It was a Saturday morning; the snow was falling and my weather app reported some low temperature with an even lower windchill; yet, I I had a slight feeling of warmth. I thought of the pond with the red roof in the background and the sand under my feet, tickling me with every step. But I wasn't even outside with this memory; I was in my dorm hall.
Have you ever smelled something, and thought of something else, as if this scent was associated with some recollection only revealed through a sense? It's not uncommon; we inhale a certain aroma and our minds wander--it's interesting, too, that our interpretations are often different.
It's funny, though, I don't remember the smell itself; I simply remember feeling like I was temporarily placed back in time; I could see the sun shining, I could hear someone slapping the surface. The air was fresh and soft and comforting; it reeked of summer. The day's date is still ambiguous to me, as well as whatever happened before and after this incident. It appeared as a movie, though I was experiencing it firsthand; it was a dream, perhaps. It was too blurry to be reality, and by that I mean there weren't contrasts anymore. All the once perfect lines were now only movements lost in space and without direction. But, the obscurity somehow enhanced the experience; I could feel the edges of my lips rise and my cheeks heat up. Trust me, I felt something--um, I felt it.
It was the feeling of paradise; my grandparents' pond was one in which I learned to appreciate the water (though I began swimming in a pool, the pond was, and still is, a much happier experience for me). I couldn't see what was under my feet; the murk and depth suggested monsters, all of which I searched for. This was a place for me to learn how to dive and explore; a pool is simply an enjoyable training session.
So, yes, I find it very interesting that I can experience a memory through a smell. It's sporadic too, which is sort of better because I'm easily entertained by impromptu daydreams. It's basically an escape from reality with the promise of return.
I just read a text by Raymond William, titled, Television: Technology and Cultural Form, in which he explained his theory of Planned Flow. He believed that in television, there is a scheduled flow of commercial and program; both of which use each other as means of making the viewer want to continue watching for a longer period of time. I've mentioned this author and his ideas because television commercials can be an analogy for my spontaneous daydreams; the breaks in my day help make the course of the day as fluid as possible.
Have you ever smelled something, and thought of something else, as if this scent was associated with some recollection only revealed through a sense? It's not uncommon; we inhale a certain aroma and our minds wander--it's interesting, too, that our interpretations are often different.
It's funny, though, I don't remember the smell itself; I simply remember feeling like I was temporarily placed back in time; I could see the sun shining, I could hear someone slapping the surface. The air was fresh and soft and comforting; it reeked of summer. The day's date is still ambiguous to me, as well as whatever happened before and after this incident. It appeared as a movie, though I was experiencing it firsthand; it was a dream, perhaps. It was too blurry to be reality, and by that I mean there weren't contrasts anymore. All the once perfect lines were now only movements lost in space and without direction. But, the obscurity somehow enhanced the experience; I could feel the edges of my lips rise and my cheeks heat up. Trust me, I felt something--um, I felt it.
It was the feeling of paradise; my grandparents' pond was one in which I learned to appreciate the water (though I began swimming in a pool, the pond was, and still is, a much happier experience for me). I couldn't see what was under my feet; the murk and depth suggested monsters, all of which I searched for. This was a place for me to learn how to dive and explore; a pool is simply an enjoyable training session.
So, yes, I find it very interesting that I can experience a memory through a smell. It's sporadic too, which is sort of better because I'm easily entertained by impromptu daydreams. It's basically an escape from reality with the promise of return.
I just read a text by Raymond William, titled, Television: Technology and Cultural Form, in which he explained his theory of Planned Flow. He believed that in television, there is a scheduled flow of commercial and program; both of which use each other as means of making the viewer want to continue watching for a longer period of time. I've mentioned this author and his ideas because television commercials can be an analogy for my spontaneous daydreams; the breaks in my day help make the course of the day as fluid as possible.