I can't remember many details from my childhood. I have the key few, and they repeat in my consciousness, but I'm starting to feel like I can't distinguish between dreams and memory. The other day, my sister mentioned a story wherein one of my sandals flew off my foot on the swing ride at the county fair. It had landed on the roof of a concession stand. It sounded familiar. But I didn't remember it until she mentioned it. I always freak out that my shoes are going to fly off when I'm on a rollercoaster, etc. turns out I had a good reason.
I think I might actually start writing in a journal.