The Disintagration of Memory

Yesterday I had a strange and slightly terrifying experience. I was working as a substitute door greeter (contrary to way it sounds I greet people, not doors) at Wal-Mart. I was doing my thing, pulling buggies (or baskets depending on where you’re from) forward for customers and printing return stickers, when I found something in my hand. I looked down at it and saw it was a small stuffed dog, similar to the beanie babies animals that were popular some years ago.
And this is the creepy part: I have no idea where it came from. I had the distinct impression that someone had handed it to me, but my mind had wiped out the memory of them. I couldn’t remember if the person was a man or a woman, young or old. Nothing. Its even possible that no one gave it to me at all, and I just picked it up somewhere. The sensation of knowing an event, even one as insignificant as finding a small stuffed dog, has taken place in the very near past without my having any memory of it is somewhat frightening.
My greatest fear in life is that when I am old I will be diagnosed with Alziemers, and slowly loose both my memories, and my ability to reason. I think that knowing I would loose my mind little by little, bit by bit, might be the only thing that could make me consider suicide.
I guess that’s why this was so weird for me. It was like I got to see a small piece of what my life could be like if that greatest fear came true. And I didn’t like it. Not at all.

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