It's Strange How Memories Work

I had a dream the other night that I could've sworn up and down was a 100% genuine childhood memory, but when I went to write it down for the blog, I realized it simply can't be. But I'll tell you anyway. Here we go.

In my dream, I'm quite little, probably three or four years old. My feet aren't far away from me at all, and when I wake up later, I'm amazed by how long my legs are in comparison. I figure I'm about this size (picture - September 1986):


My parents are fixing dinner in our old house, and Dad's put a record on in the basement, where the turntable is. Sometimes I'm allowed to help Dad get the records out of their cases if I'm careful, but I'm not allowed to put them on the stand, or (even more tempting) to play with the wobbley arm that makes squeaky sounds until it gets up to full speed. I'm in the living room, wearing socks. The speakers in the living room come up almost to my waist. I'm not supposed to touch those, either, though sometimes I poke the soft covers on them gingerly if no one's looking. Right now, though, I'm otherwise occupied, because I am dancing. Or so I think.

I back up all the way to one end of the room and make a flying dash for the other wall, as Michael Stipe sings. If you be-li-i-eve-- I make my jump on the third syllable in believe and land on both feet in time with the next chord, three inches from the wall, then turn and bolt for the other side. They put a man on the moon, turn and man on the jump mooon! I'm getting better distance each time, so that by the time we're on the second chorus, the whole floor reverberates when I land. It's fantastic. Clearly, I am the best dancer ever. And then I wake up.

What's odd is, I remember the conversation that came afterwards quite clearly, so most of the memory must be true. Mom came out of the kitchen and asked what the racket was. "I'm dancing!" I replied with some enthusiasm. Alternative opinions were lodged. I, never a toddler to give up a debate without good reason, held my ground. And while I may have won the argument through sheer 3-foot-tall stubbornness, my dancing skills did not improve significantly over the next 19 years.

So there's just one thing I'm wondering: Automatic For the People didn't come out until 1992. So did my brain just selectively replace the song, or what?