An endless failing pursuit (temp title)

(Right now I'm developing this story, so everyday I make some revisions.  You might find something changed every time you visit! =))

1.
         For Jason, life is a series of unfortunate events. 
         At least for his life.  His life is like a non-stopping gambling; a gambling that he loses ALMOST every time. 
         For example: if he goes to any place asking customers to take a number, he almost always will end up getting the single meanest, coldest, and ugliest cashier to serve him.  All the other ones, maybe four or five of them, are all good-looking and friendly, and yet he doesn’t get any one of them.  The seemingly slim of below 20% odd of misfortune is almost always especially reserved for him.
         Whenever he is in a hurry, almost every time, every traffic light along the way will turn red to stop him.
         If he finally has a chance to go on a picnic over the weekend, that Saturday almost will be a raining day.
         If he finally can relax over a long vacation, he almost always will get sick.          
         The team he chooses to support in March madness almost never makes it to the 2nd round.
         The shortcut he chooses almost always has traffic jam, is blocked, or is in construction.
         He almost never wins any forms of games that involve guessing.
         ….
         It’s lucky that he is not a member in a bomb disposal team; he might be forced to choose between red wire and blue wire, and—well, you can imagine that.
         Depressing, you may think.  Jason must be a very depressed guy. 
         No.  Though depression is not totally unfamiliar to Jason, it is not his major problem.  His major problem is anxiety.  The reason for his anxiety is that he doesn’t lose all the time—have you noticed the key word in all the sentences above describing the unfortunate events?  “Almost.”  This word implies instability.  If life is stable: always good or always bad, you know the outcomes, and your mood will be stable as well—either happy or sad.  There’s no reason for expectations.  However, Jason’s life is not stable—it is not always unfortunate—and that’s the problem.  Though very rare from his perspective, his life sometimes does show mercy on him; once in a blue moon he does gets lucky, and he finds himself talking to a pretty and funny cashier, is welcome by all the green lights, enjoys sunny Saturdays or long vacations with good health, sees his team makes it to Champion, chooses right shortcuts, and wins some games totally out of good luck…
         That’s why he is always nervous.  Everything he perceives as important he worries about it. 
         That probably was why he married Rachel. 
         There was something about Rachel that attracted him.  For one thing, she seemed to be always in control.  That was what he needs: stability.  When they married, Jason was a happy man.
         But now, Jason’s little secret probably would change everything. 

