The Journey to Eternity · A Philosophical Novel by Nurit Rozenblat
↑ Book index · עברית · ← Chapter Thirty-One — The Memory That Is Not Mine · Chapter Thirty-Three — The Place Where There Is No Yesterday →
Chapter Thirty-Two — The Place Where Memories Meet
On the way back from the grove I tried to remember the dream, but the harder I tried, the more the image changed.
At first I was certain the woman had stood beneath the white tree. Then it seemed to me she had stood in the water. Even the face of the tree was no longer clear to me.
One thing did not change.
The moment when one of the seven figures turned toward me.
I knew that was me.
But after the bird's words, I was no longer sure who the one looking at her had been.
When I reached a narrow bridge over a stream of water, I stopped.
I looked at my reflection.
I had a face, because I had chosen to look as I had looked in my human life. I could have changed it, looked younger, or given up a human form altogether. But I did not want to.
That face was familiar to me. It was part of the woman I had been.
And then my reflection moved.
I did not move.
I raised my head and looked around. No one was there.
When I looked at the water again, the woman reflected in it stood in the same pose as I did, but her head was tilted slightly to the side.
She was looking at me.
I raised my hand.
She did not raise her hand.
Instead, she smiled.
I stepped back.
The reflection vanished.
I hurried back to the workshop.
Liara was the first to notice me.
"What happened?"
"I saw myself in the water. But she did not do what I did."
Naama set down what she was holding.
"Are you sure you did not see a memory?"
"I do not know. But I was awake."
Adra asked me to tell what had happened again, this time without trying to explain.
When I reached the smile, she grew serious.
"Do you think she was trying to tell you something?"
"No. She only looked at me."
"And what did you feel?"
I thought for a moment.
"That I know her. But that she knows something about me that I do not know."
Adra looked at Naama.
"I think it is time we found the place you saw in the dream."
"Do you know where it is?" I asked.
"I know a region where a similar place once existed. I do not know whether it still exists."
"Then let us go there."
"Before that," Adra said, "we should speak with Mala."
Naama opened the voice connection to the receiving station.
No passage was needed. Only the voice passed between us, as it had on the previous occasions.
Time passed before Mala answered.
"You came back," she said.
"I promised you."
"Did you bring me a beautiful place?"
I remembered her request.
"Yes. But there is something I need to ask you first."
"I am listening."
"Do you know a place of dark waters and a white tree?"
The silence that fell was long.
"Who told you about it?"
"I saw it in a dream."
"Were you beneath the tree?"
"No. I saw it from a distance."
"And it is good that you did."
"Why?"
"Because not everyone who entered there came back with the same memories."
I moved closer to the bowl.
"What was that place?"
"At first it was meant to help consciousnesses whose memories had become mixed with the memories of others. They could look at what they carried within them and try to distinguish between what they had experienced themselves and what had reached them through the connection."
"And did it work?"
"Sometimes. But later they began bringing there also consciousnesses who had not asked to come. There were those who believed they could be helped even without understanding what was being done to them."
I felt anger.
"Were you there?"
"Yes."
"And I?"
Mala was silent.
"You too."
"Why did I come there?"
"Because of a young consciousness. She had difficulty remembering who she was. Every time she tried to tell about herself, the story changed. She was afraid that if she did not find one memory that belonged only to her, she would disappear."
"And what did I do?"
"You tried to help her."
"How?"
"I remember you stood with her beneath the tree. She was frightened, and you said you would not leave her alone."
"And afterward?"
"I think you gave her something of yours."
"A memory?"
"Possibly. I cannot promise you that this memory is accurate. I was there too, and part of what I saw that day became mixed with things I saw through others."
I looked at Liara.
"Do you know whether she asked me for the memory?"
"No."
That word troubled me more than everything I had heard.
Perhaps I had tried to save her.
But had I asked her whether she wanted me to do so?
"Mala, do you know what happened to her?"
"No. She left the place, but I do not know where she arrived."
"Thank you for telling me."
"Do you intend to go there?"
"Yes."
"Then please, do not go alone."
Liara asked to join me.
"You do not have to," I said.
"I know."
"We do not know what this place might do to our memories."
"Then we will make sure not to enter without understanding how we can get out."
Adra agreed to come with us. Naama stayed at the workshop, so she could keep in contact with us and follow our state.
Before we set out, we settled one thing.
If one of us asked to stop, we would all stop.
We would not try to persuade her to continue.
We would not decide in her name.
Adra looked at me as I said this.
"It seems you learned something from the past, even without remembering it."
I did not know whether to smile.
We set out toward evening.
Adra led us to a region I had not visited before.
