By Brandy Brow
Every day is a new game. Today, I must choose the real bedroom.
The sparse one beckons—nothing confusing—but the other’s ugly bedspread makes me pause. Objects indicate occupancy; that this bedroom’s real. I frown. I don’t want it.
“Help!” I call.
A woman comes. Her face isn’t familiar, but I feel we’re connected, important to each other somehow. Suddenly my mind clicks and I’m the most myself I’ve been in forever. I know her. Then I remember. I’m transient.
I grasp her arm. “You must understand,” I blurt before I vanish again into no one. “Sometimes I know you.”
This is a sweetly/maddeningly taunting/haunting story. Bravo.
This is very poignant, given the title of the story.
It may not have been intended, but that sounds very like Alzheimers. Well described.
Very much indeed. Thank you.
I hadn’t heard of Lewy Body Dementia until your story, so I didn’t have the title as a clue – just your description.
I’m glad my story raises some awareness about LBD and that you were able to get the gist of the story without knowing about it. Thank you very much for commenting.
Super good!
Oh full of beauty, of pain and of
Lewy truth.
Thank you very much, everyone. I took care of a family member who was afflicted by Lewy Body Dementia. This story is the result of a dream I had where I was the one with dementia. It helped me understand what it was like for my loved one.
Masterful, terribly sweet and sad. Thank you.