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There's a lot missing. There has to be. My situation and my knowledge regarding my situation do not mesh, there's no connection between now and a specific past. No context.
I've explored this completely dark room, found no window, nothing like a light switch. Nothing responds to voice commands, or I don't know the correct commands. The mattress upon which I woke a while ago rests on the floor, with no bed frame. There's a plastic bucket in one of the four corners of the room, which i'm guessing is for temporary storage of my waste products ... I have a mild need to piss but haven't done it yet, I know I'm not used to pissing in buckets. I know that toilets exist and how to use them.
There's nothing else in the room, and the room isn't much bigger than needed to fit the mattress, the bucket, and me. I cannot reach the ceiling, the walls are far enough apart that I can stretch out completely, but there's not enough room to walk around.
I think I figured out where the door is, because there's a sealed inset the size of a door, but there's no handle, no hinges on this side of it, a hard rubber seal keeps out light and probably muffles sound, because I can't hear any sounds I'm not producing myself. There's probably an air outlet in the ceiling, I hope, I can't feel one in the wall or floor.. I presume there's a light source up there, perhaps a camera, but now I'm speculating.
I don't remember how I got here, or why I'm here, and although I do not remember any dreams, I also do not have a contiguous memory or understanding of where I was before I fell "asleep". I have a sense of unconscious time seeping backward without limitation, an expanse of nothingness, as though I've been asleep for days or weeks -- or months? Is it possible to feel my own past in this way? As a tangible yet empty expanse?
So after figuring out what I could about my enclosure, I examined my body. Completely naked, male anatomy. Short or closely trimmed (?) hair everywhere that a male body should have hair. Trimmed finger and toe nails. Not a lot of body fat, not a lot of muscle, but not anorexic. Skin doesn't feel either smooth as a baby or wrinkled as an elder, but why don't I know how old I am? I'm mildly hungry and thirsty -- hunger and thirst levels that don't match the sense I've been asleep for days or longer. Same for my bladder -- not full enough to think I slept through even one night.
OK, I'm becoming more curious about my amnesia. I know a language, I've been thinking using words that I know are English. I have the concepts necessary to investigate and label my surroundings and my bodily characteristics, my bodily sensations. So I've got a dictionary of words and an encyclopedia of concepts. But beyond that there's a muffled and obscured distance between my here & now and my past.
I know neither name, nor date of birth (nor today's date or year), nor Social Security number, yet I feel I should know these things, that it would be normal for me to know these things. It's a type of amnesia where I know of the sorts of things I should know, yet do not know these things. Where was I born, who are my parents, where did I go to school, who are my friends? I should know these things, but I do not. How do I know I should know these things? I'd guess this is the 21st Century, unless I've recently experienced time travel, so I have general concepts of human history and my basic orientation within this history.
That's the weird part. Having a structure of knowledge that must have come from somewhere, but I do not know from where. Having a body that must have come from somewhere. Understanding that I've been imprisoned -- kidnapped -- incarcerated -- but having no memory of this happening or clue as to why. I understand that this is not normal. I should have family, friends, an occupation, a bank account, a gym membership. I should. I feel like I most likely do have these things.
I'm aware of the concept of amnesia, even the idea there are different kinds of amnesia, because there are different kinds of memory, such as short-term and long-term. Wait ... I have a memory of my mother having temporary amnesia once, and I had to take her to the emergency room. OK, I did have a mother. Or do. Is she alive? What is her name? I only have this one image of her right now.
And now I remember having amnesia before myself. After I was in an accident. I'd been riding a bicycle to my friend's house, and was hit by a car, and woke up in the emergency room with temporary amnesia. But that was different from now. I'd been knocked unconscious by a bodily trauma, and coming out of that trauma was very different from waking up here. I didn't know my own name for a while, though. An attenuated return to consciousness from unconsciousness, as various parts of my brain took time to spin back up.
Another time I had a sort of temporary amnesia, I'd been out clubbing with friends, took a lot of party drugs, and came to on my bathroom floor, also in the dark like now, with a striking lack of knowledge of how I'd gotten there or for how long I'd spent on the hard tile floor. But then I found the light switch, and my two friends were in my bed, so the lack of context didn't last long.
I'm currently feeling no sense of physical trauma, no hangover. My lack of context is static, with no improvement as I stand here. A lot of memories I should have are just missing, but now I've found a few memories from what feels like decades ago that lack much detail. Memories about amnesia, because I'm thinking about the amnesia I must have.
Weird, an amnesia that wipes out memories of everything except some prior experiences with amnesia. As though whatever caused this amnesia had a blind spot with respect to amnesia itself. Or maybe my missing memories will eventually return as I find the correct stimuli for them. Think about dogs and I'll remember my dog? Er ... no ... maybe I don't have one? Never had one? Or maybe she's outside that door, waiting for me to remember how to open the door. Everybody's just waiting for me to remember how to open the door. That makes no sense. Now I'm imagining family and friends and pets I never had.
I'm wearing out (what's left of) my brain with all this -- as though trying to remember memories that simply aren't there causes a form of mental exhaustion. As though there's an energy cost to remembering a memory, but trying to remember a missing memory drains the battery. Or floods the engine. But I know a brain is neither a battery nor an engine. I'm engaging in arbitrary metaphor.
I don't think I was a neurologist. I don't know enough about how my brain is supposed to work to figure out what's not working. But I seem to have a high verbal IQ. Maybe later I can try doing some math.
OK, lie down. Take some breaths. Try to relax. Not in any immediate danger. It's possible I've been thrown in here to dehydrate and starve, but I have no evidence of this yet. I wonder whether they're watching me on an infrared camera.
Wait ... infrared vision ... I have infrared vision. I'd forgotten. I just have to turn it on. How do I have infrared vision? Humans don't have infrared vision!