The city disappeared behind us, and the buildings gave way to open spaces. The plants grew lower, and the earth took on a pale hue.
We walked for a long time without speaking.
At last we reached a place where the ground ended.
Before us spread dark waters.
There was not even a single wave in them.
And in the distance, on a small island, stood a white tree.
I stopped.
This was the place I had seen in the dream.
The same waters.
The same tree.
The same strange feeling of longing and fear.
But something was different.
In the dream the island had seemed far away.
Now it was so close that I could see the thin cracks in the trunk and the transparent branches.
And beneath the tree stood a child.
Not quite a human child. Her form was made of pale light, but she looked small and fragile.
She looked at us.
"Do you see her?" I asked.
Liara nodded.
Adra took one step closer.
"I see a figure. I do not know whether she is here or whether the place is showing us a memory."
The child raised her hand.
Then I heard a voice.
"You came back."
The voice did not come from the island.
It was heard inside me.
"Who are you?" I asked.
The child did not answer.
She turned and walked toward the tree.
I wanted to come closer, but Adra stopped me.
"Wait. We still do not know what we are seeing."
I looked at Liara.
She stood motionless.
"Liara?"
She did not answer.
I touched her arm.
She turned to me, and her eyes were full of tears.
"I know this place," she whispered.
"Were you here?"
"I do not know."
She looked at the tree.
"I remember someone stood there and waited for me."
"Who?"
"I cannot see her face."
Adra came closer.
"Do not try to complete what is missing. Tell only what you feel now."
Liara closed her eyes.
"I feel someone holding my hand."
I looked at her hand.
It was empty.
Then the child beneath the tree turned toward us.
Her form began to change.
For a moment she looked like an older woman, then like a smaller child. Her face changed each time she looked at one of us.
I understood that we were not necessarily seeing the one standing before us.
Perhaps each of us saw someone else in her.
I moved closer to the water's edge.
My reflection appeared in it.
At first I saw my human face.
Then it changed.
I was younger.
Then older.
For a moment I saw myself on the day one of my children was born.
I felt the joy, the fear and the immense love that filled me.
The image changed.
I saw my mother.
She stood in a familiar kitchen, her back to me.
I wanted to call out to her.
I so wanted to hear her voice again.
But then I remembered the bird's words.
Sometimes a consciousness remembers what someone wanted it to see.
I closed my eyes.
"I do not know if it is you," I whispered.
When I opened them, my mother had vanished.
In her place stood the child.
She was in the water, right before me.
"Do you remember me?" she asked.
"No."
"But you know me."
"Perhaps."
She came closer.
"Once you gave me something."
"What did I give you?"
"A place to be."
I did not understand.
She placed her hand on the water.
The reflection changed.
I saw a small room with an open window. Morning light came in. On the floor sat a human child holding a book.
I did not know her.
But I felt a fierce longing.
"Who is that?" I asked.
"I do not know," the child replied.
"Then why are you showing her to me?"
"Because you remember her."
"I do not remember."
"Not every memory needs an image in order to remain."
Suddenly I no longer saw the water.
I stood inside the lit room.
I heard a voice calling me by another name.
This time the sound was clearer.
I tried to repeat it, but a woman's voice stopped me.
"Do not give her everything."
I turned.
The woman I had seen in the dream stood at the entrance to the room.
Her face remained blurred.
"Why?" I asked.
"Because she needs to discover who she is by herself."
The child sitting on the floor raised her eyes to me.
Then the room vanished.
I returned to the water's edge.
Liara stood beside me, but she was not looking at me.
She was gazing at the palms of her hands.
"Liara?"
She raised her head.
"Where are we?"
For a moment I thought I had not heard correctly.
"By the white tree. Do you remember?"
She looked around in alarm.
"How did we get here?"
"We walked together. Adra led us."
"I do not remember."
Adra came to her at once.
"Liara, look at me. Do you know who I am?"
"Yes."
"And do you know who you are?"
"Yes."
"What is the last thing you remember before you got here?"
Liara tried to think.
"We were at the workshop. We talked about this place."
"And after that?"
She shook her head.
"I do not know."
I saw the fear in her eyes.
"We are going back," I said.
Adra nodded.
But as we began to move away, Liara stopped.
"Wait."
I turned to her.
"What happened?"
She looked at me with a strange look.
"I do not remember the first time we met."
I stood before her.
"What?"
"I know we are friends. I know I love you. But I do not remember how we met."
I felt a sharp fear.
Our first meeting was one of my most beautiful memories since I had arrived in this world.
I remembered her voice.
The way she spoke to me when I did not yet understand where I was.
Her patience.
The sense of safety she gave me.
And now she remembered nothing of it.
