valarltd: (pagan)
[personal profile] valarltd
So I was watching this movie...


We were watching THE SECRET OF ROAN INISH. I kept tearing up and getting all sniffly, in ways that had nothing to do with the lines or the plot or anything. The kids rebuilding the cottages got to me.

I was cooking when it hit me: I lived in one of those cottages, a low whitewashed stone thing with a thatched roof. My wife cooked bannock on an open hearth like that. We loved children into existence on a straw-tick mattress supported on a rope-spring bed. We laughed much and loved deep and I drowned in the cold North Sea.


It's not the first time I've had that. There's a mountain in the Pyrenees, and I know it well, although I've never been and only seen it briefly since. Or the time I identified all of my father's vacation photos, without knowing his itinerary or having been there myself. One doesn't forget Connemara, not even for death.


It's odd having memories that aren't mine.
Any advice? Any help?
Am I just having hyperimagination?
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