What's the first thing you remember? I remember I was around 2 or 3 being in an upstairs area at night and my older brother making a shadow monster on the wall and scaring me shitless. Ben
My first memory was: One morning I came to the table and the gallon of milk was green. I was 2 or 3. It must of been St. Patricks Day, but I didnt know that at the timePlease Register or Log in to view the hidden image!
re; first memory My first memory was my grandad, i did not have a dad he pissed off before my birth, but my grandad ,i was about 2or 3 i saw his false teeth in a glass, and him smiling, did i run? Y.E.S.Please Register or Log in to view the hidden image!
(Good Topic) If I close my eyes, it's like it happened yesterday. I was in the 1st grade and found a little bird on the asphalt under a tree. It was all translucent and pink with darker spots where the eyes were. Its little body was trembling and I could see that it needed help. I picked it up and put it in a napkin and carried it carefully to the nurse's office at school because I thought that she would be able to help it. I explained to her what I had found and she extended her hand to take it from me. Then she tossed it right in the trash beside her. I peered in over the rim of the container to see it's little body lying there. And back up at her face that met my gaze, and then dismissed me. My mind was reeling. She didn't care and she didn't even bother to conceal it from me. I knew that she would not let me retrieve it from the trash either. I remember walking away very slowly wondering if she had just thought that it was just too small to save. I also remember wondering if she would think I would be too small to save if I got hurt. Peace.
I remember being in my baby bed, with high barrs, trying to climb out, waging on the edge and finally falling down on the floor. Then sitting there feeling confused looking at my parents huge ( in my eyes) bed. Please Register or Log in to view the hidden image! I don´t know how old I was but I couldn´t walk, but I could stand.
Excellent thread! I was about 2 or 3 and I was in a hospital bed of some sort, which I shared with my younger brother (1 year younger than me), who was sleeping at the time. I remember a nurse coming into the room and sticking the poor kid with a syringe and then leaving. My brother bawled his head off and I remember thinking and feeling bad that I couldn't help him. I have no idea why we were there (haven't followed this up with my parents) or why the nurse didn't stick me as well. Thanks! prag
My first memory is a dream. I´m watching myself sleeping in my yellow crib. The sleeping me is squirming in nightmares. In a "thoughtballoon" above the crib I see the dream. It is a white space where a batterydriven blue and red robot is walking forwards with singleminded determenism. This is very scary for sleeping me. I don´t know how old I was. It´s the first thing I remember though Please Register or Log in to view the hidden image!
I recall vividly an illogical recursive dream that I'd have frequently. I'd be rearranging marbles (or just objects) on some surface, but every time I'd approach 'completion', the view would zoom in, and I'd be back at the beginning. Each time around I genuinely felt I could succeed and end the torment. However, this never happened and I'd only end the dream by walking up. I now suspect that the dream must have been an artifact of the torment of neural formation during my formative years (I use the word torment for poetic effect only). I'm not sure when this dream took place. Besides that, I recall waking in a crib with cats crawling all over me. As I may have noted before, I'm pretty sure I was largely raised by cats.
I remember a few things I remeber riding around in my tricycle that was shaped like a Harley (was my brother's before mine) and having my friend push me so I could go faster without pedaling. Next thing I remember is getting off the tricycle and I see this toddler running towards me....this toddler was having his diaper changed but he had taken off in the middle of it...and his butt was still full of crap---everywhere....and it was running down his legs....totally gross, man, and he kept coming towards me as his mom chased after him....and the little brat SAT on my tricyle!!!!! Please Register or Log in to view the hidden image! Please Register or Log in to view the hidden image! I was pissed for WEEKS! In fact, even though I'm laughing now, it still kinda ticks me off! Please Register or Log in to view the hidden image!
I have a few memories frommy first few months. I recall going to the clinic for those baby vaccinations, still in nappies. I recall playing with a family friend's baby, me and her both in nappies. I recall my first icy-pole (frozen flavoured stuff on a stick) in the pram in the back yard at maybe seven or eight months old. At three I was sitting in the hospital waiting with my older brother and older sister while my little brother was being born; they brought him out for us to see, where we sat. All these things I have confirmed with parents and others who were there at the times.
My first memory was a dream of being alone in my house... I was maybe 2 or 3 and I was alone in my house there was a noise that grew louder and louder. I barely peered over the window seal to see a horde of dragons coming down the road towards my house! I ran through the house looking for anything to help me and finally gave up as the house was empty and there was no sign of life at all. I went back to the window shed my skin to reveal a dragon and went out to join the horde. In the horde I found my true family... Ah the wonders of a troubled childhood! Though I am pritty sure that was the first time I laughed smiled and had fun too... I remeber telling my brother the dream at the breakfeast table and being told to stop such nonsence by my mother... The next night I dreamed of dragons again, and I didnt fear them as I was taught I should, not even at their most threatening... was fun really...
