FORGET

by Sharon Dobbs

Questions. I had so many questions. Why was I here?  All the rumors of SOMETHING BIG about to happen had me searching for answers where there were none. So I worried, and fretted and twitched. Sometimes I cried. Cried so hard I got hiccups. I could hear laughter at my plight. Felt the pressure of hands rubbing over my body. Cool hands trying to sooth my restlessness. Cool hands and a soft voice telling me it was going to be all right. Soon, very soon I would be out of here. I would be whole again, able to survive the stress of this world. Until then, I just had to hang on. Trust that the cure would strengthen me.

  Weightless, suspended in the salty water, I kicked and twirled, punched and stretched.

The darkness didn’t scare me. I was used to not seeing. Perhaps my vision would return in time. Deprived of sight, my world was full of sounds I couldn’t get away from. Clanging, metal against metal, buzzing, shrieking, banging.  My entire body reacted to the sounds. Sharp, staccato noises made me shrink within myself. I covered my ears. The noises still came as pressure on my skin. But sometimes, there was a stream of sound so melodic as to feel like a caress on my cheek. Then I would smile, relax and float unafraid in the salty brine.

Suspended, my mind drifted. Faces of others floated before me. Their images burned on my minds’ eye. I reached out in the darkness, foolishly hoping to catch hold of a smiling face with soft loving eyes, or the tendrils of curling hair that wove about soft cheeks. My hands came away empty. Longing overwhelmed me.  Longing to once again feel those strong arms wrapped around me.  But, wasn’t that why I was here. To forget the memories? So many memories.

I was loved. I KNOW that I was loved. I remember being told that I was special. I was being trained for a mission. I could feel my face clenching. What was my mission? 

“You’ll know, when the time is right. You’ll know what to do,” I was told.

So, how did I get into this salty tank? Was this part of my training? Or was this part of my mission?  I can’t remember. The longer I stay in this tank, the less I can remember. My mind seems to seize when I try to remember. I was rigid, trying to remember. Remember.  I. Have. Got. To. Remember!

I feel the pressure from those cool hands rubbing over my body.

“It’s all right. You’ll be okay. Just relax.” Soothing voices, filtered through the liquid that supported me.

It was no use. I couldn’t be soothed. Time was running out for me. My memories, my relationships, my history was being taken away, wiped from my mind. Elusive, fractions of the past swirled in front of my unseeing eyes. I snatched for them as one who was drowning. I had nothing to hold on to. I couldn’t run. I was trapped in this tank. I was growing weary of trying to remember who I was. What was I supposed to do? What was my mission? Was there even a real mission, or was it something I had made up in my head?  An excuse for my helplessness at being trapped in the confines

of this salty tank.

Something had changed. The salty brine was being drained away. The floating sensation was being replaced with a sense of heaviness I could not endure. Strange voices echoed around me. Strange hands, hot and rough squeezed at me. After being isolated for so long, I couldn’t comprehend that this might be IT. The time to start my mission. Would I succeed, or would I fail. I still couldn’t remember. I had to rely on my training. Trust that it would kick in. Once they cut that cord I had to pray that my support team would know what to do.

That scar would remain with me forever. A reminder of a past life I could vaguely recall. A mission that I had to fulfill. Questions unanswered, longings undefined. The purpose unknown. Relying on the knowledge that I belonged to a special group that all bore the same scar. The scar that made us long to remember the hidden mysteries. The desire to get back to the world we came from, before we were formed in that salty brine. Before we were knit together in our mother’s wombs.  Before our lips were sealed with the kiss of an angel who whispered fervently, “Forget, little one. Forget. You cannot bear it, unless you forget.”