Please allow me to make a confession: I like the horror genre of games and movies. Note that I say horror and not necessarily gore. I actually enjoy the rush from identifying with the lead character's psychological torment and the complex yet oh so simple nature of fear [1]. As such, I get a kick out of the Silent Hill series of games which focus on a single player character's trials as they journey through their own guilty psyches in a custom-made limbo [2] around the terror town of Silent Hill. The games are designed with an amazingly eerie atmosphere of sights and sounds that remind you that you are so utterly alone [3]. The other night I decided to kick back and partake of Silent Hill 2 and I began to reflect on my childhood.
My current read is What Your Childhood Memories Say About You by Dr. Kevin Leman so the connection was not that big of a leap. Leman's basic premise is that your childhood memories can provide a basic look at your private logic as you essentially hold on to memories for specific, personal reasons. This is why I can't seem to remember for what I drove to the grocery but I can tell you about the time when I was four that I left a grocery store with a woman who looked like (but was not) my mother [4]. He also works in some great discussion of nature and nurture, focusing on how the nature leads to the specifics of nurture and how birth order can affect personality development [5].
Two of my earliest childhood memories [6] seem oddly reminiscent of the Silent Hill series. The first happened when I was about three or four. I was playing on my parents' unmade bed and slipped. Fortunately the sheets caught me before I busted my head open; unfortunately, I became trapped in a cocoon of those very same sheets. After squirming for a bit and deciding I was thoroughly trapped, I started shouting for mom to come and let me out. She never came. I continued at higher and higher volumes (and pitches) until it all seemed quite hopeless.
In the Silent Hill series, you're usually alone in the town. Sure, there may be other 'people,' but they are generally unhelpful and not the best company. The foggy city with many blocked paths and gratuitous use of fences provides the perfect atmosphere to make you fell isolated, trapped, and quite hopeless.
It was at that point, while wrapped in a pouch of sheets, that something in my young mind developed: "If I'm going to get out of this, then I will have to do it myself. I can't rely on anyone else to do it for me. It's up to me to solve my own problems - to find my own way." I then worked on a method of guess-and-check to figure a way out of the sheets. After who knows how long, I was free. I then found mom in the next room, completely oblivious to my prior plight [7]. Leman points out that only children typically have memories of "fierce independence" that are "often without anyone else in them" as well as "fearful memories" with themes of "making mistakes" and including "plenty of detail." Sounds like my memory in a nutshell.
The point of my memory, however, is that it awakened a necessary independence in me that has persisted to today. I typically solve my problems on my own and approach life's issues with an analytical mind. I also tend to apply that mind to help others. I have an "if it is to be, it is up to me" mentality that often leads me to take up tasks to help others without being asked (sometimes good, sometimes bad). For example, a few years ago I took over the sound and media at a church plant at which I was leading youth when the actual sound guy failed to show up the fourth week into it. It's about three years later and I'm still helping with sound at my current site's youth and adult services. I had to teach myself at first and eventually received some actual training. I will confess that it's not exactly something I like to do, but it is something I understand is necessary and will do as needed. We had a meeting this past Saturday and our head of media talked about needing to have a calling to that ministry. I guess I received my call back in that tangle of bedsheets. It's my natural inclination to independently jump in and try to fix things.
The other memory is actually a recurring dream (or nightmare) I've had since I was four [8]. In the dream, I'm stuck in this house. It seems very clean but very barren. No one else is visible. When I try to look out the window, I can't - as if there's nothing to look at. I know that the house has white siding but I never see it (odd thing to know but never see). I keep trying to find an exit and explore the house but I never find one. In one part of the house, which is filled with light through all of the windows, there is a dark room (with no windows). I try to go in and see what is in there. As I do, I get this horrid feeling like I'm not alone and then I feel like I'm moving. Suddenly, it's like the lights pop back on and I'm right back where I started in the entrance hall. I'm trapped and alone, but I'm not alone.
I'm sure a psychologist could find many things to comment on here but in the game Silent Hill: Shattered Memories, Harry Mason (the game's protagonist) at one point goes through such a room. It's like the developers scavenged my brain to find the most terrifying memory from my past. This memory sticks out to me because of the unease felt in the isolation. Going lucid didn't help. Even when I would stay and wait in the lighted rooms of the house, it was almost as if the dark room would seek me out and draw me into itself. The house was always unfamiliar and it seemed to change itself when I wasn't looking [9] so the dark room could show up right around the next corner or right behind me.
I can't say I've learned much from that dream other than I hate feeling trapped and I hate being messed with. It's somewhat like the movie Cube or the game Portal (or the Silent Hill series). Come to think of it, most of the games and movies I like seem to allow me to vicariously relive and, potentially, triumph over this nightmare. Hmmm . . .
Isn't it fun to self-analyze?
What are some of your childhood memories?
Heads up! I'll probably revisit this topic a few times. It's a good book.
[1] This may be due to or why I am such a fan of The Twilight Zone.
[2] Or Hell, depending on your interpretation.
[3] But not as alone as you wish you were.
[4] Thankfully she didn't want to take a little boy home for keeps but she did have ice cream in her bags so I probably wouldn't have minded.
[5] He seems to have me, my dad, my mom, and several others I know pegged in regard to his birth order theories. If you're looking for a birthday gift for me, I'd love to read his full book on birth order.
[6] Don't worry, they won't all be shared here.
[7] I have forgiven her for this. The radio was on and the kitchen window was open, allowing the screams of youth soccer to fill the house.
[8] Most likely one of the nightmares that was brought on by a head injury I received at daycare that led to many years of EEGs, CAT scans, and seizure fears.
[9] Think of the stairs at Hogwarts.
