This is a short piece I wrote for a creative writing class. The exercise was to keep starting sentences with "I remember" until you ran out of ideas. I decided to be a bit more specific than that, but these are all things I actually remember...

I remember the railways which ran silent over shiny marble floors so that you had to climb to get into the carriages. I remember all the trains and boats and planes I ever ran for, and panicked, and inevitably missed. I remember packing my bags in preparation for the apocalypse.

I remember the floods, night after night when my natural world was drowned in water which I learnt to breath as if it were air. I remember the waterways, the ones under the city which joined and rejoined through dripping stone arches, disused viaducts hung about with green ferns and ivy, honeysuckle and bindweed. I remember swimming, naked and clothed, with my friends flying like birds in water.

I remember looking in the mirror to see myself a red haired Venus, to see myself a man, to see nothing. I remember looking at my bodies with pleasure whatever they were. I remember looking for the truth in the glass, but knowing finally that I would never recognise the answer even if it presented itself to me.

I remember that for some utterly inexplicable reason I can never run forwards, only backwards, but that going backwards I can pick up quite a pace.

I remember my adventure being a film where I didn't know the words until they left my mouth. I remember my adventure being a game where I didn't have a real gun but had to make do with pointing my fingers. I remember that people fell down when I pointed at them, anyway.

I remember the nights when I woke up and my lover stabbed me, when I woke to find a disembodied arm with a hand at either end lying across my stomach. I remember when there was no horror except the simple fact of false awakening. I remember waking once thirteen times, struggling to throw off the layers of horror so that I could escape my bed.

I remember the times I died, and felt no pain. I remember the bullet travelling toward me, lazily turning end over end in the air. I remember being crushed by the walls coming in on me, but feeling only triumph that I had that courage. I remember refusing to fight, offering my life.

I remember all the arguments I won, my opponents convinced, my moral high ground assured. I remember the arguments with my mother, when I woke tired and angry, frustrated to find she had not said the things I had raged at her for.

I remember travelling with my friends around Europe and being the only heretic among them. I remember the vans we drove in and the worlds we visited and the pleasures we enjoyed. I remember my lover and how he offered me his friendship.

I remember the City of travellers whose name is the Midst. I remember the oasis in the desert outside. I remember riding in an aircar, seated next to a fat man whose name eludes me, and entering the Imaginary College through a window.

I remember flying over herds of dinosaurs. I remember the carnivores, and running from them and hiding in places too small for their heads to reach. I remember them mainly with pleasure, though they would have eaten me if they could.

I remember levitation, and how to steer yourself in mid-air. I remember the secret names that are written on the stones of the City. I remember the story of the snake god and his brother of the corn, I remember the polite way to turn away a dream at your door.

I remember learning to use a gun. I remember being buried under the earth. I remember trying to read and the words turning to random letters as soon as I looked away.

I remember all I learnt of the art of writing a book in a world where the plot is fluid and the words change each time they are read. But I lie, of course. This last is the one thing I can not remember - and the one I most wish I did.

Last updated 29th November 1999