Now for the memory that might not be a memory. It’s nothing that suddenly popped into mind one day. I never forgot it, I mean. But because I was so young it may not be a real memory but just bits and pieces of a strange dream that I’m actually remembering since we don’t exactly form memories very well when we’re little which is why we can’t remember being born. I know there was a different “memory” in which a door was between the living room and kitchen of the house we lived in until I was in my teens. But then my mother later confirmed that there never was a door in that area.

I don’t know if I ever wrote about it or discussed this memory/dream with anyone before, but I don’t think I have. Stacey will be the very first person I share it with other than those who may read my journal.

Do I think the memory is real? My guess is no. It’s probably just a strange/scary boogie man kind of dream that I’m remembering, though I don’t actually remember feeling scared at the time.

The memory yet probable dream only lasts a few seconds. I’m guessing I’m between 3-5 years old. The house had 4 bedrooms. Besides my parents’ and mine, my two siblings had a room of their own as well. With my brother and sister being 8 and 12 years older than me, I often felt like an only child because they were both gone when I was only around 10.

When I was really little I had the room closest to my parents. When I was older and my siblings were gone, I slept in Tammy’s room and used Larry’s room as a playroom of sorts.

I don’t specifically remember Larry’s room being my room, but it might have been at one point. I can’t say for sure. I can think of 2 or 3 times I slept in that room, and one of those times was during the strange memory.

It’s quick and simple, so here goes. I’m lying in a twin-size bed. A night light is on and while the room is very dim it casts off enough of a glow to see the outlines of things. My eyes are open and there’s a form kneeling on the floor and hovering over me as I lie on the bed. I think to myself that the shape resembles a person, and then a few seconds later the person moves which confirms my “human” suspicion. There’s a nightstand by the bed and then there’s a rocking chair next to it. While remaining on their knees, the person swivels from the bed to the chair.

And that’s it. End of memory. Do I think someone molested me? I don’t know but my guess is probably not. There were a couple of attempted rapes when I was an adult but I fought my way out of them as terrifying as one of them was.

When I think of the male members of my family, some of them could be bullies at times, but none of them ever screamed pervert to me, and I never heard of any accusations either. My brother was a diehard slut as an adult who, as he admitted, cheated on his wife many times. But no one smacks of kiddy molester material that’s dead or still alive.

Despite the memory being off and no one striking me as the type to do such a thing, there are also a couple of other memories that I’m confident are true and actual memories.

I once heard in a movie or something like that on TV, that drawing dirty pictures and playing with dolls in a suggestible kind of way were signs of molestation. When I heard this, I was surprised because I not only clearly recall doing these things as a kid (a first or second-grade teacher confronted me on one such drawing which I denied was what it clearly was), but I really believed that these kinds of things were normal for kids. Kids were weird and curious and did these things, or so I at least thought.

So while I’m curious to get Stacey’s opinion on the matter, I still don’t think anything happened, but if it did, I’m not likely to remember it, and even if I did, what could I do about it all these years later anyway? We’ll see what she thinks in less than 24 hours from now.