By: Anna Galathea
The blue curtains were swaying gently against the breeze, sunlight floods the bright, cheery, room; and then I saw my favorite object. It was a tall, wooden closet with see-through drawers. Each level contains slices of files made from clear glass instead of your usual folders or boxfiles. It was inspired by that unforgettable Tom Cruise film, Minority Report. Now I think you’re getting the idea. I just entered my “memory bank” and I’m sliding a glass file containing some of my most precious memories….
I’m one of those people who spend half their time daydreaming, musing, reflecting, analyzing. And I love going into my memory bank and deriving files there. They were sealed and sorted for my pleasure. These files of memories never fail to ignite different feelings as I go by them like watching precious slides from video.
My childhood clumsiness, adolescent stupidities, my adult bloopers…but wait, not all of them are silly and ridiculous. There are also more of melodramatic, soap-inspired parts of my life as if I’ve been the actor and the world is my stage. And there are very happy memories, too, but most of them are well-stored in the highest level of my memory bank closet, because they are too precious to lose.
Because I loved reading lots of fiction and paperback stuff, I’ve inevitably put myself as heroine, antagonist, or an observer. Depends on what kind of book I am reading, hayyy…I can’t help being involved a bit much. Sometimes, I get carried away wearing the same shoes of the character that I need to shake my head a little to put my feet back on the ground. Hello earth!
Books are some things I just couldn’t live without. They give me some kind of high. When I was younger, I’ve always metapohorised (*my term) reading a book as taking your soul out and traveling to some place, to some time, and to some life. Now, I think you’re getting a grip of what I meant by ‘high.’
Inevitably, I’ve made my life just like a book with stories and chapters leading to a one, great finale, only God knows what. But the difference is, each chapter and story of my life is ordained by one, might Hand, herding me to the fulfillment of His great, divine purpose. Now, is there anything that’s going to be better than that?
Life is not about who I am. As each file after file of memories are withdrawn from their glass-encased drawers inside my brain, I cannot help but be thankful that in all those times He was there. There is reality in my fantasy. There is truth in my moviedom. I am not supposed to be the star, but Him who planned it all. Jeremiah once said, “Before You formed me in the belly, You knew me…” (Jer. 1:3a)
I hope it finally dawned on you why the memory bank, or why Jane Margaret…they are allusions to my real and reel world; my life book; my memories; my ‘me.’ There’s nothing wrong with getting files from your memory bank and watching play slides of memories that will bring you to your fantasy world. Muse upon the lessons and be grateful to God. Ok, time to shut my memory bank and get back. Hello earth!