Crawling Hurts Knees Do you ever see a baby crawling on hands and knees smiling like it doesn't hurt? I can't swear this is a memory rather than a dream, but I think I remember starting to crawl, off a rug onto a wood floor, and it hurting like the dickens. They said I used to get around by my own unique method, not hands and knees, so it must be a memory. :bugeye:
My first memory is of me taking some of my first steps walking from my mom to my dad. I can remember a wood floor, white walls, and an almost empty apartment with only a chair in the room we were in. I can remember the huge smile on my dad's face and sounds of encouragement from my mom. Thanks for making me think of that again. It's been quite a while since I had remembered that.Please Register or Log in to view the hidden image!
Good ol' TV My first memory is crystal clear -- it's of a television show. I must have been about 3 years old (we lived in Nebraska, so I had to have been at least 2 and a half, but no older than three and a half.) I was watching Sesame Street (I know because I've seen the same episode since), and they were showing a segment on trains or something. The last shot of the sequence was of a man hanging off of the back end of a caboose, silhouetted against the sunset and waving at the camera. Before he started to wave, I had waved at him (at the TV screen), so when he waved, I thought it was at me. I got all excited and ran into the kitchen to tell my mom. I don't ever really wonder why that sticks as my first long-term recollection. I've spent years since then bonding with the television. Good, quality time with my third parent. No wonder I'm never homesick.
My first memory is a long, connected series of dreams- so intense that they most likely wiped out all of the memories beforehand. I was 3 years old- Well, it starts off in a field in front of a large brick house. I am led to believe that my grandmother lives there, yet I cannot be sure because from the outside, this house looks as if it is on the shore of a teeming ocean of horror- not standard horror- but horror that for me has come in the form of textures and slow noises ever since this dream. Inside this house, my mom and my little brother (and me of course) are led into a large white auditorium which, instead of seats, houses small, faceless ice-cherubs playing with small white balls. At the very end is a large white bed with a polar bear skin on it, and we stay there at th head of the room for awhile, just staring at them. I am then walking down the front stairs of this house, and the walls are covered with some sort of red, gilded 'design'. To my right is a large glass case built into the wall, with lion figurines in it. There is a volcano, and I press a red button to make it spout on the lions. It is mirrored; reflected. The lions appear to be covered in lava millions of times over. They melt. Across the hall is a place I know about immeadiately, yet both dread and look forward to entering- it's a secret room with no door that only I can go through- in it is nothing but a small table with my Aunt Connie seated at it, and rows and rows of large, talking rubber plants. My aunt appears very lonely, and I feel as if I could sit at that table with her, but I can't. There is one chair, and while I feel somewhat capable in this room, the rubber plants scare me. I leave this room knowing i have been irrecovably changed; in essence, a microcosm of the entire dream. The last of the very important sequences inside the house is the most incredible to me- something so plainitive, so silly, yet so ultimately chilling that I cannot escape it even today. There is a room so simply relevant that it is what forms the basis for my existence- it is a small, brown room, not unlike the insides of a torn apart cardboard box, filled with small children, mostly my cousins, and something else. There is a garrison-type structure near the top of this room, with a vertical tunnel that leads down into a hole. From that whole emerges, every few minutes, a killer energizer bunny. It must be the most ridiculous thing you've ever heard someone take seriously, but to me, it left a psychological impact that reveals itself when I hear sounds slowed down- I get chills up and down my spine, and am overwhelmed with a deep sense of awe-that somehow the bunny didn't get me- From there we have left the house and are travelling unassissted across miles of country road, passing in particular one stone building tht seemed to impact me- the view of something untouched at the end of childish, yet admittedly deep horror. I stop. I am left without my parents, my brother, my cousins. The country road that stemmed from the house finds itslef ending at a highway. At the end of the road, two men are standing, talking. I know that somehow I must reach them, but I cannot hear them; they appear to me as mere sillouettes. I cannot move, I cannot speak, and then I see what has come to claim me- a large cross between a New Orleans riverboat and a hippo with cake frosting on her. It comes slowly up the road, and as this new type of horror ammasses in my throat, it just goes by me, and on to the highway. I don't know if I got onto it, because there were no seats, but I do remember talking to the men afterwords, finding out one was actually the owner of the house, and the 'boat'. I was never subjected to horror as a child; my world was stable and idyllic. From the patch of bamboo in our backyard to the house that creaked in the wind and cooled itslef in the summer, I had no worries. How I got this dream has always been a mystery to me, and I have, every few years, gone back to it to try to understand it better. My first visit back was probably a few years later; probably in kindergarten. Supposedly, this house had an older worn