People: the ramblings of a madman

A Madman's First Memory

My First memory was a dream. Standing in a lone pale hallway, the walls set with ornate pillars, intricate designs on each wall and face of each slab of white stone and marble. Divots in the sides made way for relics on pedestals, paintings hung within such divots, or perhaps they were placed on a pedestal themselves. The details are deeply fogged, as the walls could be any number of designs or patterns, carvings perhaps, but I only remembered the simple fact that they had designs, and where marble. I believe people, or, humanoids of some sort were darting throughout the hall, and perhaps some specks of the ceiling rained down in tufts of dust, but I do not remember the details so clearly. I remember being called to aid, watching people rush past the crammed hallway carrying goods and relics, items of value, all rushing to some end of the hallway, out, somewhere. It only occurs to me as I write this I never pictured an end to the hallway, perhaps a single door of some sort, but I never pictured and exit. Either from some sort of guilt for not helping or some sort of figure telling me to, I began helping. Although I was a child when I had this dream I was the size of the rest of them, the same height as most, average were they all, none I can remember were notably tall or short. I approach a pedestal, and lift an object. I do not remember the object itself, only the feeling it gave me. A heavy, dark feeling, I remember it being marron, or, some shade of red, and meaty. I mainly remember how it felt meaty, and, perhaps hariy, like a heart or muscle, sprouting follicles of hair. It felt almost circular, the shape of the human heart, though I remember it not as damp or wet, nor as slippery, though it was also not dry. Perhaps it was moist, but it felt like holding some slab of meat,but it was not a physical feeling. No, it was more of a mental one. I am not a man of religion, although I study theology, I believe in no afterlife or gods, I do, however, remember the sensation as spiritual when I lifted the object. For some reason, I set it back down, perhaps it was too heavy for me, a burden of sorts, and either I set it down on the pedestal, or handed it to another who could carry it for me. Nonetheless, I remember leaving the object.
What I do not remember, was the order of the objects I lifted, although I write this as though I remember lifting the heavier, meaty object first, I do not, in honesty, remember the order, and which I ended up leaving with. The reason for me writing the heavy object first is because I simply remember being able to move with the other. I doubt I would have been able to walk with the other, for a long period of time anyway. Something about it repulsed me nonetheless. So either I lifted the darker object first and was drawn to it first, or, I went to it, and was unable to leave with it, as it weighed me down.
I also do not remember ever leaving, I simply remember trying to pick up both objects. In truth I may have even made up the memory of the collapse of the building we were in. Perhaps it was just a mentor and myself in the hall, and I attempted carrying both objects, as a test of sorts, and that was all. I feel, though, like there was some disaster occuring as the dream passed, and, that there were others darting past.
The second, or perhaps first object I lifted, was a lighter one. In fact the memory of the dream was recalled to me when a specific sensation washed over me. I was in a culinary classroom, and there was a cut on my pinky finger, and, as I turned off the sink, a single, tiny drop of water fell onto my pinky, and the dream came rushing back to me, the sensation. Light, tingling.
I believe the second object to be a vase, and, if the first object was a dark red, this was a light purple, perhaps a small, tall, thin vase, curving at some point, with a single flower within it. Perhaps the flower was also light purple, perhaps not. Nonetheless, the object I carried with much ease, and it felt purely light something only to be described as light and tingling, as opposed to dark and heavy.
That is all I remember of the dream. Fleeting details. It is also my belief that every experience or word, everything at all, and be selected into one of those two categories. Perhaps like a comedy and tragedy. The word "fleeting" as I just used falls under the second object, however, "details" is much harder to decide upon, however, "harder" itself, falls under the first object.
I remember nothing else.