Deja Vu

So no real big news to report except for this strange uncanny feeling I received this morning. Michelle and I were cleaning out the rooms after the guest had taken off, and as we were working on the second room Kirk came flying back above the lodge. As Michelle and I began to hurriedly clean so we wouldn't be in the rooms when they returned, I wondered frantically about all the reasons they were returning so soon, they had only left maybe an hour previously. Racing from one side of the room to the other, I picked a bath robe from off the floor and proceeded to try and hang it and then it hit me. 

Deja Vu. The whole thing, the robe, the room, the lake, the Beaver (float plane) all of this had been experienced before. This was not a new moment for me but one that I was repeating. I searched my mind for something that gave reason to the feeling, but being in such a new place I was at a loss, until the memory came sliding into my frontal cortex. It was in a dream I had many years ago about some pilots and planes coming back home early from something as I hurriedly tried to finish what I was doing. It is seriously uncanny how vivid and accurate the dream was to reality. I must have dreamt sometime in Portland the first time or when I had just moved back to Logsden. 

I had to post something about it or I'd forget it ever happened, like so many memories that have fallen by the wayside because I have failed to keep them alive with such passionate remembrance. The mind, such an amazing thing. I had always hoped it was more like a filing cabinet, where I could have realizations that would be nicely filled in such a way that when needed it be readily on file to either explain my behavior or help support the reasons behind my behavior, but I find that to be less and less accurate the further I get away from previous realizations (well, except for 'don't touch the stove because its hot' that one really has stayed the same). I find things I have written or painted that I find hard to believe that I came up with let along did. 

Once the art is out of the mind, does it ever really belong to you? Art just an abstracted version of a conversation with oneself.