In discussing a new found ability to rememeber his dreams after writing them down, Richard Bach, author of Illusions and Jonathan Livingston Seagull, writes in A Gift of Wings:
It wasn’t much later that I noticed that my days were dreams themselves, and just as deeply forgotten. When I couldn’t remember what happened last Wednesday, or even last Saturday, I began keeping a journal of days as well as of nights, and for a long time I was afraid I had forgotten most of my life.”
We all know how easily our dreams slip away from us, but what about the memories of our waking lives?
The specifics of our days blend together and so easily become forgotten, just like a passing dream.
This observation frightens me.
Photo by Wiberg.