Music is the key that opens the door to the past

People say that living in the past is a bad idea. That you will just be living in a world that doesn’t exist anymore. A place of past experiences full of summer memories that will never happen again. A place full of memories that you want to re-live. It can be compared to watching a romantic movie or reading a fictional book. A world that seems too perfect, a place of fantasy. People say that the past is a place where you don’t want to be, a place that will do you no good..

Memories can be triggered by just about everything and anything. The most mundane of things can trigger a great memory so strong that you get engulfed completely. Transfixed one could say. Or transformed into a world that no longer exists.

I think that music has the greatest effect on this. It is the single greatest trigger at least for me. There are instances when you’re in just the right mood for passage into this magical land we call memory when all you need is that right song. That one set of cords streaming from an electric guitar, the powerful serenading of harmony reaching your ear drums, the soft yet loud melodic melody.

It gives you no warning, no sign of approach, it hits you without the slightest care in the world for what you are doing at the time.

Sitting at my desk, trying to finish reading my 3 chapters of my “Buildings Across Time” architecture textbook, thoughts creep into my mind. Thoughts about people I’ve encountered aver the course of my life so far. People I was friends with, loved ones here and gone, lovers that have been lost to the wind. I sit here just thinking about these different people and how they have affected my life. I decide to open iTunes, click on shuffle and boom… the perfect playlist for traversing my personal memory bank. Shuffle just seems to know exactly what I need to listen to depending on my mood. Mostly power ballads from the 80’s the occasional 90’s boy band song. But one memory seems to over power the rest:

Lying in bed with an ex, waking up on a Sunday morning in the summer. Rolling over to see her still asleep in my arms, hair a mess, wearing my shirt. Me being just awake enough to wrap her up in my own arms yet still being tired enough to fall back asleep next to her; each of us wrapped up in on another’s arms. The warm embrace that has the ability to completely relax every muscle in your body, The sheer comfort.

I know that sometimes when we dream about the same thing over and over, it means something. That there is something unresolved, something not dealt with. I’m not really sure because I’ve never really had that ever happen to me. At least from what I can remember anyway.. But I wonder does the same thing apply to unconscious thoughts that appear without acknowledgement and warning? Maybe it means nothing. Maybe this is my minds way of dealing with the current sleep-deprived state that I’m in.

I just don’t know.

But what I do know is that I’m not going to think much of it; I do not have the time for this. It is not about the readings of Aristotle, Socrates and Plato on the philosophical nature of architecture. The many temples, churches, cathedrals and their designers. Different people places and culture that give us the great buildings across time (textbook name drop).

It is nice to think back once in a while and reminisce about the past, but not for long because you will get lost in a world of false realities and in a world that does not exist.