         “Can you check if there’s some brown sugar left, hon?”
         Rachel was in the living room getting the kids ready for school.  As a second generation Chinese American, she seemed to be more like a Chinese than an American.  For one thing: she saw the home as her domain—a domain that she determined to assume sole responsibility and to take a very good care of it.  She would not allow herself to make her husband worry a thing about it.
         She was turning 30 in less than a week.  A critical turning point for many women, even for the married ones.  But not for Rachel.  Her life had been all about her family and her family only.  She seemed not to be bothered by her age.  Or tried not to.  “I’m not a pretty girl anyway,” she always said.  In fact, it probably wasn’t her facial features that bothered her the most, but her two short and fat legs, and her big butt.  Or so she thought.
         In the kitchen, Jason, her husband, was checking the refrigerator for breakfast.  Heard his wife’s demand, he opened the cupboard.  “Where’s it?”
         “Should be on the upper shelf,” Rachel was kneeling down, trying to put shoes on her six-year old daughter, Hannah, who was sitting in a chair, swinging her feet and giggling.  “Stop it, Hannah!  You’re going to be late.  You know the school bus won’t wait for you.”
         “I don’t see it,” Jason said, “where on the upper shelf?”
         Rachel sighed.  “Never mind, I’ll go look at it.  Emma,” she turned to her seven-year-old next to her, “help your sister with her shoes.”
         “She can do it herself,” Emma frowned.
         “You’re the oldest, take care of your sister.” Rachel stood up and headed toward the kitchen.
         “You can tell me, I’ll look for it.” Jason protested.  “That’s ok.  There, the white box over there,” she pointed at the right corner of the upper shelf.  Jason got it for her.  She opened it up.  “We almost run out of brown sugar.  Can you get some on your way home this afternoon?”
         “Ok.” Jason shrugged.
         “Don’t forget.” She turned to the kids.  “Ok, time to go!”
         “Mommy, I want to go to school too,” four-year-old Adam gripped his mom’s apron.  “I wadda skool, dada skool,” two-year-old Eric joined in.  “Oh you wanna go to school too, honey?” Rachel lifted little Eric up and into her arms, then said to Adam: “You’ll be in preschool in six months.”
         The two older girls went out waiting for school bus.  In a bit, the bus came, the two girls waived good-bye to Rachel.
         “You know, you don’t have to run everything yourself.  I can help too.” Jason said when Rachel came back in to the kitchen with two little boys.  He opened up the refrigerator again.
         “That’s ok, it’s easier anyway….Don’t keep on opening the fridge!  What are you looking for?”
         “We don’t have milk?”
         “Here,” Rachel reached over and got the milk. 
         “Oh, I didn’t see that.  Why did you put it behind the veggies?”
         “Cause I want to cook them for lunch,” Rachel said.  “Here’s your cereal.” She already got his favorite cereal in her hand.
         Jason took the cereal and sat down.  “And here, your toast with sunny-side-up,” Rachel handed him the toast and egg.  Then she sat down and fed little Eric.  He wasn’t too happy to sit still, not very interested in eating anything.
         Jason looked at her and slightly shook his head.  They have been married for eight and a half years, and he still had no idea how she managed that—she had this ability to take care of everybody’s needs—all at the same time—even before they asked for it.
         That was supposed to be fantastic.  He knew he should 110% appreciate her. 
         Jason had a very tough childhood.  He didn’t really have a family till he built his own.  That was why he knew he should cherish what he had right now.  And indeed, he did; at least in the beginning.  He was so grateful for his wife, who chose him over other pursuers, and teamed up with him to construct this family without a grudge. 
         He wasn’t an attractive man at all.  At least that was what he believed.  When he came from China to American with his mother at age seven, he very quickly realized he didn’t belong to the category of “popular kids.” When he got into high school, he was painfully reminded on a regular basis that the seat in the center of the cafeteria would never be warmed by him, and these eyes of girls would never look at his direction more than once.  Therefore, he gave up the dream of being popular long time ago.  Instead, he focused his fight on something else.  It would not be a stretch to say he fought quite successfully: at the age of 34, he was leading a small team in the company he worked for, and it was fair to say that it was an important position.
         This little success, he knew, should greatly be attributed to his wife’s support. 
         That was why he felt guilty about something that she didn’t know.  That dirty little secret.
         “You haven’t eaten yet, I’ll feed Eric.” Jason said.
         “That’s ok.”
         “COM’ on, let me.”
         She hesitated, but finally gave him the bowl and the spoon.
         “Oh, look at that, what do we have here?” Jason scooped up a spoonful of potato and made noise of an airplane.  “The 747 is going to be swallowed by the super-duper cookie monster, oh no, help!  Help!!” Eric giggled, opened wide and swallowed the whole spoon.  “Wow!  He must be the most terrible monster in the world!”
         “Monter,” Eric shouted.  Rachel smiled.
         “I’m sorry, hon,” Rachel said.  “I know I like to take over things.  I’m not very patient.”
         “Who can blame you?  You’re running a zoo.”
         Rachel smirked.  “A circus, most likely,” she said, then got up and cleaned the sink.  Jason stood behind her and surrounded her waist with his arms.  “In that case, I will be the lion, and you’re the trainer.” He started kissing her neck.
         “You’re more like a monkey, a silly dirty old monkey,” she laughed.  “Stop it, I’m busy.”
         “Do it later,” he said.
         “Kids are watching.”
         “Let them watch.”
         She turned her head and they kissed. 
         “Mom,” Adam had wandered into the living room.  “I want to watch cookie monster.”
         “What?” Rachel asked.
         “Just a minute,” Jason said.  “Have you finished your breakfast?” Rachel asked.
         “Yes.” Adam responded.  She looked at the bowl on the table, indeed it was empty.
         “Why don’t you read your book for just a minute?  I’ll be right there in no time.” Jason said, then turned to Rachel and smiled, “where were we?”
         “I’ll have to go there before he messes everything up,” Rachel opened the arms around her.  “He can wait…” Jason protested.  But Rachel was already gone.  “Oh, Adam, you’ve messed up all the video tapes.” She moaned.  “Let’s put them back together.”
         Jason sighed.  He slowly walked to the living room, found his briefcase, and walked out of the door. “I go now.  Bye.”
         “Bye; and don’t forget the sugar.” Rachel shouted.

