Recent Pasts

Some fantasies have particles of our everyday real lives in it, rather, I would say many do. Something that happened some time makes us think about what could happen at some other point. And many fantasies take off from here. I say this because Megan is one of our easier fantasies, created in a lighter mood, to be talked about when we are in a easier spirits, someone who perches on the handle of the armchair we sit in, crosses her legs, strokes away a strand of hair from our face behind our ear. Other fantasies, like Megan, are not entirely created..not by us at least. They develop themselves, -----St. P and my role being to give them the initial push. So it is always, with Megan, with darker thoughts. I have been thinking about fantasies which cast a slight shadow on my thoughts even as I stop to consider them. This is true of specific situations. When the fantasy is not a person, but a possibilty; and when the dust of real life that make up part of the fantasy were not from too long ago, but immdeiate enough to overwhelm you.
St. P might know this, I think he calls this 'the moment which has passed' phenomenon. Sometimes there are phases one remembers, perhaps a week, perhaps two months or four months, ---days that really happened, which are vivid in memory. Conversations which really took place. And it made you think. Sometimes one thinks ambiguously without knowing what to think, but with a lot of feeling. There are times like that. The air is charged, there is a certain kind of tension which is altogether pleasant, and then a wet wind seems to sweep over the period and all the tension and excitement and the feeling of 'something is in the air, something is going to happen' are washed out in one moist wipe and all is calm thereafter. And you look back and you know even if you are sitting in a tram or bus months afterwards, that the moment has passed, and the full import of the loss of what you had or what you might have washes over you. It has happened to me many times. Though it isn't big in the mathematics of things which really happen, the weight of losing a possibility is enormous. It feels like a heavy stone. But this is the funny thing about not so faraway pasts. The moments haunt me but they also unfold into mini-fantasies after a point, hour by hour, blossoming by themselves on the busride back home of their own accord, sometimes without even needing their creator to help them. And a point comes when by the natural laws of fantasy world, the mini-fantasies are checked, like too much insecticide sprayed on young plants. Not all fantasies die a violent death, some just get boring and you discard them or forget about them after a while. But if it was not very very long ago, then Megan's cousins can give you a lump in the throat. It's like the end of a nice day you sit down at the net and see the picture of someone kissing their new girlfriend on facebook or something, so new that you don't even know who the girl is. And afterwards, when you speak to your sister on the telephone you might say that the day was not nice or that you feel low without really having a reason, all because of a moment you lost.