methinks

Geister im Kopf

Last night I was visited by ghosts. They haunted my dreams, calling their names, to remind that they are still there. To remind me that they still remember me, even if I have forgotten them. These ghosts were not people, though. They were words. German words.

You see, yesterday evening I watched a German movie called Toten Winkel, in English The Blind Spot, an interview of Hitler's last personal secretary. The woman, now elderly, retells her impressions of her time with him. And while her story is unique - it was she who took dictation for Hitler's final testament. She heard his death shot - it wasn't what she said that intrigued me, but how she said it. She spoke in pure, well paced Hochdeutsch. In perfect German.

Since living in Germany for a year, the conclusion to 7 years of German study, I have spent over three years without using the language. It is as if the language was among the friends I left behind when returning to America. Like parting companions who have awkwardly promised to write, I've been meaning to get in touch. Over and over again. So watching this movie was a nervous reunion. With every phrase I understood, I was assured that things hadn't changed. With every word I missed, I knew that things would never be the same. While I understood the meaning of most everything, the once polished sheen of my second language had dulled to a functional yet lackluster finish.

I tried to smother this disappointment in sleep, but it wouldn't be snuffed. The words, words that hadn't entered my mind for years, began to flood my dreams. Random words, whole sentence, half sentences. Everyone wanted to be heard. The dreams were so vivid that I was still pondering the meaning of half a dozen of them over breakfast and in the shower. At that time, I felt that every word recalled but not remembered was the epitome of my failure, of my forgetfulness. But I don't see it like that anymore.

They are not words forgotten, they are words almost remembered. They are not ghosts who haunt, they are memories that grace. They are not lost, they're just...temporarily misplaced. I think many things in our lives are better seen in this way. Languages and places and people alike.