         “Hi, Simon,” as Jason stepped into the office, he nodded to his colleague who sat in the cubicle next to him.  Simon raised his head from his papers, raised his eyebrows, and went back to his business without a word.
         Jason didn’t like the awkwardness.  He sat in his own chair and pretended to be busy.  He didn’t know why he bothered to say hi to Simon.  Simon was never warm with him.
         While pretending to be busy by pulling out papers and making some noise, Jason stood up and looked over the partitions.  “Where’s Sara?” He asked Louise, another colleague.  She raised her head, “Sara?  I’ve heard she’s not coming today.”
         “Why not?”
         “Don’t know.” She shrugged.
         Jason sat down, pulled out his cell phone and dialed Sara’s number.  She turned off her phone.
         He thought for a while, then texted a brief message:
         “What’s up?  Didn’t see you this morning.  Everything ok?  Let me know asap.  Take care.  Love.”
         He examined six times to make sure everything sounded right, smiled to himself, then clicked “send.”

         That afternoon, Jason didn’t forget he needed to buy the brown sugar.  He was almost proud of himself.  Normally, six or seven out of ten times he would forget what Rachel told him to do.  He didn’t really understand why.  When they were dating, he remembered every word uttered from Rachel’s lips.  In fact, if anybody gave him a test on every word Rachel said in the whole past week, he would sail through the exam with his eyes closed and hands tied up.
         Not now.  Now Rachel wished she had a drill so she could drill what she said into his brain.
         He went to the store and found the brown sugar.  As he was walking toward the cashier, he noticed a mother and her young boy in front of him.  The mother was about 35 or 40, and the boy was about six or seven.  They were fighting.  It seemed that the boy wanted something and the mother refused.  The boy was whining and kicking, and the mother was verbally threatening him. 
         Looking at the mother’s face, Jason had a ton of empathy.  Having four kids himself, he understood exactly how she felt. 
         But his empathy disappeared when he heard she said: “You keep whining, and I’ll leave you here in the store and never come back!”
         A sharp knife pierced through Jason’s heart.  The kid, however, seemingly quite used to the threat, kept on his tamper tantrum. 
         The mother checked out and left, but Jason kept an eye on her and her boy till they walked out of the front door.  Jason waited impatiently for the cashier, but the poor cashier probably was new; a simple brown sugar took him two minutes to figure out how to check out.
         Finally Jason was released from that slow champion cashier and hurried to the door.  No sign of the mother and the boy.  He felt a little relief: the mother didn’t really abandon him after all.
         But as he turned left to walk to his car, he saw that boy, standing at the far corner, sobbing.  He was alone.
         Jason ran to that boy.  “Where’s your mom?”
         The boy just sobbed. 
         “Where do you live?”
         More sobbing.
         He looked around.  No sign of his mother.  A car far away was driving away, but Jason couldn’t see very clear who the driver was.
         “Where’s your mom?  Did your mom leave without you?”
         “Mommy…” he just sobbed.
         What do I do? His thoughts were running crazy as his heart was racing. If his mother really leaves without him, I have to act very quickly!  I can’t let this happen again!
         On an impulsive manner, he frantically held that little boy’s hand and rushed to the customer’s service.  There was a long line in front of him, so he directly charged to the very first person of the line.  “Excuse me?  Excuse me?”
         Everybody turned and looked at him.  The worker behind the desk, an old lady, was annoyed.  “Sir, please stay in the line.”
         “No.” Jason was shaking.  “Listen: this boy is lost; his mother maybe has left without him.  I want you to broadcast to search for his mom; and after that I’m going to call the police.  You understand?” He said with an authority in his voice.  The old lady was intimidated.  “What’s your name?  Honey?” She asked the little boy.
         After more sobbing, he finally mumbled: “I want mommy.”
         “Don’t worry, honey; we’ll find her for you.” The lady assured. 
         As she was about to talk to the microphone, however, a woman ran to the customer service.  “James!  James!  What are you doing here!?” 
         It was the mother.
         “Ma'am,” the old lady pointed to Jason, “this gentleman found your boy.”
         “Found what?”
         “You left him!” Jason said.
         “What are you talking about?  I told him to wait there cause I had to put away something.  I didn’t leave my boy.”
         “But he was sobbing outside alone!  He was all alone by himself!  What about something happens to him?!” Jason yelled.
         “What would happen!?  I left him just ten seconds and 30 feet,” the mother shouted.  “And you took my boy without asking?  Did you wait for just 20 seconds?  Did you check around?”
         “Of course!  You were no where to be found!” Jason waived his arms.  “And you should be more careful, anything can happen during your ‘20 seconds!’  That’s your kid, your own kid!  You shouldn’t desert him like that!”
         “Who do you think you are?  You don’t tell me how to raise my kid, you hear me?” The mother was mad, “I don’t have time for this!  This is bullshit!  Totally shit!  Some freak show!  Let’s go, James,” the mother held the boy’s hand.  “Crazy Chinese!” She added.
         Everybody around fell into silence.  Most of them stared at Jason.
         Jason tried very hard to keep his composure, but he was too angry and frustrated to calm down.  “She shouldn’t desert her own boy like that,” Jason said.  But people pretended not to hear him, kept on their own business.
         “She shouldn’t desert her own boy like that,” he repeated, still shaking.  “That’s her own child.”
         




