pyat

While shopping for eggs this morning, I had a rather intense and current memory of watching an episode of Aeon Flux in the attic bedroom of my parent's old house, around 1993 or so. I did not feel as though I were there, and it did not have the characteristic of a hallucination. Just a strong impression of mood that was tied specifically to the experience of staying up late(ish) to watch Aeon Flux

What makes this notable (for me, anyway) is that a similar episode took place in the same grocery store six years ago. I don't usually go to that store, but it's located in my old neighborhood. I expect some unconcious churning of childhood memory is sparked when I'm back in that area, leading to weird little flashes like this.

Either that, or I've discovered a weak spot in the space-time continuum. It makes sense. After all, when I was a kid, that grocery store was a bingo hall. Bingo halls are noted for their ability to bend time, so that 5 hours pass in 5 minutes (and vice versa if you are outside), and turn a cross-section humanity into a smokey room full of people of indeterminate age.

I had a rather miserable day on Tuesday. Heat wave, office nonsense, money worries and the like. Nothing particularly serious, but enough to put me off my game.

When Erin came to pick me up I was rather frustrated and snappy. Erin realized this and gave me some space and time to cool off. However, we’d previously agreed that I’d go grocery shopping after work and I decided to keep to this deal no matter how foul my mood was.

So, I trekked out in the heat with a suddenly malfunctioning car A/C, though it had just been “repaired” on Friday. I pulled into No Frills, the discount grocery store we’ve started going to in order to save money, and spent ten minutes trying to find a working cart. I banged my ankle in the process. My temper was bubbling up like the temperature – it was 33 C.

I started searching for the items on the list – and then a rather unusual thing happened. While I was reaching for a green pepper, I looked out the window at the storefronts along King Street and at the utterly clear blue sky above them. The grocery store is located about 1 km from the house where I spent the largest single chunk of my childhood, and perhaps the sudden realization of this proximity is sparked what happened next.

I had the sudden and very strong impression of being fourteen years old and reading a comic book – specifically, an X-Men comic from the “Fall of the Mutants” story-arc (from 1988, I think), the one where they meet the High Evolutionary in the Savage Land. In fact, I had in my mind the image of a particular panel – a giant flying wolf leaning his muzzle down to greet Storm of the X-Men. “The better for seeing you again,” the wolf tells Storm.

Now, let me state that I was not a big comic geek. I’m pretty sure that was the only X-Men comic I owned until much later in high school. Also, I should assure you that this was not some kind a hallucination – I did not actually think or feel I was sitting in a room reading a comic book. Some strange emotional response to the sight of the storefronts, to the experience of picking up a green pepper, to the relief of working air conditioning in the store… whatever… it triggered a powerful memory. And the memory, and the emotions related to it, banished my foul mood quite effectively.

When I left the store, I noticed only that it was a beautifully clear day, and that the Mountain was looking especially verdant. I thought about comic books, old friends, and the old neighbourhood. I went home and bounced Elizabeth on my stomach for a good 45 minutes, while listening to CDs. Both of us were quite happy.

The end.