Memories of the Past

Omoide strolls down the sidewalk of the city. He keeps his eyes level and a slight smile on his lips as he nods and says, "Good morning." to the people he passes. Occasionally, his eyes meet with another's, their troubled expression suddenly shifting to slight confusion then contentment. They nod and return his greeting before he lightly touches their shoulder or arm as he passes by. This could happen several times a day or not at all depending on how many of the original 100 souls were gathered in the area in which Omoide is called to.

Hundreds of years ago, Omoide would have been considered a healer or medicine man. When one of the 100 souls would suffer from the effects of having memories of past lives begin to encroach on their current life's mind, they would seek out the healer of minds, as he was known then, or Naosu. The suffering soul would be brought to Naosu, awake and suffering, crying for any sort of relief. Even begging for death.

Naosu would then take the suffering soul's vessel into his arms and look into their eyes. A gentle touch to the temple and they would fully relax, smile and then fall unconscious. The unburdened soul's vessel would then be collected by the villagers and taken out of Naosu's hut. The process was simple and painless for the vessel. They would wake with no memories of visiting the healer or the suffering they had been through. Word spread quickly and more and more people were brought to Naosu to have their souls healed at his hands.

Over time, the people of this world discovered the science of the mind and pharmacology, creating drugs that could suppress the unwanted memories and calm the anxiety that they caused. This also clouded the soul, making it unfocused and unable or unwilling to call out to the Healer of Souls. So once again, Omoide needed to adapt to these advances in medicine and science by educating himself in the science of the mind, memories and dreams.

He attended college at a nondescript university in an average city. He kept to himself and immersed himself in his studies and rarely participated in the expected college lifestyle. The only person that he socialized with on a regular basis was his dorm roommate, Benjimin Madelin.

Benjimin was also is studying mental health and psychology, but his focus was on behavior modification with minimal use of drug therapy. It was a groundbreaking field with a lot more research and field study than Omoide's courses required.

Benjimin's personality was quite the opposite of Omoide's. He would indulge in every outing and campus party that he could find. Benjimin always cited it was for case study but he seemed to be brought home and dumped at their door, passed out or nearly on the brink of being sick and then passing out.

These antics used to be bothersome to Omoide but over time, he came to accept this part of his roommate's personality and even sat up with Benjimin into the early morning listing to him tell tales of what he had seen and his theories about the mind when altered. Omoide even went as far as to start recording these conversations so Benjimin's insights were not forgotten during the next day's hangover.

When it came time for graduation, Benjimin finally convinced Omoide to join him at the local bar for some celebratory beers and reminiscent conversation. A few beers in, Benjimin was feeling relaxed and content, staring at Omoide as he downed his third beer.

"Are you enjoying that one?" Benjimin asked tapping the rim of the mug in Omoide's hand.

Watching Benjimin's finger, he shrugs, "It's not bad I guess. I don't understand the desire to drink something that doesn't have nutritional benefits but the taste isn't bad." He lifts his eyes to Benjimin's and smiles at the dopey look on his roommate's face. "Well, maybe it has other benefits. Are you feeling okay, you look a little flushed." Omoide reaches towards Benjimin's forehead to check his temperature.

Benjimin closes his eyes and waits for Omoide's touch, "I don't know….. I do feel a little warm but that may be the beer, or the…..company." He says with a hint of playfulness.

Omoide places the back of his hand on Benjimin's forehead for a moment, his eyes flitting down to Bemjimin's, "You don't seem to have a fever. Maybe it is just the alcohol."

Benjimin sighs heavily and moves away from Omoide's hand. "Well, thanks for checking." Benjimin chuckles, forcing himself into a better mood. "So, I never asked why you choose the track you did for study?" He asks as he raises his hand catching the waitress's attention. After she takes his order, he looks back at Omoide and waits for his answer.

"I want to help release people's burdens……to take away the things that hold them back….mentally you know. If I can help one person have a good, content life with good mental health and fulfilling interactions, I will have considered all my time in study so very worth it." Omoide nods a few times as he picks up the new mug of beer that was placed in front of him. He still seems to be contemplating the question or maybe his answer.