down house out back, and in it lived (yet another allusion to pop culture) Dracula. A group of small children and I were travelling around in this house, trying to find him. I did not know the children, in my mind we had more or less a business relationship. The rooms were very small, and we travelled up staircases, through dark rooms and over bridges to find him, but he was there. One room had been the landing of the stairs, but had been turned into a massive closet with 3 ft. high ceilings- you had to go down stairs, over something, and through a door and have to peel away a panel to get to it. Perhaps that had to do with a time when my grandfather showed my the closet of one of the bedroom on the third floor of their house, which I was never alowed to visit. He peeled back a panel in the wall and showed me a dark room filled with insulation and said 'there are gnomes in there. they live everywhere." No, he wasn't senile, just an old guy with an imagination and a sense of humor. In 5th grade, after the 3rd floor had been seriously renovated, I went back to that closet and peeked in, not remembering anything about the gnomes. What I saw was that the panel was off, I thought not until the incident that had just flashed back into my head. In reality, the workers had used it when they used part of that eavespace for a bathroom. But I felt as if, after all this time, the door had never closed- and I didn't want to close it. I had red chalk on my hands at the time, and pressed my palm against the wood. To this day, the panel has never been closed, except when we locked my cousin in there to scare him. he found another way out, but I was scared as hell that somehow, the imperfectly implausible world of gnomes had taken him in. The last time I ever saw this world was last year. The house had shrunk significantly, and was now no more than a sprawling shingle house- yet in exactly the same placement. It had what had been a library plated with aluminum and a tree within a wooden dome, and inside was dark and worn-out. Upstairs was a large hallway that just went,and we went down, until the hallways spilled out into a shopping mall; just "transformed". Running back, I noticed that all of the furniture had been packed, and the lights were getting dimmer. I had never seen this house, it was more the feeling, an indescribable concept, that as I said now shows itself only in the form of long, drawn out noises and rough textures. I found stairs- and knew where they were going up to that same room with the energizer bunny- lots of brown. Up there, the oprganic dome of a ripped, devastated room had become a real room with windows, and all that remained was a lonely figure under a sheet. Probably the bunny. I looked outside the window, and saw approaching armies of elven cretaures. I knew, someohow, just like the boat, that it was coming, and was stuck in a paralyzed indescion of what to do. Then, I ran downstairs, in darkness because the lights had turned off, and ate dinner in total darkness with every living family member I could recall, sort of like a pre-apocolyptic last supper. Soon after we were riding down a mountain road, and all I could see from the distance was the sprawling, burnt out remains of a large stone house- the same one I had first seen back when I was 3. I woke up feeling that somehow I didn't deserve anything I got from the dream, that it was so far removed from me that I was merely visiting it as one of many people who had, and will. Well, if I go back to Mistlethwaite Manor anytime soon, I'll tell you.
Strange. My first memory is also of a dream. While there was no element of horror in it (like Congrats's), some themes were common. It was of a house I could see easily from my window. And in the end I remember leaving the house and wishing I could go back. And one last element (which I think was not in the earliest versions of the dream) was that the dream ended with a "the end" like they have in some older movies. Guess the influence of TV is stronger than I suspect. Please Register or Log in to view the hidden image!
My first vivid memory was when I was three. My two older sisters and I were playing on a lawn near the beach. We were playing chasing and were screaming as we played. I sat down on the ground. I was there for a few moments when I felt pain. I had sat on a jackjumper's nest (they are large ants with a very painful bite that are found in Tasmania). The ants swarmed up my trousers. I jumped up and ran screaming in pain. My sisters thought I was still playing chasings and ran after me. A woman walking down the road realised something was wrong and ran over to me. She saw the ants everywhere and grabbed me and started to pull off my clothes. She told one of my sisters to go and get my father who was on the beach. My father drove myself, my sisters and the lady, who had been bitten several times, to my aunt's house. My aunt got out the Bluebag to put on my bites. I was blue all over as I was bitten about 50 times.
I was 8, I went to Jamaica. There was a giant chess set at the resort with pieces the size of me. I don't remember much before the age of twelve. Thank you concussions!!!! Please Register or Log in to view the hidden image! Please Register or Log in to view the hidden image!
Some of These Are So Funny. Running because of the grandpa's teeth in the glass, ha ha, the kids thinking the ants-attacked girl was still playing their chasing game (sympathy for you but putting that line in about what they thought was great), and a couple more I was going to mention but I'm a gramma now and my lifelong scatterbrain memory can be excused, I hope. What are your favorites?
Shot Meant for Pragmathen? The nurse probably gave that injection to the wrong kid, but you got well anyway. Wouldn't that be funny?
