Memories Remembered and Never Forgot

Memory is a funny thing: it is malleable, and prone to err.  Add to that people’s tendency towards projecting their own assumptions, perceptions, and emotions upon an event – or an event not wholly glimpsed or heard – and you can fall far from the truth, as any good lawyer, policeman, or psychologist can tell you.  People’s minds are subject to change; even their own perceptions can be fooled.  Add to that people’s tendency to color the truth with their own emotions (which, in turn, are based upon their own perceptions, which in turn are often based upon a societal view) – and white becomes black, with no shades left in between.

We don’t trust memories – not much.  There are several varieties of them (or at least in ‘our’ case – I don’t know about you).  There are the “true memories”.  These are things which we remember because we have never forgotten.  There are no changes to those things.  We can (generally) place them in time and space.  We know where they began and where they ended.  There may be ‘gaps’ in those memories where we shoved something aside (retreating into our minds) – but they are there, have always been there, and until my mind begins to falter and fade, will remain.

Those are the kinds of things I’ve listed in my blogs and stories: true memories – things I remember that I (or ‘we’, meaning a part of myself) – never forgot.

Then there are the so-called ‘recovered’ memories.  We are highly suspicious of them – they smell like fish – as does any ‘addition’ to a memory we might already have (e.g. remembering ‘something else’ to add to a true memory of ours).  We discount them and very rarely list them.

And then there are the memories where we are not sure.  There are a bunch of them regarding our Puerto Rican Adventure where we saw some things, went through some things – and they were really weird.

Now technically they could have been a hallucination – however, they were much too real.  And if they had all been a ‘dream’ – well, then I wouldn’t be here.  Somehow I got myself to the airport – and I didn’t do it alone.  I ‘seemed’ to have help – lots of folks – and it was really weird.

So was the flight outta there – ‘sleeper’ agents and all.  There was something really weird going on there . . . unless I was truly mad and had gone off my skipper – and it certainly did feel real.  It had all the traits and outtakes – it was too solid of an event – and if so, then . . .

it was really weird.  And if THAT was so then perhaps what happened earlier was so – it certainly did have that ‘real feel’ – however, if that is true then there was a whole lotta other stuff going on (perhaps something to do with an MKULTRA thing, or some adherents to the MKULTRA principles, or who knows?  A religious cult or two?  A family thing?  We don’t know and it’s really confusing . . . no way to ever tell, either.)

MKULTRA.  I don’t think “we” were part of that program; not at all . . . but a later one, one which (according to my dad . . . and some other folks) is still going on.  A “kinder, gentler” program which is still running, churning out individuals to do certain things . . . items which might be needed, but which are (for the moment, anyway) ‘deactivated’ except in the need of war, nuclear apocalypse, national disasters, and whatnot . . .

however, some of those units are getting old (and unit, by the way, refers to ‘single individuals’).  This is just speculation of course, but then I remember my ‘training’ – and I know I was not the only one.  There’s got to be more of ‘them’ (meaning ‘people like me’) out there.  Ones who were trained as a small child to bear – and fight back – during a nuclear war or a foreign invasion of our land.

Now this is a ‘true memory’, something I am remembering: five of us standing by our bicycles, ‘playing war’ with the soldiers.  We are in the edge of the woods watching two groups of tanks attack each other – they are American tanks, they are on maneuvers, and so are us kids – in a way.  It is up to us to live and join – or simply ‘give it up’ and ride away . . .

But they had given us (or at least me – I imagine several others of us had gotten them) – the “Survival Evasion Escape” manuals (thick books, cream colors, thick typeset writing on the outside) . . . given us the ‘story’ – the situation (35K tanks ‘over there’ vs. 5K of ours, nuclear war, stuff like that) – giving us reason to participate in their war . . .

I remember standing around with a C.O. outside his APC (it was running, it was cold, and there was snow on the ground.  We’d just finished eating some old C-rations; warmed by the small fire the G.I.’s had built and we had huddled around) . . . talking about the tanks we’d seen and the troops in the field.  Going to the edge of the woods and pointing out their locations . . .

and then he giving US orders (me and my friends) to go over there – make friends with those folks – mislead them . . .