2.

         Jason didn’t remember much of his childhood back in China.  He tried not to think about it; it belonged to the past.  He only vaguely remembered living in a country side for a while.  Life was harsh there.  Then his father one day said he wanted to go to a big city to find a job.  He never came back.  Nobody knew what happened to him.  Nobody told Jason anything. 
         Jason’s mother, Lin, decided to go to the city and lived with a relative.  Till now Jason still didn’t know how they were related to this relative.  He just knew his mother told him to call this middle-age woman “aunt.” But she was not any of his parents’ sibling.  This aunt was nice anyway.  She would sometimes bring Jason to buy some candy.  Though they didn’t eat much better meals, the quantity of food surely was improved.
         Then one day Lin had a big announcement.  “I met someone.  He likes me.  And we can go to America, become Americans, and everything will be fine!” She said excitedly. 
         Jason later saw the American.  He came all the way from America to meet his mother.  He was a typical American: tall, big nose, brown hair, maybe in his 50s.  He would smile to Jason. 
         Jason later learned the whole deal was called mail-order bride.  But how did his mother and his American dad hooked up he never knew.  They headed to America about three months later. 

         Lin was very excited about going to the new world.  “Life is much better there, Shao-Kwan, I know; I just know it.” Shao-Kwan was Jason’s Chinese nickname.  “In America, anybody can be rich if he works hard enough!”
         “Do you like Mr. Wayne?” Jason asked.  Mr. Wayne was the American.
         Lin was silent for a while, then said: “That’s not very important.”
         “But how about dad?  Where is he?  He is not coming with us?”
         “No, Shao-Kwan,” she looked at him, “dad is not coming with us.  He left us.  We don’t know why he left, and we don’t know where he is.  So you just forget about him.”
         Jason’s father never spent too much time with his family, so Jason didn’t feel too bad leaving him behind.  But there was something else bothering him.  “Mom, do you speak English?”
         “We’ll learn, don’t worry.” She smiled and patted his head.  “And you’ll learn it in no time too.”
         “I’m afraid.”
         “Nothing to be afraid of.  Everything will be alright.  I promise.”
         Jason wasn’t so sure about it, but he chose to believe his mother.
         
