Well I've thought about this and don't know what to write. There's a lot on my mind about all this. But I find it interesting about remembering things about the Rom or where exactly it was in the house, the bed or where it was, the house, etc. I don't remember much else besides this. And well other things I was told or maybe made up. This was the time when I was 3 so I don't remember too well and I can't believe this one little thing is responsible for the rest but who knows. It was a loss of innocence, I don't care if he wasn't an adult or that he was only five years older or whatever. This and then the made up story when I was 15. I remember exact things about the story but I don't know if it became real in my mind because I told it so much and rehearsed it. Or if parts of it were real. Or if the "story" was really displaced or converted abuse so I didn't get certain other people in trouble. But I do remember very specific things. And I don't know if they were real or not. The mattress behind the shed. The red wall of the church next door. The light in the drive and parking lot and on the back porch. The bathtub that I may or may not have used at one point maybe after. There's other times that I have not felt real. That life or the world around has not felt real. There have been times where I have been out of my mind. Where things feel real but also not real. Times of not feeling anything and numbness too. Sometimes these things, most times, have been in connection to something traumatic happening. But I was older and old enough to remember. I also remember exactly where in the yard I was, though not my exact age (just know I was a young girl), when I was fantasizing about rape and being rescued. I even think I remember who I was playing with - an older girl who lived down the street from me. I don't know what all this means, only that it's there. These memories. They are present here and now in my conscious memory. But I agree that memory is a shifty and fickle thing. Not very reliable for things like this.. I don't want to believe that these things happen at all. Or that they may have happened to me.