From ages nine through sixteen I lived in an apartment near Lick’s on Queen East. Lots of stuff in my life happened there. It’s all super interesting to me, but it wouldn’t be interesting to you, so I’ll just leave it at that. I walk past it all the time but I can never go inside ever again.
As a result, I have dreams about it literally every night. I will never get over that doggone apartment. I have felt that way about other places, too. For example, all the other places I’ve lived in. And I will probably feel that way about the place I’m living in now. They’re all rammed full of memories.
It sucks more than anything to not be able to relive your memories. What also sucks is that the events in your memories were nowhere near as good when they were actually happening. That means a lot of the ho-hum things you do now will be devastating when you remember them, and this is partly why people take cellphone pictures all the time. They want to create a bridge from the stuff they’re doing to the memories they’re going to have.
Sadly, they are only cellphone pictures. People are better bridges than cellphone pictures, but they’re still not great, because people don’t want to be bridges to your memories. They want to do their own thing. Places are the best because, as long as they’re standing, they usually remain as they were when you made your memories in them.
There are only two catches. One, most of them you can never be inside ever again, unless you get rich and buy it from whoever’s living there. I’ve never heard of that happening. Two, evil forces can wrest places from the physical world. For example, my old apartment near Lick’s on Queen Street. It will soon become condos.
I know that my memories don’t trump the people’s need for condos. But it would be nice if I could at least take a tour of the apartment before they tear it down. It would be cool to see the place I’ve been dreaming about for nine years, and it would make me feel less like my memories are dead forever.