My life comes back to me
I am reading Selected Poems by Tomas Tranströmer, and in a short essay titled "The Name," someone wakes up and doesn't remember who they are. It takes them several seconds to remember. Tranströmer writes about this beautifully.
All of a sudden I was awake, and didn't know who I was. I'm fully conscious but that doesn't help. Where am I? WHO am I?
This has happened to me a number of times. I remember the terror of not knowing who I was. It's like I know that I have a past, but I can't access it. Then it all comes back, like how a glass of cool water feels when you didn't know you were that thirsty.
Here's how it comes to Tranströmer:
After a long while my life comes back to me. My name comes to me like an angel. Outside the castle walls there is a trumpet blast (as in the Leonora Overture) and the footsteps that will save me come quickly down the long staircase. It's me coming! It's me!
But it is impossible to forget the fifteen-second battle in the hell of nothingness, a few feet from a major highway where the cars slip past with their lights on.
I remember more now! Sometimes I wake up in the past, before moving to Berlin. I can remember all that happened afterwards but as if it had happened in the past. It feels like a big loss and a sadness hits me. I don't want to be back. I want to be there. Then it comes back rushing in, with a big sigh of relief and I am here again. I am now.
