There seems to be so many movies now that express the idea that through some unreachable artifice that one can travel backwards in time. That a portal of some type will open up your entry in the sense of present tense and merge it with eras now long gone and forgotten. For every time someone dies, the sum total of their whole universe of experience becomes extinct. The imperfect arts of writing and film might capture the spirit of the mood and emotions of a tiny slice and in turn outwardly promote the notion of surety of absolute knowledge based of course upon scientific samplings of former test groups. But they cannot even hope to suggest that what is offered is at best mere inference of the reactions to a bygone series of events.
How strange it is that the time of day and the angle of the Sun do often make recollection of former times by inspiring a feeling from deep within he past. A frozen instant in one’s perceptions that exists for no other reason than its incidental viewing made an accidental impression. And now it resides somewhere hidden as might a benchmark similar to an alpha numeric tab affixed to a mental file cabinet of folders containing the many successive experiences of one’s life. A random moment in one’s own childhood can be experienced again by a mere turn of the head. Equally, the other sense might settle upon a long abbreviated sensation that has been previously banished by wear and tear upon the physical being.
The inventory of of ones being upon the microtome of what life has turned out to be fully revealed. And in this unexpected interruption of the present one easily enjoys both past and the instant of now, viscous emotion pouring into this gap like glue. One feels both happiness and sadness, wonder and futility, expectation and resignation. One is left with a sense of totality and emptiness. This visitation with former personages now ghosts inspiring the need to resolve one’s emptiness and exorcise those things which can no longer be. The balloon of certainty deflates and drags along the grass along with the uncountable multitudes of Autumn leaves swishing about. For a split second the universe remains fully complete with the experience of so many other things that have long past on so long ago before. No anonymous picture or fictional account can ever hope to match that.