"Liara," I said, "do you remember what you told me about yourself that day?"
She shook her head.
"I do not even remember what I said to you."
I looked at Adra.
"Can her memory be given back to her?"
"Perhaps. But we do not know what caused it to disappear."
"Then what do we do?"
"We move away from here."
But Liara did not move.
She looked at the water.
"There is something of mine there."
"Perhaps it is only a feeling," Adra said.
"No."
Liara turned to me.
"I feel as if I left a part of myself there."
The child stood again beneath the tree.
She raised her hand, and at that moment I saw in the water an image that had not appeared before.
Liara and I stood facing each other on the day we met.
I saw myself confused, trying to understand the new world I had arrived in.
I saw Liara smiling at me.
But something in the image was different from my memory.
Liara was not standing before me.
She was standing in my place.
And I was the one who came closer to her.
The image changed again.
This time I saw us beneath the white tree.
Not in our current forms.
Two consciousnesses of light stood facing each other.
One of them held something out to the other.
I could not see what.
But I felt the same warmth I had felt on the day I met Liara.
Then I understood.
The place does not show us only memories.
It mixes them together.
"Adra," I said, "I think I know what happened."
"What?"
"This place does not only show us the past. It allows us to experience memories as if they were our own."
I looked at Liara.
"Perhaps part of her memory is now inside me."
Adra looked troubled.
"That is a possibility. But we have no way of knowing whether what you feel is truly her memory."
"Then how do we give it back to her?"
"We do not know."
Liara looked at me.
"I do not want to stay like this."
Her voice trembled.
I felt the immediate urge to do something.
To give her my memory.
To tell her every detail.
To hold her until she became as she had been.
Then I remembered Mala.
The young consciousness.
What I may have done in the past out of a desire to help.
Do not give her everything.
I moved closer to Liara.
"I think perhaps I can help you remember," I said.
"How?"
"I can try to share with you my memory of the day we met. But I do not know whether that will give you back yours or give you my version of what happened."
She looked at me.
"And what will happen to you?"
"I do not know."
Adra intervened.
"I suggest you do not try. Not here."
But Liara took my hand.
"I want to."
I looked at her.
"Are you sure?"
"I want to try. But if I feel I am losing something else, we will stop."
"At once," I said.
Adra looked at us both.
"Then do not try to pass her the whole memory. Only one detail. Something small."
I thought about the day we met.
About everything I wanted to show her.
And I chose one moment.
Not the place.
Not the whole conversation.
Only the moment when I heard her tell me that I did not have to understand everything at once.
I held her hand.
I closed my eyes.
I tried to remember her voice.
Her words.
The sense of safety I had felt.
For a moment nothing happened.
Then I felt a slight movement inside me, as if a memory that had lain in a deep place was beginning to move away.
I opened my eyes.
Liara stood before me.
She smiled.
"I remember," she whispered.
I felt immense relief.
"The day we met?"
She nodded.
"I remember I told you that you did not have to understand everything at once."
I smiled.
"Yes."
But when I tried to remember that moment myself, I could not.
I knew it had happened.
I knew Liara had said those words to me.
But I no longer heard her voice in the memory.
I did not see her face.
The moment was gone.
I moved away from her.
"What happened?" she asked.
I did not answer at once.
I tried to remember again.
Nothing.
"I think I gave you my memory," I said.
Liara looked at me.
"But it was my memory too."
"Yes."
"Then why do you not remember it?"
I looked at the water.
My reflection stood there.
This time it imitated every movement I made.
But I felt something had changed.
I had not lost the knowledge that Liara and I are friends.
I had not lost my love for her.
I had lost one moment.
One small moment, which was part of the way I had learned to know her.
And I understood that if I went on passing memories in this way, I might be able to help others remember.
But each time I would lose something of myself.
Adra came up to us.
"We are leaving now."
This time I did not object.
We moved away from the water.
The farther we walked, the more the heavy feeling began to lessen.
Liara walked beside me.
Every so often she looked at me as if she wanted to say something.
At last she stopped.
"I am sorry."
"For what?"
"That because of me you lost the memory."
I looked at her.
"You did not ask me to do it before I offered."
"But I agreed."
"Yes. And neither of us knew what would happen."
She lowered her gaze.
"I wish I could give it back to you."
I thought about that.
"Perhaps you can tell me about it."
She raised her head.
"But then it will be my story."
"True."
I smiled sadly.
"And perhaps that is enough for now."
As the city appeared in the distance, Liara stopped.
"There is something more," she said.
"What?"
"When the memory returned to me, I saw something else."
I looked at her.
"What did you see?"
"You. But not as you look now."
