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Childhood Memory

Sid

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MrHermolle, is it possible that the stream was actually run off from the farm ? And you were playing in contaminated water, hence the orang mud? This could explain why the other boy warned you off, as he would have been told not to play there by his father.
Sounds like it might well have been (depending on where you live/d), a fumarole, especially as you were warned off?
 

catseye

Old lady trouser-smell with yesterday's knickers
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In Transactional Analysis they call it rubber banding. The theory is that each memory is attached to an elastic band, and something similar or familiar in the present pulls on the elastic band thus triggering recall.

I don't very often remember my dreams, and the ones I do remember are ones I was having when I've been prematurely woken up, for example if someone rings the doorbell. We tend only to dream whilst in REM sleep, and if waking naturally, we pass through shallower stages of sleep where the memory of the dream fades prior to us waking up fully.
But quite a lot of us DO remember our dreams well past waking, and even for years. I wonder why this would be. Some dreams, as you say, fade completely on waking. Others, even if we wake naturally, stay for maybe half an hour once we've woken, and others stick in the memory totally. There's no advantage to remembering dreams, so why don't they ALL fade?
 

catseye

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Away from the original topic perhaps but I have an odd childhood memory, going back 40 years to when I was 10. At the back of our house we were living in was a farmers field on a slightly lower level to the garden. At the edge of the field was what seemed to be a marshy ares full of long grass. I remember being fascinated by the sound of running water - a stream I couldnt see? One day the fence was down and I got to explore this marshy area. Thete was indeed a small stream flowing from a culvert that came from under the garden. In my memory the stream was narrow but quite deep , leading off from this there was a deep trench full of weird orange mud. We played there for a couple of weeks until the farmers son (our age) came over and said we would be in 'serious trouble' if we were caught playing there... So we didnt and the fences soon got fixed anyway. The whole memory seems unreal and dream-like. No-on else in my family remembers this area anf the stream. Met up over the weekend with my next door neighbor for the first time since the 80s. He bought up the stream as well - I spoke to his parents whp have no memory of the stream either. Seems its just me and him. But its odf how such a small thing has becone such a vivid memory - more important than what the memory should be. My old 10xt door neighbour felt the same too - he was only 5 years old at the time as well - I was 10. Ive looked on Google Maps too and theres just a farmers field - no sign of a stream or a grassy area. Maybe it got filled in - but the whole memory has a heavy strangeness about it.
It wasn't a septic tank overflowing, was it? The whole 'marshy area' sounds a bit like what happens when a septic tank gets overfull, and your memory may have created a proper stream from what was trickling overflow.
 

Sollywos

Studying for finals of Grumpy Old Lady degree.
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MrHermolle, is it possible that the stream was actually run off from the farm ? And you were playing in contaminated water, hence the orang mud? This could explain why the other boy warned you off, as he would have been told not to play there by his father.

Ah ha! As I posted on an earlier thread concerning childhood memories. :)
I do like this thread and hearing about other peoples childhoods. :)

Here's a tale about one of the times when us kids in the village had what we termed 'the muhst a fun' ie far better by a wide margin than mere fun! Oh yes, a day to stand out in the memory of happy carefree childhood days.

I grew up in the middle of rural East Anglia and we a had, by todays standards, a wide area to play in. The rules were; keep all gates as you found them, don't go into a field with bulls, don't stand on the crops, don't cross the main road, don't accept sweets off strangers and if you find a tramp asleep don't disturb him.

As the season had been wet we were all wearing rubber boots so when we discovered that one of the copses we only occasionally played in had turned into the Amazonian Rain Forest swamp we were well equipped to explore although the water was deep in parts and sloshed over the top of our boots we didn't mind wet feet!

Oh boy that was fun! Logs had become crocodiles, ivy had become exotic creepers, there were loads of strange looking fish floating around. We felt like real explorers even the common birds took on a specialness. It felt like a 'location' slip such is the power of childrens imaginations. We were at it all morning going off in smaller groups and trying to scare each other. We arranged to all meet after dinner (ie the midday meal). and so we would have done as we weren't tried of the game at all.

However when our mothers got whiff of it they all flew 'hooley riled'* and put a stop to it! We were all 'inta wrong' (ie shouting trouble not smacking trouble) Quite out of proportion compared to the usual grumbling if we'd got a bit muddy and wet!! Oh dear why do parents always have to spoil the best fun??? What had we done wrong? Hey we were fearless explorers we'd discoverd something magical right in our very village we felt admiration was due not all this crossness!

*This was the expression I used at the time. In retrospect 'went ape shit' would have been more appropriate. You see what we'd actually been playing in all morning was the overflowing cesspit from the recently build council houses!!!!

Oooops!

Solliywos x
 

Mr_Hermolle

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It wasn't a septic tank overflowing, was it? The whole 'marshy area' sounds a bit like what happens when a septic tank gets overfull, and your memory may have created a proper stream from what was trickling overflow.
It could well be something like that. Maybe not a septic tank but something connected to some kind of overflow system. The stream did come out from a small outfall pipe / culvert that came from the houses. Was a pretty constant trickling over the year I lived there.
 

Mr_Hermolle

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MrHermolle, is it possible that the stream was actually run off from the farm ? And you were playing in contaminated water, hence the orang mud? This could explain why the other boy warned you off, as he would have been told not to play there by his father.
This also makes sense - particularly the orange mud. The stream did flow from a pipe that came from our houses / gardens.
 

Ghost In The Machine

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One of my kids was talking about his earliest memories, the other day. And he said he wasn't even sure if it was a memory, or something he'd dreamed or made up, but he had this vivid image of himself on a London bus with his birth dad, and the bus braked suddenly and he hit his head on the metal bar on the seat in front. He was certain this hadn't really happened. iIn fact it totally did, but given the place etc it has to have been before he was 2. I wasn't with him but was told about it afterwards. Son was a little shocked it had actually happened.

Another thing he vividly remembers is sitting in his birth dad's kitchen, up on a counter, eating birthday cake (he was being held on to!) He nearly choked on the cake. Again i also remember that vividly and he would have to have been no more than 2. Yet another one he remembered was being with me on a train and screaming and screaming - again, he thought this was a false memory or a dream and hadn't really happened. It did. But he'd have been a baby, maybe not even 2.

Pretty sure he has the most vivid childhood memories because of all my kids, he was the best and earliest at languaage acquisition. Memories are probably linked to being able to think in language, as well as pictures? Naver saw anything like that kid in terms of how early he spoke and how huge his vocabulary was, at a really early age (fluently talking at 18 months or so, IIRC). By contrast, 2 of his brothers had unusually late language acquisition - one didn't speak til he was 4, (autism), the other til he was 5... Neither of them remember vivid snapshots so far back as the son who was the talker.
 
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