         English wasn’t as easy as his mother promised.  He studied very hard but the progress seemed very slow.  Jason was frustrated, and as a result he wasn’t very fond of going to school.  But the teachers were nice and patient to him; he liked to spend time with them.
         The first year in America was actually not too bad.  Jason’s stepfather, Peter Wayne, was a cook.  He was very busy, especially on the weekends and holidays.  But when he was home, he was a funny guy to be around.  His name, Jason, was given by him.  It was just a random name he picked.  The name he gave to Lin was more special: Abra.  “That means ‘mother of many’ in Hebrew,” Peter said, smiling.  “You’re going to give me a lot of children.  Ha ha!  Ha ha ha!”
         She smiled.  But later she murmured: “I’m no Abra.  And I don’t want many children.”
         Jason didn’t know whether she did anything to ensure she wouldn’t get pregnant, or it simply was meant to be, she indeed never got pregnant.  After a year, Peter was not happy about it.  But for some reason he didn’t pursue it further.
         In the second year, things started to change. 
         During the first year, they never saw Peter drank.  But one night he came back drunk.  And then more drunk nights.  By the end of the second year, his drunk nights were more than his sober nights. 
         He started to miss work.  Jason and his mother were puzzled and scared.  They tried to wake him up for work but were pushed away.  Finally he was fired.  In the beginning he looked for some other jobs but couldn’t hold them long enough.  By the end of the third year, he stopped looking.  He stayed home, watched TV, ate chips and soda, all day long.  Sometimes he smashed things, shouted and cursed everyone and everything.  Sometimes he cried.
         Without income, they started to suffer financially.  Lin was forced to go out and looked for a job.  Luckily she found one: a hotel maid.  It wasn’t an easy job.  Everyday she came home exhausted.  But then she had to clean up after Peter, who always had the talent to mess everything up.
         Jason remembered their first fight: Peter asked Lin right after she came home where she had been, why she was home so late.  “I’m just ten minutes late,” She said.  Peter angrily smashed a bottle.  “I asked you where you went, you bitch!”
         “I go nowhere.” She said.
         “Did you fuck around?  Huh?  Fuck those rich fat pigs in the hotel?  Bitch!”
         “You crazy.” She tried to get into the bedroom.  But Peter suddenly jumped up and grasped her right arm.  “Where do you think you’re going?  You’re mine!  You understand?  You’re my bitch!”
         “Let me go!” She struggled.
         “Where’s the money?”
         “No money today.”
           “Lying bitch!”
         “No money…” then she screamed.  Peter pinned her down on the floor and searched for money.  “Here,” Peter got some money from her packet.  “That’s for the rent!” She shouted, tried to reach the money.  “Shut up!” Peter yelled.  He let her go.  She curled up to the corner and cried.
         Throughout the whole time, Jason was sitting on the sofa, watching, weeping, and shaking.
         This was just a start.  After that, everything was like a downward spiral.  The fights became as common as dinners.  Sometimes the fights drew blood.  Jason remembered all the endless nights when he helped his mother putting bandage on her wounds and tried to wipe away the tears on her face. 
         This had been going on for nearly a year.  In the last few weeks, Jason heard many times his mother whispered to herself: “I can’t… I really can’t…”

