
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February 2nd, 2011 at 2:05 pm
Very, very nicely done, James! You nailed that young narrator’s voice perfectly, from lighthearted beginning to sad, but somehow uplifting ending. The irony of having a victim of dementia serve as the MC’s only source of relief from his fearful dream, though served up with great subtlety, was hard to miss. Seems both Jim and Grandma ultimately found what they needed, which made for a very satisfying story.
The little comic bits spliced into your story were a nice bonus. An enjoyable read, my friend! Thanks for sharing.
February 2nd, 2011 at 2:18 pm
I loved this. I could sort of see where it was heading when visiting Grandma was mentioned, but the ending was a surprise and very satisfactory.
February 2nd, 2011 at 8:55 pm
Nicely done, thanks.
February 7th, 2011 at 5:01 pm
Loved the story, especially the ending! Well done~ Kim
February 8th, 2011 at 6:16 pm
“Down the streets from my dream.” What a wonderful line!
See my facebook message to you, James.
February 9th, 2011 at 4:38 pm
Interesting story! You hooked me from the very beginning
May 2nd, 2011 at 4:30 am
Its well written. Grand parents care more about their grand children than anyone else. Grant parents like to spend most of the time with their grand parents. good concept you made to remember my grandma