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Latent Fetal Memory

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News and Events
by Brian Weilert

Doctor, I appreciate you working me in to listen.  The thing is…I keep having this reoccurring dream.  I am into that sort of thing; figuring out what they mean…even read a few blogs on the issue…such as flying and falling dreams…so I kept trying to interpret what this one could mean…maybe I was stressed at work because I was so busy and I felt two of me would have been better.  Or maybe that my best friend recently took a job near Kansas City and I was just lonely…but each night for nearly a week it became more and more vivid until I thought, perhaps it was a deeply recessed, latent memory of something from my actual past.   I pray it is not, for it is true…I murdered my twin.  The dream goes like this:


When I first open my eyes, I see a reflection of myself.  Of course, I didn’t know it was a reflection of me as I had no sense of what I looked like…only at a much later time would I realize this.  His eyes are closed; I say it was a he because we had the same appendage sticking out between our legs.  I would later know this as a penis and still later, name it Fernando and have grand adventures.  I can tell you I thought him handsome; my twin...not Fernando. I did have a sense of what was pleasing to my eyes.  Strong jaw line and nearly a full head of jet black hair.  I reach up to trace the lines of my face…following along with my eyes on my wombmate’s face, discerning if we indeed were the same.  Moving my finger to my very pinnacle, the luxurious mop atop my own crown, I discover a troubling fact, well troubling at the time; I am deformed.  Again, what was and was not normal is irrelevant when you notice a giant soft spot on your head.  My frantic, frail hand swooping side-to-side…hard then, shit, there it is, soft; a gaping gap at the very tip of my being.  I look over at the other fellow; he is still asleep-although I had no concept of exactly what sleep was.  I could not resist reaching up to feel his head…hard then soft.  The poor bastard is deformed also.  In that instant, we form a bond, or rather I do, as there he peacefully sleeps unaware of our misfortunes.  Since I do not want to damage myself, though there would be no way of knowing it would cause damage or even what damage was, I take my strong finger…I had five on each hand for a total of ten, even though at that point I would have not known how to count...the one next over from the odd shaped one, which I would later discover to be my thumb…I take that finger, the pointer finger and poke it into the soft spot of my new found buddy.  I am amazed at the fact that not only does he not wake, but that my finger penetrates all the way in.  All the way.  I can now relate it to pushing into a latex glove pulled taunt over a Mason jar but at the time I had no concept of latex and Mason jars.  What I know is that it is tactually pleasing and I repeat the act several times.  The repetition comforts me and well it just feels really cool…although recognition of what was and was not cool came much later in my life when I discovered Aviator sunglasses.

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