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Entry for 07/31/05 @ 12:45:09 pm
Back in the basement... with another entry in the journal of Walter the Frankenstein monster... and very unsure on how I feel.
As you may or may not have heard, the “Big Foot” hair sample that was test has turned out to be bison fur.(see note from Wylde in the guestbook) Still the legend remains unproven and still people wonder if the BF is out there.
But this only makes it more likely, at least to me, that it was Walter. In the Yukon, a bison hide coat or cloak would be the perfect thing for keeping warm. Just because it is summer doesn't mean that someone would just ditch the coat, right?
Canada was always a place that Walter had wanted to go. He told me that wasn't sure how he knew, but parts of him had been there, parts of him had wanted to go there, parts of him had been born there. I've read about people having memories in their blood, memories of things that happened to people in their family before them, so I guess it make sense the tissues of the body would somehow store a memory of who you are and what you have done.
Ok ... I haven't given this any thought before writing this down, I'm just typing it as it comes to me. But now I really feel bad. Even worse than before. In addition to bringing Walter to life, I have brought to life pieces of so many other lives. Birthdays, holidays, vacations, celebrations, fights, divorce and who knows what else. My teeth grit at the thought. Having all of that coursing through you on a subconscious level? It's really a damn wonder he stayed sane.
Or did he?
The others at the sanctuary always seemed a little less than coherent. Walter and Chauncey were better than most. You could at least carry on conversations with them. Chauncey, like I said before, was always a little dimmer than Walter. Maybe he wasn't dumber. Maybe, instead, he just had less of a threshold against the memories. Jerry always said that Chauncey seemed to have lot of nightmares; probably the memories surfacing while he was sleeping and, later on, even when he was awake. At the same time of attempting to get reoriented into the world, all of the past orientations of himself, all the partial orientations, were getting in the way.
That's it for today. I can't write anymore.
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