It's funny the things that come back, the memories that seem to come from nowhere. When you grow older, you are haunted sometimes by certain memories. They don't always make sense. Why do I remember this? Why did I forget that? Wouldn't it be great if we really understood how our brains work? It sounds as though there's a story there.
I have a memory of a school. I can see the hallway, polished linoleum floors, wooden walls, tall ceilings, and I go into the classroom. Inside is a math class and I am failing it. The male instructor probably doesn't know that I missed something vital in a transfer of school to school and I seem unable to tell him. It's like a dream but it is not a dream. It happened. I repeated the class. If I had been able to tell the teacher that we never covered square root in my last school, I would probably have got the help I needed and passed the class. But I remained mute and had to repeat it. He never asked and I seemed frozen in place, unable to call for help. Maybe that's why I remember it.I suppose there's a reason why things happen. At least, that's what we tell ourselves. It helps to make sense of chaos. And maybe there is total order in the universe. We just don't always know that. Maybe that's why I like mysteries. At the end, there is an answer.