Ostomy Memories of a Dream

I HAVE THIS recurrent dream where I’m searching vainly for my car in a parking lot. I can’t remember where it is and, if I can’t remember, it’s not there.
Our memory connects us to our past. When memory fails, our past vanishes. It is as if it is a can with a hole in it. We keep pouring water into it, having new experiences. But down at the bottom of the can, where the hole is, the water continues to seep out.
Perhaps the philosopher wasn’t so crazy after all when he asked: if a tree falls in the forest and there is no one there to see it, does it really fall? My question is: if one’s memory of an event evaporates, did the event really take place? The event, after all, a relic of the past, only exists in one’s memory. Once the memory of it ceases to exist, it is gone.
Loss of memory is surely a catastrophic occurrence. It is nothing less than our personal history. When it starts to go, we teeter at the edge of oblivion. I have come to believe that this dream I keep having, searching in vain for my missing car, is a metaphor that represents my dematerializing memory. The dream is a manifestation of my distress at the prospect of losing a part of my humanity.
Don’t worry. I’m not in the early stage of Alzheimer’s disease. I’m just getting old, is all, and I’m reacting in my typically histrionic manner. I’m afraid I’m going to forget Yolanda.

Henry , 

I believe in a dream as looking forward in life .I dream of times in my life that are going to happen . My memories are the times I sit and ponder of what was,a time whether worth remembering or not .Some of my memories I wish never to remember yet my dreams I think upon and they guide me . 
catch those dreams and savor your memories. Think of today as dreams can come true and make more memories that will be imbedded in your mind forever .

Ritz

Hello HenryM. 

I have never had a good memory, so getting old has simply given me a reasonable excuse for this trait.
As for dreams, I have always been able to control my dreams so, if they are heading in a direction I do not wish to go, I simply take another route and all is well.
However, interestingly in recent times, I have had a recurring theme within my dreams that I am ‘lost’, in places that I am unfamiliar with and seemingly there is no logical way to a satisfactory destination. My solution to this problem has been to get up and go to the toilet. Whereupon, I can resume sleeping and start a different dream that I can control.

This is, of course, a concept that has crossed my poetic mind previously on several occasions so, I will share just one of my musing on the subject:

IN MY DREAMS.

I can love, I can hate
and control my form and fate.
Whilst there, I share and innovate,
mend and bend and reinstate.

I go anywhere and do anything,
actor, banker, craftsman, king.
I laugh and cry and sink and swim,
things done without – are done within.

I can raise my self-esteem
and make things ‘be’ how they should seem.
I miss the bliss of wistful schemes,
when once awakened from my dreams.

                                                  B. Withers 1994
                                           (in: Reflections 1998)

No more sleeping on the toilet Bill ! Go back to bed