Echoes in the forest | Minsung

The Lost Mind

Jisung sat in the dimly lit therapy room, the sterile smell of antiseptic lingering in the air, mixing with the faint scent of old leather from the chairs. The room was small, with pale gray walls that seemed to close in on him, amplifying the suffocating feeling that had been his constant companion since that night. He stared at the floor, his foot tapping nervously, the ticking of the clock on the wall marking the relentless march of time.

"Jisung," Dr. Yoon's voice was gentle, yet firm, pulling him out of his thoughts. The therapist leaned forward, her face lined with years of experience, her eyes searching his for any sign of hope or progress. "How have you been feeling this week? Any changes?"

Jisung took a deep breath, trying to find the words to express the turmoil inside him. But every time he tried to speak, his thoughts tangled together, a jumbled mess that made no sense even to him.

"I... I don't know," he finally muttered, his voice barely above a whisper. "I still can't remember. It's like there's this huge blank space in my head, and no matter what I do, I just... can't fill it."

Dr. Yoon nodded, her expression calm, though Jisung could sense her concern. "It's normal to feel frustrated, Jisung. Memory loss, especially from trauma, can be difficult to process. But you've made progress—"

"Progress?" Jisung interrupted, his voice tinged with bitterness. He finally looked up, his eyes meeting hers. "What progress? I can't remember anything from the past six months. My friends... they're like strangers to me now. And every time I look at them, I see this... this sadness in their eyes, like they're hiding something from me. It's driving me crazy."

Dr. Yoon's gaze softened. "Memory is a complex thing, Jisung. Sometimes, the mind blocks out painful experiences to protect itself. But if you're not ready to remember, it might take time. You need to be patient with yourself."

Jisung clenched his fists, his nails digging into his palms. "I'm trying," he said, his voice shaking with frustration. "But it's not just the memories. It's... everything else. I'm having these nightmares, and I wake up sick to my stomach. I keep seeing these flashes—images, sounds—like something horrible happened, but it's all so vague. And every time I try to reach out to my friends, I feel like there's this wall between us."

Dr. Yoon tilted her head slightly, her eyes narrowing in thought. "Tell me more about the nightmares. What do you see?"

Jisung hesitated, the images from his dreams flickering through his mind like a broken film reel. "It's always dark," he began slowly. "I'm in this place—somewhere cold and damp. I can hear voices, but I can't make out what they're saying. And then there's this... pain, in my ankle, like something's crushing it. But the worst part is this overwhelming sense of dread, like something terrible is about to happen, but I'm powerless to stop it."

Dr. Yoon nodded, jotting down notes in her notebook. "These dreams could be fragments of your memories trying to resurface. It's not uncommon for trauma to manifest in dreams before the conscious mind is ready to deal with it."

"But why can't I just remember?" Jisung asked, his voice laced with desperation. "Why is my mind keeping this from me? What am I so afraid of?"

"Your mind might be protecting you from something it thinks you're not ready to face," Dr. Yoon explained. "But if you truly want to remember, you need to allow yourself to do so. You have to let go of the fear of what you might find. Let your memory do its job."

Jisung looked away, his thoughts swirling. He wasn't sure if he could handle what his mind was hiding from him. But the not knowing, the constant fear and anxiety, was tearing him apart.