How did it end up like this.

Mr. Davis recalls his childhood memories and after a little research of his own thoughts, he comes upon that he does not enjoy doing it. Also that his best memories are when he is recalling one of those dreams in which he felt so joyous that when he woke up practically every detail came into his head. He starts recalling again; nevertheless, it is a memoir rather than a memory that rises upon the other. He is at his apartment and it is raining. In his mind he travels the streets of Strawberry Hill while his uncle, who is an architect, tells him a philosophical story about how the quality of a road symbolises more that a society's wealth. In his mind, he rushes back to the apartment to find out that it's now a house, a house in which he buried his best days with a concoction of an exotic dance, a beauteous girl in a ritual in which his feet and others dance while he and this girl recalled their childhood memories. He recognizes spoiled kids from his early years, annoying uncles and a bunch of famous people trying to do magic.
He enters into a bedroom he is not able to differentiate from his old grandpa's bedroom and other he does not remember. There is she, a brown-coloured girl. She is watching the news. However, they are talking about the civil war in California. "Their envy is driving them to failure", he says. Then she says an argument that contrast with his while touching him. They turn over, he facing the bed. And in just a second, he kisses her. Do not ask for a reason. It was just desire. He rushes her into the bed, grabbing her wrists softly; her words say "a" but her eyes say "c"; her words say "c" while her eyes say "a", though. " There is something we need to talk about, something we never talked about." They separate. In that moment, his brother and the spoiled guest enter and stare at the television. Then he wakes up in a familiar bed with familiar velds. He watch himself write something in an ancient tongue. Then he wakes up again. It is Mrs. Davis. Her name, her true name is Narul Davis. He does not remember why he lost his last name. . Actually, he does not remember how he lost his name. He does not remember his name. He is lost in himself; he recalls her, this time for real, and realises what a great discussion they would have had with the last name thing. He smiles only to find out the ugly face of Mrs Davis. In that moment he twigs his mistakes and his biggest mistakes. The tea he made for her last night is now contaminated, just as he is.

Taken from memoirs of a Mockingbird