Having a non-existent image inside your brain that is so clear it could be mistaken for real HD life baffles me. But one of the strangest thing about memories is how the same person can have different perceptions of one memory.
Recently I looked back at a photo of my sister and I in a zoo about ten years ago. The photo was emotive, i could see clearly the pain and sadness we were going through. And although I was not a petite child i could see how fragile myself and my big sister looked. My big tough sister who at that age i rarely saw cry. The girl who acted up but defended me fiercely. Never had I thought of her as helpless but there was a shade of vulnerbaility in that photo.
We were standing self consciously; so close together. I was dressed headed to toe in various shades of light blue (my dad probably helped coordinate that outfit!) with a smile that only a child could muster.
Previous to seeing the picture I did not think of that period as particularly sad time of my life. But looking at that picture changes my perfeption of that time. I realise there were more emotions than I could not handle at that age. So i broke the emotions down whichever emotion I felt in the moment. Breaking apart emotions and dissociating feelings made life simpler. Amongst the zebras with my sister I was content.

What shocked me most about this picture was not the unsurfaced bubbling sadness; but realising how much I have changed from the small, unsure girl who wore too much blue and wore her cap too far forward.