Instead, we went over there . . . and misled them . . . into attacking their own.  (and we felt VERY good about it).

Training: how much was real, how much was self-induced, how much was just part of being an Army brat stationed overseas?

How many of ‘you’ (meaning military brats) participated in the training?

Did any of your dad’s try to hypnotize you?

Did you learn about things like hand-grenades, jumping from parachutes (the old towers, remember?); how to plant a grenade in a can, booby traps and things – things meant to take out grown men (and certainly would a child)?

I think most Army brats remember “Army Day”.  But how many participated in “Army Day” year around?  Most of us I am thinking . . . but some more than others.  Some really put their nose to the ground – in a big way.

I know we did.

When I think about it: associated with the Army and the military for the first 26 years of my life – born into it, bred into it – lived and breathed it – Soldier dad . . . then joining the military (was a Marine) – then a later contract with the Army doing something else a number of years . . .

Then even now – just last year (or was it two?) . . . that military manual – several of them as a matter of fact, and me automatically ‘doing my thing’ – and then them disappearing . . . strange.

I just blame it on bad memory.  But even still . . . sometimes . . . hallucinations?  Imagination?  Or really something real?  We refuse to buy into all ‘our stuff’ – meaning that the Army actually ‘had a plan’ – or that we were in one . . . but then we get that creepy weird anxious feeling that makes us want to go furtive and glance over our shoulders to see if some spies might be there . . . someone watching over us . . .

and then we say ‘no’.

Why not.  After all: to say ‘yes’ would mean an even bigger mess . . . and might actually give some truth to those things we’re feeling . . .

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About jeffssong

JW is an adult childhood abuse survivor with DID*. He grew up in a violent family devoid of love and affection. He is a military brat and veteran. He no longer struggles with that past. In 1976 JW began writing "The Boy". It took 34 years to complete. It is currently on Kindle (http://www.amazon.com/dp/B004T3IVKK ), or if you prefer hard copy, on Amazon ( http://www.amazon.com/Boy-J-W/dp/1461022681). JW resides somewhere in the deep South. He is disabled and living with family. Note: Please feel free to take what you need; all is free to all. With that in mind, keep it that way to others. Thank you. We have 3 Blogs - One for our younger days, 0-10 (The Little Shop of Horrors); one for our Teen Alter and his 'friends' (also alters) with a lot of poetry; and finally "my" own, the Song of Life (current events and things)
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One Response to Memories Remembered and Never Forgot

  1. Michael says:

    They way my memory works has changed as I express and process. It has always been different than most people’s. I might remember an elevation of a building built 30 years ago and yet forget something in the now.

    My experiences required that I develop a memory in a certain way.

    I had to read manuals, One I remember was ballistics. The concept was that under hypnosis this information would magically be learned. This was done in what I call the army school although I expect it was navy/marines. I like that better than the spy school at least some of the soldiers had some idea of what they were doing. I was trained as a sniper. A M60 and Enfiield comes to mind.
    If I wanted I could draw the rifle and then find out what kind it was. I fire a weapon by feel I do not sight. I was taught how to load my own ammo and make a “brain” bullet. It is for small caliber 22, 24 and 18. I do not really know if those caliber’s exist. I am not a gun person.

    I can throw a knife.

    I have a vague memory of being trained to seek a bomb shelter. One of the guys in MKULTRA had one build and used it for other purposes.

    Walt Disney Corp had a program called “Baby Eisenstein” They just settled a law suit. Babies need to be loved not taught.

    A brain bullet is for close assassination you do not want a lot of gunpowder in the casing as the bullet might come out and less charge means less noise. Done right the weapon does not need a silencer. The cranium acts as the silencer.

    The most important thing about my memories is they can become just a memory in that they do not disturb me in the now.

    Like

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