         As Jason recalled it right now, he knew that was the sign—the sign for that fateful night.
         It was about 11 o’clock at night.  Peter was sleeping on the couch while the TV was on.  Lin came home quietly, but Jason heard her and got out of bed.  When he came out of the bedroom, he saw his mother carrying her purse, indicating she probably was about to go out again.  “Mom?”
         Lin startled.  “You are not sleeping?”
         “Where are you going?”
         She hushed him, nervously looked at Peter.
         “Where are you going?” Jason whispered.
         “Nowhere.  You go to sleep.”
         “No, I want to go with you.”
         “Go to sleep!”
         Jason’s eyes turned red.
         She hesitated, then sighed: “Alright, come along!  And hurry!”
         Jason hurriedly put on his clothes.  They went out of the door quietly.  Together, they walked on the cold and dark street.  “Where are we going?”
         Lin didn’t answer.
         They came to a liquor store.  “What are we doing here?” Jason asked again.
         “Nothing.  Don’t ask so many questions.” Lin seemed to be waiting for something or someone.
         In about five minutes, a car came and parked in front of him.  The window rolled down, a man stick out his head, glimpsed at Jason, then gave Lin a question look: “What’s this?”
         “Nothing, nothing.” Lin turned to Jason: “Mom has to talk to this mister, you wait here.”
         She got in the car.  They drove away. 
         Jason waited.
         Lin never came back.
         
         
         
         

3.

         Jason never told Rachel about the incident in the store.  He felt embarrassed and ashamed.  Anything he felt ashamed of he never shared with anybody; not even Rachel.  He would share with her everything that was good about himself; he would also tell her the stories of his tough childhood to gain her sympathy.  But he purposely avoided anything that would portray himself as foolish, embarrassing, or a loser—though he quite often saw himself these ways.  He tried very hard to forget about them.
         But strangely, Jason found himself disclosed more and more to Sara.  He would tell Sara things that he wouldn’t tell Rachel. 
         Sara was a good-looking red-haired girl.  Young, intelligent, friendly, and full of potential, she was always greeting people with smiles.  Newly graduated from college with biology major, she had a dream to become a marine biologist.  This job, she said, was just a transition.  She was expecting to go back to school after a year or two.  She was well liked by everyone, and she indeed had the talent to keep a good relationship with everyone she met.  It was very important for her to be embedded among a well-supported social network; that made her happy.  Generally speaking, she was a happy girl.
         That was one of the reasons why Jason was attracted to her.  Her natural happy disposition was a great contrast to Jason’s gloomy character.  He liked her crystal-like green eyes shining cheerfulness when talking to him; it was like immersing into a deep water of joyfulness.
         