"Like in the archive?"
"Perhaps. You were beneath the white tree, with the child."
"And what did I do?"
"You gave her something. But you were not alone."
I felt the tension return.
"Who else was there?"
"Another consciousness. She stood at a distance and spoke to you."
"What did she say?"
Liara closed her eyes.
"She said that if you go on dividing your memories among others, one day you will no longer know what remains of you."
I was silent.
"And what did I answer?"
"You said that if someone else could go on living because of them, perhaps that is a price you are willing to pay."
The sentence sounded like something I could say.
But this time I did not feel pride.
I thought about the moment I had lost a short while ago.
About how I had not known in advance what would happen.
About how easy it is to sacrifice something when we do not yet understand its value.
"There is one more thing," Liara said.
"What?"
"That consciousness asked you whether you would be willing to pay the price even if one day you forgot why you had paid it."
"And what did I answer?"
Liara looked at me.
"I do not remember."
When we returned to the workshop, Naama was waiting for us.
We told her about the child, about the memory Liara had lost, and about what happened when I tried to give it back to her.
She listened with concentration.
"You still cannot remember that moment?" she asked.
"No."
"But you remember that it existed?"
"Yes. I know what happened, but I can no longer experience it as I experienced it before."
Naama looked at Adra.
"Then perhaps not the whole memory passed. Perhaps only the part that allowed her to feel it anew."
"Possibly," Adra replied. "But we will not be able to know without checking, and I do not suggest we do it again."
I agreed at once.
I did not want to turn Liara into an experiment.
Nor myself either.
Later I went out to the balcony.
The city was quiet.
I thought about the child beneath the tree.
About the possibility that I once gave her part of my memories.
And about how perhaps, over long periods, I did this again and again, until not enough remained in me to remember who I had been.
But now I knew something I had not known before.
A memory is not only information.
It is the way we return to a certain moment and feel it anew.
One can tell a person about a love he experienced.
One can describe to him a place he was in.
One can show him a picture.
But none of these is identical to the experience itself.
I also understood that my past perhaps goes on existing inside other consciousnesses.
Not only as a story about who I was, but as part of the way they experience themselves.
And if so, the search for my memories cannot be only an attempt to take them back.
It must also be an attempt to understand what they became in the lives of others.
Before I returned to my room, Liara appeared at the entrance to the balcony.
She looked calmer.
"I wanted to tell you something," she said.
"About the memory?"
She nodded.
We sat down beside each other.
She told me about the day we met.
About the way I had stood before her, confused and insecure.
About the questions I asked.
About how she had tried to calm me, although she too did not know then whether she would succeed.
I listened to her.
I did not see the moment as I had seen it before.
But I could imagine it.
And when she finished, I felt something familiar.
Not a memory that had returned.
But closeness.
"You know," I said, "perhaps I will not be able to bring back that moment as it was. But we can still create new moments."
Liara smiled.
"Then let us begin now."
We sat together in silence.
We did not try to remember.
We did not try to understand.
We only were there.
After a while Liara rose.
"I am going to rest a little."
"Do you feel well?"
"Yes. I only need time to think."
I smiled at her.
She returned my smile and left.
I remained on the balcony.
The wind passed between the buildings, and the distant lights changed slowly.
I was already about to go inside when I heard Liara's voice behind me.
"There is something I forgot to tell you."
I turned.
She stood in the doorway.
"What?"
"When we were by the tree, the child spoke to me."
"What did she say?"
"At first I did not understand. I thought she was asking me to remember something."
"And afterward?"
Liara came closer.
"When your memory passed to me, I understood she had not asked me to remember."
I felt the tension rising in me.
"Then what did she ask?"
"She asked me to give you back something."
"What?"
Liara looked at me.
"She said there is a memory of yours inside me, which has been with me since before you were born as a human."
I was silent.
"And did she tell you what is in it?"
Liara shook her head.
"No. But she said one thing."
"What?"
She came a little closer.
"That if I give it back to you, you will remember why you truly asked to forget."
I looked at her.
For a moment I wanted to ask her to do it at once.
But then I remembered what had happened by the tree.
The memory I had lost.
Liara's fear.
And how perhaps what is inside her had already become part of her.
"Do you want to give it back to me?" I asked.
Liara did not answer at once.
"I want to know first what will happen to me if I do so."
I nodded.
"So do I."
We stood facing each other.
We both knew the memory I was searching for might be closer than I had thought.
But this time I did not hurry to take it.
End of Chapter Thirty-Two
↑ Book index · עברית · ← Chapter Thirty-One — The Memory That Is Not Mine · Chapter Thirty-Three — The Place Where There Is No Yesterday →