Benjimin smiles at his friend's perplexed expression and chuckles, "Well, I believe you will accomplish exactly that, several times over. This world will become a better place with you out there helping people in need." He raises his mug towards Omoide, making a toast, "To making the world a better place! Cheers and congratulations my friend!"

Omoide cautiously taps his mug to Benjimin's and takes another drink from his own. "So, why did you study your chosen field, Benjimin? You said you are going to intern at a research facility, right?" Omoide watches as Benjimin downs the rest of his beer and waves to the waitress for another round.

"Well, there is a little story behind that." Benjimin states as he lets out a big sigh and begins his tale.

Some time in the past ------

Benjimin had revealed that his up-brining wasn't as cheery as most children may have had. His father had a quick temper and over time, he became physically violent. In the beginning, the violence was always directed at Benjimin's mother. When he was old enough to know this wasn't right, Benjimin tried to intervene and made himself his father's target. Over time it was impossible for Benjimin to hide the bruising when he went to school and by high school, when he arrived with a dislocated shoulder and busted lip, his counselor finally called Family Services.

Benjimin's father was arrested, put in jail and ordered into Anger Management therapy. He wouldn't be released until he completed the therapy and had control of his anger. While his father did complete the program and was released, he was also on a heavy drug regiment to help keep those violent tendencies under control. After a year, his father was back home and still going to weekly therapy sessions at the local hospital. Everything seemed back to normal and his father was even very loving to Benjimin and his mother until his father ran out of his medication over a long holiday weekend during Benji's senior year of high school.

The first day his father didn't take his medication, things were quiet. His father kept to himself in the garage working on an old car he had been trying to restore for years. At dinner, his father seemed jittery and couldn't keep still at the table and didn't finish eating before he stalked off to the garage again. Later that evening, Benjimin was looking for his mother and decided to check the garage. As he made is way to the side door, he could hear his mother and father talking. Well, his father was sobbing and apologizing and his mother just kept calling his father's name, soothingly.

When Benjimin entered the garage he saw his father standing in front of his mother with a gun pointed at his head. He was sobbing with tear stained cheeks and wide eyes as he kept apologizing to Benjimin's mother, over and over, "I'm sorry love.... I just can't... I don't know why my mind won't quiet down. I wanted to tell you but I thought I could handle it but now…. I can't fight it much longer. I don't want to hurt you.. and... and ... Benji! Please.... my love...I want this to end!" Benjimin's father sank to his knees as his mother rushed to take the gun from his hands.

She tossed the gun across the floor and away from his father. "Oliver, can you hear me? It's okay. We know you don't want to hurt us. We can go to the hospital now. Can you get up? Should we just call someone then?" Benjimin watches as his mother notices him by the door, she starts to get up and back away from his father, her hands held in front of her as to try and keep his father calm.

Benjimin quietly calls out to his mother, holding his hand out to her, "Mom, come with me now. We will get dad help but you must leave him right now. He is struggling and I fear he may lose the battle this time." Benjimin's mother's eyes flash to his as she continues to back away from his father. "Benji, dear, I will stay here with your father. Please call the hospital and have them send someone to come here and help." She gives Benjimin a shaky smile and turns back to his father as she pushes Benjimin out of the door, closes it and locks the deadbolt.

Benjimin raises his fist to bang on the door in protest but thinks better of it knowing that it could send his father over the edge. He runs back into the house and grabs the phone on the kitchen wall. The number for the mental health department is on the cork board next to the phone cradle but Benjimin dials 911 instead. He explains the situation to the dispatcher who assured Benjimin that someone would be there in a few minutes. Benjimin made sure to tell the dispatcher that no sirens should be used as his father was very stressed and on the edge of breaking. The dispatcher told Benjimin to stay on the phone with them until the police and first responders arrived. Just as he was about to agree, there was a loud BANG from the direction of the garage.