         “What happened yesterday?  You didn’t come to work.” Jason asked Sara the first thing in the morning when he saw her.
         “I was just a bit under the whether, that’s all.  I’m fine now.  How are you?” She was always cheerful.
         “Good, kind of miss you though.” He teased. 
         “Oh,” she smiled.  “Well, I’m here now.”
         “Fancy having a bite at noon together?”
         “Where?”
         “Where else?  The same old place.”
         “Carlos O'Kelly's?  Sure.”
         The time went especially slow that morning.  Jason pretended to work, but he couldn’t help but thought about the lunch time with Sara: what he was going to say or does to please her.  He desired to see her eyes and smiles, again and again.
         Finally, it was lunch time. 
         “So, what were you working on this morning?” Jason started a topic when they settled down at the table.
         “Oh, not much; I helped Simon on his project.”
         “Simon?  How’s it like to work with him?” He thought about Simon’s coldness and stinky face.
         “He’s cool, I like him.”
         Jason was surprised: are we talking about the same person?  How can he be cool and how can you like him? He felt a quick rush of upset and jealousy.
         “How about you?  What were you into this morning?  I saw you quite busy there.”
         “Oh, yea, it’s interesting, I’ve got to tell you this,” Jason got excited.  “This is a new product I’m working on.  I’m really excited…I hope you’ll be excited too.”
         “Shoot.”
         “You know lucid dreams?”
         “Heard about them, but no idea what they are.”
         “That’s what we are investigating.  Have you ever been dreaming and knowing that you’re dreaming?”
         “Yea, sometimes,” she nodded, her eyes brightened, “so that’s lucid dream?”
         “Yup.  Once we’re aware that we’re dreaming, we might be able to control where the dreams are going.  We might even be able to do things we need to do but can’t during the days.”
         “What sort of things?”
         “Well, for example, you have to come out some new ideas for your projects but you’re too busy to think about it; or you need a lot more time to find a solution to a problem; or you have to practice a speech…you can do them all in your dreams!”
         “Oh wow, that’s pretty cool!  I’m sure I can use more time on that!” She was excited too.
         “Now there are some popular devices to help people get lucid dreams.  They usually involve detecting your REM sleep…you know?  REM as “rapid eye movement?”  When it detects you’re dreaming it will send out a cue, like you know, flashing red light or some sounds.  The cue is strong enough for you to be aware of in your dream but not strong enough to wake you up.  So when you sense that cue in your dream, you might come to realize you’re dreaming.  But what the devices can’t do is help you control your dreams, like what you want to dream about or what direction you are going.  Some people can control it, but others can’t.”
         “So?  You got something figured out?”
         “How’d you know?”
         “I can see it from your smirk.” She smiled.
         “I’m like an open book to you huh?” He laughed.  “Yes, I’ve thought of some ideas.  We can either use behavioral approach to condition people, or we can use medical approach.  The idea of conditioning is tell the person when she is awake to think about the things she would like to dream, and while she’s doing that we give her some stimulation like the red flash light.  When she’s dreaming we flash the same red light as the cue; if she’s associated the things she wants to dream of and the light together, that will be a cue for her, reminding her to dream that particular content.”
         “That makes sense.  What about medical approach?”
         “That’s something we’re still working on.  But basically I’m looking for drugs that potentially can enhance particular desirable memory.”
         “What would that be?” She widened her eyes.
         “Well, still looking.  You’ve heard about memory-erasing drug?”
         “What about it?  They haven’t tested it on humans, have they?”
         “I believe they have already.  The idea is that the drug propranolol, the beta-blocker that is used to lower blood pressure, can erase memory by blocking the process of adrenaline…anyway, you know when you are emotionally charged you’re more likely to have vivid memory of the incidence, right?  The flashbulb memory?  Well, that’s because the adrenaline is released when you’re stressed, and it will get to the brain, particularly the limbic system, and intensify the memory.  So if we block adrenaline from its function then the person will not remember.  What I’m thinking is: how about we work the other way?  We tell the brain to intensify a particular memory repeatedly by blocking the reuptake process…ok, I know I’m losing you.  What I mean is we can try to find some drugs to do adrenaline’s work, to intensify some certain memory, the memory you want to remember.”
         “Why not just use adrenaline?”
         “It’s not good for long-term.  You don’t want to be always stressed out.”
         “Right.”
         “What’s interesting is that the precursor of adrenaline is dopamine.  You know dopamine?”
         “Not really.”
         “It’s a neurotransmitter.  It can make you happy.  They are related; so there must be a way for us to enhance a particular desirable memory repeatedly, and also make you feel happy and confident.  If we find a drug that can lump all the goodies together, we can have someone take the drug before bed, and when she is having lucid dreams she’s very likely to dream about that pleasant memory, and might also get confidence to control and direct the dream to a good ending.  It’s like editing your own dreams to make a good dream come true!”
         “That really sounds exciting.” She smiled.
         “What will be your most pleasant memory?”
         “Huh?”
         “Your best memory.  What is it?”
         “My best memory?” She grinned.  “Let me see… well, here’s one: last summer I helped my sister took care of her two little boys for a week.  They were sooooo adorable!  I was having so much fun!”
         “Really?” Jason was surprised: how could anyone said her best memory was taking care of little kids? “That’s nice.  You’re a very nice sister.”
         “Thanks.”
         The food came.  They enjoyed their meal.  But Jason stopped eating after some bites, just looked at her.  Finally Sara noticed and asked: “What’s wrong?”
         “Nothing.”
         “Then why are you staring at me?  Something on my face?”
         “Do I make you feel uncomfortable?  I’m sorry.  It’s just… well, I think you’re beautiful.” He blushed.
         “Well, thanks!” She obviously was happy to hear that.
         Jason had something more to say, but he knew he shouldn’t say it.
         I want to be with you.  Forever.








         
         

(to be continued)