Time stands still here. You have to push it aside to move. Hours, minutes, seconds; they hang suspended in the air like discarded toys.
Wading through, I reach a dark room. There I find some frozen memories. I pick up my very first, and let it wash over me.
I am two years old, Mom’s voice is soothing in my ear as I look down at the dark swirling waters of the lake.
Suddenly, Mom screams in surprise—then terror, as she falls and disappears into the water. Papa just stands there with a blank face.
Then I wake up screaming!