I spend an abnormally long time in REM sleep and far too little time in deep sleep. So I'm always tired, and I remember lots of dreams. It's not good. I don't know if I have more nightmares than usual, but I remember more.

When you look through old photo albums, it brings up memories of shit you had COMPLETELY forgotten. Little things, like that odd wallpaper in a house you once rented, or the little outfit you now recall a long-dead relative made for one of your children. A dress you used to wear. A food you used to cook but haven't made in years. And you realize you've forgotten a lot of things, both good and bad.

But you can't remember everything. You can retain, at best, a highlight reel.

I am about to get new dishes. The ones I have are ancient and faded and, I recently learned, likely leaching lead. My son said he doesn't remember us ever using any other dishes. I tried and failed to recall what the old ones looked like. Then I asked my daughter. She doesn't remember, either. Hundreds of meals were eaten on them, but none of us remember what our dishes looked like. I could probably find a picture of some old family dinner and find out if it actually mattered, but it doesn't.

My sister just passed away, and it occurs to me that now I'm the only person who remembers a lot of stuff from our childhood. The rest is gone forever, just as the details of millions of other people's lives are gone forever. Damn it.