If you've read the Harry Potter series, you're probably familiar with the Pensieve. For those of you who aren't, it's a magical instrument that Professor Dumbledore frequently uses. It's a bowl filled with a shiny substance that looks like molten silver. The liquid is actually memories. The user extracts a memory using magic (although I pictured it being much less painful) and then places it into the bowl. When the user would like to retrieve the memory, he merely looks deeply into the bowl, and is transported back into his memory in real time.
Dumbledore uses his because he's seen so much and he runs out of room in his head. I would use mine to get rid of the pesky memories; the ones that make you cringe.
I've been having a lot of those lately. Unfortunately, it feels like most of my memories are the kind that make me cringe, although that's probably because nearly 50% of my life is still made up of awkward teenage years. Still, there's nothing I hate worse than being pounced on by a memory that makes me ill just to recall.
If only I had a Pensieve, I could siphon of all those lousy memories, put them in the bowl, and put the bowl in my closet to gather dust. Isn't that really where all those memories should be anyway? Gathering dust?
My life would be so much easier if only I weren't a Muggle.
2 comments:
Amen! But you are right. Time is a great softener. The farther you get from those bad memories, the less they'll effect you. Plus, you start seeing yourself as the kid you were and cut yourself a huge amount of slack. Growing pains. Yuck!
I want one too! But I'd also be sure to save the really good memories that slowly fade. Like playing with adorable children who grow up.
Of course, I want Spiderman's powers, too. Then I could catch my children (and DH) and bring them to me. I could also shut people up very effectively!
Regarding bad memories, I seem to have developed some kind of memory block and forgotten most of the really embarassing things. Then again, being 40-something is great. I just don't care what most people think - I'm happy with me. I hear that happens to old folks.
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