You’re not going to remember this conversation.
“You’re not going to remember this conversation,” he said without any emotion.
Somewhat startled, but also a bit annoyed, the girl responded, “What do you mean, we’re having it right now and why would I not remember it?”
“I know, it’s a little difficult to understand. But it’ll be like a dream. When you wake up in the morning, you try and you try, but it fades like the sun setting on the horizon,” he paused as if thinking, but he spoke as if he had said this same thing 100 times. “The harder you try, the faster it fades away.”
“But the fact that you’re telling me this is going to help me remember it,” she looked at him inquisitively. “I’m also not asleep.”
“Yes, you would think so, it sounds rational what you’re saying, but it’s not the case,” he said in such a way that it was no longer a discussion but a monologue.
Angry, scared, or both?
She didn’t know if she should be angry or scared. “But how do you know, have you done this before? Are you going to do something to me to make me forget or do you just recognize that I won’t remember?”
“Actually, it doesn’t matter. You’re not going to remember anyway, so it doesn’t matter how or why it happened.”
She was about to ask if she should be worried or scared, but she didn’t want to know the answer. She tried to avoid thinking more about it rationally, but as often happens, when you try not to think of something you think exactly of that.
Not really wanting to know the answer to this question either, she asked anyway, “So what’s going to happen next?”
Which was the last thing she remembered.