Echoes.

As I lay down to sleep, sometimes I find myself unable to calm my mind. I lay in the darkness as my body falls off to sleep, my mind racing on. In this state I hear echoes. I've learned in my brief courtship with psychology that memory is tied intricately with all of the senses. Yet I'm never able to remember conversations clearly enough to pull them back from my mind. I wonder if that's normal sometimes. It's actually quite a problem in arguments. But when I'm in this between state of awareness I hear memories. Echoes. Never full phrases. Perhaps two or three words. And they're not related in any way. It's not like the word bunny leads to a voice saying carrot. It's completely out of my control, which also scares me. It reminds me of the random neuron firing theory of dreams. Where the brain fires strangely during sleep, and the mind organizes it. But that's not what this is.

I'm awake.

And the voices are people I know. That's another thing, I don't remember voices. It's almost as if these disconnected words and voices are the echoes of memories that never fully anchored themselves. I know that when a sound is heard, the mind can play it back a few times before it fades. But these are clear as day. They jump. One after another. Through time. I can feel myself trying to make sense of them sometimes, which is odd. I am listening. I am also generating these thoughts. And I'm also trying to make sense of them. But I'm only conscious of the listening part. These echoes remind me of being deep in a tunnel. I hear a sound, but don't know where it's coming from. Or walking down a street, and hearing footsteps behind me. Only realizing that they are my footsteps echoed off of a wall giving the impression of someone behind me. These echoes are my ties to memory. Something I have precious little of.