The boulevard of the dead and other stories

Midnight Memories

Where does the fear come from? I asked myself, as I turned to look at the clock on the nightstand. There was probably a logical explanation, an explanation so simple that I would have just said "Oh!" and then nodded and continued as if nothing had happened, ignoring the fact that I had ever wondered. And, analyzing the numbers on the clock, I told myself that everyone experiences it. Feeling fear was normal. It was a survival reaction, wasn't it?

Besides, I didn't know any person who had never experienced fear at any point. For example, Javier was afraid of heights. He mentioned it the first day we met; our next-door neighbor had told us he was afraid of snakes, even though his youngest daughter had always had a fascination with reptiles, and my mom was scared about insects, while the guy on the fourth floor was afraid of something like... falling behind? Or running out of time?

Even so, I still couldn't control my reaction to the thought of what scared me. But how could I avoid it?

I had been surrounded by similar cases almost every day in my job, plus, part of my specialty involved treating such a condition. However, almost every night I had not been able to sleep because of the thought of it. And, although I tried to put it out of my mind, there it was again, bothering me.

I was terrified by the simple fact that, at some point, everything around me could disappear. I was paralyzed by the realization that I might not be able to remember anything around me or who Javier was, what his voice was, or what he meant to me. I probably couldn't remember what I did for a living, who my family was, or who I was. I was terrified of not remembering.

I would probably fade away, until I disappeared. And it was at that moment that I admitted it again, this time out loud: I was afraid of losing my memory. But how could I avoid it?

For years I had devoted myself to studying the human brain, and I had even come to the same conclusion as all the scientists before me: Forgetting wasn't all bad. Still, I was afraid that at some point my brain would deteriorate in such a way that everything I had acquired would begin to be erased without my permission, without my being able to prevent it.

In addition, I knew that my great-great-grandfather had lost his memory, so there was also the possibility that some factor was also still manifesting itself in me. It was clear that his time was very different from ours: After all, they did not have as many technological advances as we now found today, so avoiding it might have been much more difficult.

 However, whenever I heard his story I always thought about what he would have thought at the end. Would he have had a glimpse of what was going on or was it just like watching a movie? Would he have remembered who he was and where he was? Did he get a small glimpse of the life he was leaving behind? Probably not. He probably never asked himself any of those questions either, although, sometimes I like to imagine he did.

And, it was at that moment that the clock announced again that it was now midnight. The memories were about to come again. The last few nights it had been the same thing.

For some reason, when it was midnight my head insisted again and again on remembering. Sometimes they were good memories, like the day I celebrated with my mother the literature award to our favorite author, the day I put on my robe for the first time and went into the hospital, or the day I discovered that Javier loved me too. Sometimes they were bad memories, which brought with them doubts that seem obligatory in them. 

But they were memories. And, it was those moments where I was most afraid. It was those memories that made me beg not to lose my memory, not to miss any of those details. I demanded of myself not to forget. However, while reliving those scenarios, and inspired by my great-great-grandfather's story, I decided that I would find a solution to avoid or face my fear.

And it was at that moment that I had the idea.

I decided that the next morning, when the midnight memories were gone, I would initiate: I would invent a machine for the purpose of being able to see what had happened before before the memory disappeared. It would not supplant it, but, it would support it. Machines don't feel, so they wouldn't forget either.

In the machine, the diaries would be introduced, and it would have the capacity to read all the notes inside them, to later show images of everything that was written. The objective was that all the memories would be stored inside the system: It would be like watching a movie of life through what was entered in the diaries.

The screen should transform the writings into images, and then present them on the screen. It would not be like a time machine, but, depending on what you wanted to relive, or what date you wanted to remember, it was just a matter of seeing what was written in the diary. It would not be forgotten altogether.

And, as I saw that there was still half an hour to midnight, I sighed and, closing my eyes, I let all the memories and doubts flash through my mind, reassuring myself with each one that, finally I could accept my fear. I assured myself that each of those memories would prove and give meaning to my existence. Even in a time different from ours, it would be possible to remember without fear.

I reflected on the fact that, I might be forgotten, but, it was likely that in a different time someone would remember me. Someone would know that I, Frank, had existed, and that my memories had also existed.

And, as I tried to fall asleep, I allowed myself to relive again the midnight memories that came to me, consoling myself with the thought that at least my fear would not be as strong as before. It would be there; it would probably still be with me, but, I would not completely forget it, nor would it affect me as it had before. At some point it would fade away. It was likely that today it would begin to pass into oblivion...

In the end, I said goodbye to my midnight memories. And, I also said goodbye to my doubts knowing that they would no longer return.