Oh, wow ...
I've explored this completely dark room, found no window, nothing like a light switch. Nothing responds to voice commands, or I don't know the correct commands. The mattress upon which I woke a while ago rests on the floor, with no bed frame. There's a plastic bucket in one of the four corners of the room, which i'm guessing is for temporary storage of my waste products ... I have a mild need to piss but haven't done it yet, I know I'm not used to pissing in buckets. I know that toilets exist and how to use them.
There's nothing else in the room, and the room isn't much bigger than needed to fit the mattress, the bucket, and me. I cannot reach the ceiling, the walls are far enough apart that I can stretch out completely, but there's not enough room to walk around.
I think I figured out where the door is, because there's a sealed inset the size of a door, but there's no handle, no hinges on this side of it, a hard rubber seal keeps out light and probably muffles sound, because I can't hear any sounds I'm not producing myself. There's probably an air outlet in the ceiling, I hope, I can't feel one in the wall or floor.. I presume there's a light source up there, perhaps a camera, but now I'm speculating.
I don't remember how I got here, or why I'm here, and although I do not remember any dreams, I also do not have a contiguous memory or understanding of where I was before I fell "asleep". I have a sense of unconscious time seeping backward without limitation, an expanse of nothingness, as though I've been asleep for days or weeks -- or months? Is it possible to feel my own past in this way? As a tangible yet empty expanse?
So after figuring out what I could about my enclosure, I examined my body. Completely naked, male anatomy. Short or closely trimmed (?) hair everywhere that a male body should have hair. Trimmed finger and toe nails. Not a lot of body fat, not a lot of muscle, but not anorexic. Skin doesn't feel either smooth as a baby or wrinkled as an elder, but why don't I know how old I am? I'm mildly hungry and thirsty -- hunger and thirst levels that don't match the sense I've been asleep for days or longer. Same for my bladder -- not full enough to think I slept through even one night.
OK, I'm becoming more curious about my amnesia. I know a language, I've been thinking using words that I know are English. I have the concepts necessary to investigate and label my surroundings and my bodily characteristics, my bodily sensations. So I've got a dictionary of words and an encyclopedia of concepts. But beyond that there's a muffled and obscured distance between my here & now and my past.
I know neither name, nor date of birth (nor today's date or year), nor Social Security number, yet I feel I should know these things, that it would be normal for me to know these things. It's a type of amnesia where I know of the sorts of things I should know, yet do not know these things. Where was I born, who are my parents, where did I go to school, who are my friends? I should know these things, but I do not. How do I know I should know these things? I'd guess this is the 21st Century, unless I've recently experienced time travel, so I have general concepts of human history and my basic orientation within this history.
That's the weird part. Having a structure of knowledge that must have come from somewhere, but I do not know from where. Having a body that must have come from somewhere. Understanding that I've been imprisoned -- kidnapped -- incarcerated -- but having no memory of this happening or clue as to why. I understand that this is not normal. I should have family, friends, an occupation, a bank account, a gym membership. I should. I feel like I most likely do have these things.
I'm aware of the concept of amnesia, even the idea there are different kinds of amnesia, because there are different kinds of memory, such as short-term and long-term. Wait ... I have a memory of my mother having temporary amnesia once, and I had to take her to the emergency room. OK, I did have a mother. Or do. Is she alive? What is her name? I only have this one image of her right now.
And now I remember having amnesia before myself. After I was in an accident. I'd been riding a bicycle to my friend's house, and was hit by a car, and woke up in the emergency room with temporary amnesia. But that was different from now. I'd been knocked unconscious by a bodily trauma, and coming out of that trauma was very different from waking up here. I didn't know my own name for a while, though. An attenuated return to consciousness from unconsciousness, as various parts of my brain took time to spin back up.
Another time I had a sort of temporary amnesia, I'd been out clubbing with friends, took a lot of party drugs, and came to on my bathroom floor, also in the dark like now, with a striking lack of knowledge of how I'd gotten there or for how long I'd spent on the hard tile floor. But then I found the light switch, and my two friends were in my bed, so the lack of context didn't last long.
I'm currently feeling no sense of physical trauma, no hangover. My lack of context is static, with no improvement as I stand here. A lot of memories I should have are just missing, but now I've found a few memories from what feels like decades ago that lack much detail. Memories about amnesia, because I'm thinking about the amnesia I must have.
Weird, an amnesia that wipes out memories of everything except some prior experiences with amnesia. As though whatever caused this amnesia had a blind spot with respect to amnesia itself. Or maybe my missing memories will eventually return as I find the correct stimuli for them. Think about dogs and I'll remember my dog? Er ... no ... maybe I don't have one? Never had one? Or maybe she's outside that door, waiting for me to remember how to open the door. Everybody's just waiting for me to remember how to open the door. That makes no sense. Now I'm imagining family and friends and pets I never had.
I'm wearing out (what's left of) my brain with all this -- as though trying to remember memories that simply aren't there causes a form of mental exhaustion. As though there's an energy cost to remembering a memory, but trying to remember a missing memory drains the battery. Or floods the engine. But I know a brain is neither a battery nor an engine. I'm engaging in arbitrary metaphor.
I don't think I was a neurologist. I don't know enough about how my brain is supposed to work to figure out what's not working. But I seem to have a high verbal IQ. Maybe later I can try doing some math.
OK, lie down. Take some breaths. Try to relax. Not in any immediate danger. It's possible I've been thrown in here to dehydrate and starve, but I have no evidence of this yet. I wonder whether they're watching me on an infrared camera.
Wait ... infrared vision ... I have infrared vision. I'd forgotten. I just have to turn it on. How do I have infrared vision? Humans don't have infrared vision!
Oh, wow ...