Welcome to Gaia! ::

I think that a lot of times if we have good or bad memories as a child they become distant as our lives change and we grow older. As a result we begin to feel like it was a dream, not really knowing if it's real or not. I know that I used to have this amazing childhood friend. She was my best friend ever, we never argued and we hung out every day. A lot of times I wonder if those memories are real because there doesn't seem to be any real truth that it existed.

i have a simliar problem.....my dad used to beat on my older brother.....well.....as you said before it seems like it's not real but for some reason im not sure if it is or not.....but the reason it is is becuz when u try to forget about something but then want to remeber it years later you wont be able to....

So now that I know it's possible, I have another question. Is there any way to make the memory clearer so that I'll know for certain whether it was real or not?

Thank you Kat. It makes me feel better to know that I can openly talk about it here without people telling me that what happened is my fault. I feel like that sometimes. I guess I'll give writing it out a try.

I think I was 5 when it happened. I was at the neighbor’s house, the one only a few houses down from mine on the same side of the street. I walked there. I think someone might have walked with me. I remember the hallway near the entrance of their house. Well, sort of. I only remember it being as long as the one in my house. And at the back of the house is a basement/back section thing. There was no wallpaper or carpet. The walls were cement. It was a little cold. There were 2 doors in the room. One leading from the hallway, and one leading to outside. There was a bench/table that was in a corner. I was standing beside it. There was someone standing in the opposite corner of the room, watching me. It was a man. For some reason I want to substitute his face with my brother’s, but I know that can’t be right. This man is older. I remember I was laying on the table. I remember at one point not having any pants on. And I remember repeatedly hearing the word ‘touch’. Oh, God, I remember his hands. They were like my father's. Definitely a man's hands. (I don't mean to say that my father ever touched me, but this just made me realise why I'm so uncomfortable with his hands on my skin). And after that I only remember leaving through the back door and swearing to myself that I wasn’t going to tell my parents.

Sorry about the long paragraph. Anyways, I guess I'll update this whenever I remember anything else. Hopefully I'll eventually be able to put it all together.