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Early Memories: what’s real? (and does it matter?)

Since there are limits to the therapeutic effects of humor – both for humor creators and humor consumers – we’re trying out some new, more erudite(ish) content. If you guessed that this Wellbeing Now! is a story, you are correct! It’s a little exercise in what we call first memory exploration (related: childhood amnesia), combined with storytelling, which can be therapeutic.

Some memories are encoded earlier than the age of three – what we call implicit memory: things you know but that are hard to describe with words and difficult to verify. What you get when you ask someone “What’s your earliest memory?” can be difficult to interpret, because these memories are shaped by the context in which the memory was originally encoded, as is the context in which you are being asked to recall it. But in a personal encounter, like when you are meeting a mental health professional for the first time, precision may not be all that important. The exercise itself can create connection and understanding – through the curiosity of the one asking, and the self-reflection of the one answering.

On to the story. This is a recurring dream from early childhood, told with adult words. It could be a dream of a memory, but that would be somewhat inexplicable. So, we shall call it a memory of a dream. Whether autobiography, parody memoir or absurdist fiction, you might never know. And that, dear reader, is how you use the element of suspense to fool people into being entertained by creative writing.


The sky is like night. The ground is luminous. It glitters like snow, or sand. This place is neither warm nor cold. It is silent, vast, stunning, and empty. The thought and act of moving are disconnected.

In chosen stillness, learning to move is pain. Limitation is discontent. I look around and realize movement. The next thoughts are complicated. Doubt. Fear. Of not understanding, of aloneness.

Eventually, fear, solitude and doubt become tiresome. I remember feeling stuck when I wasn’t. What is real? Does it matter? I can look up, so I do. Then I awaken.