Part 9: How a Scene in My Novel Triggered a Buried Memory

This excerpt shows how a fictional scene in one of my novels, mirrors a real event my brain had hidden from me. This reflective memoir of uncovering long‑buried childhood trauma, illustrates the moment the horrific memory surfaced.

Understanding Dissociation Through Fiction

I am now at my final novel, Nadia. I pause on spotting a broken bottle in a key scene. I continue gleaning, expecting to find further clues to the day my twin Eve had cut her face. Instead I find a character I had based upon my uncle. He is a narcissistic doctor that runs a care-home where Nancy, the main character used to work.

This excerpt from my book Mirror Image Shattered shows how my fictional scene mirrors the real event my mind had hidden from me.

In the key scene, the creepy doctor's voice enters Nancy's head as she tries to save the life of a choking occupant of the limo by puncturing a hole in his windpipe.

The Moment the Memory Broke Through

I wonder why I had put Uncle Dan there. He wasn’t present when Eve's accident occurred and he rarely visited.

I was wrong.

I have provided an abridged excerpt from my book Mirror Image Shattered which describes how the reading of this scene within my novel, Nadia triggered a horrific memory that has been hiding from me for almost 50 years.

My book Nadia analyses my novel.

The Subtext I Didn’t Know I Was Writing

In the novel, Nancy is an ex-care worker who finds herself in celebrity Vincent's limo which later crashes. Throughout, Nancy appears naïve, like a child in the company of adults who are sharing grown-up innuendos. Nancy is flustered and seduced. This is because Nancy is in fact only 3.

The scene contains a strong subtext of what actually happened to me when I was 3. All my novels contain disturbing double-meanings which I hadn't noticed. The subtext here is shown in italics. Notice how the roles of Vincent and his PA sometimes merge. Notice also how action is taken out of context.

This next bit has spurred a churning in my stomach and I am sick with dread. Here goes.

How a Scene in My Novel Triggered a Buried Memory

Nancy is in a nightclub with friends having a loud time with drinks.
In other words, Uncle Dan, Mum, Dad and perhaps other adults are chatting in the living-room of our cottage 1968. See the subtext (in italics) below.

Nancy is urged to snog a pole-dancer. The crowd join and Nancy feels embarrassed.
I am the centre of attention for some reason, possibly because of Uncle Dan.

Nancy's friends spot celebrity Vincent in the corner who looks bored. Nancy thinks he is an odious alpha-male.
Uncle Dan unnerves me even at three.

Nancy gets separated from her drunken friends and remains at the nightclub.
I get separated from my chief caregivers.

Vincent's PA is in the bar. He introduces himself and jokes about the scene in the nightclub.
Uncle Dan possibly says something to me and I am flustered.

The PA flatters Nancy before offering her a lift home in Vincent's limo.
I feel obliged to show gratitude for Uncle Dan’s attentions. In other words, I'm being groomed.

Nancy proceeds to a dressing room before making her way to the limo.
I possibly don my pyjamas or something to get ready for bed.

Nancy's foot slips as she makes her way to the limo with Vincent's PA.
My toddler foot slips as I approach the bedroom door.

Nancy feels uneasy about entering the limo.
I have a bad feeling about going into my bedroom with Uncle Dan about.

Vincent and his PA make jokes that Nancy does not get. She feels insecure at the overtones.
I don’t understand Uncle Dan’s adult sense of humour.

The limo falls silent. It is dark outside.
My bedroom is silent. It is dark outside.

Vincent changes his shirt to expose broad expanse of flesh.
Uncle Dan has taken off his shirt for some reason.

Nancy regrets entering the limo. She fears the press may find things out about her past and that her mother will get involved.
I wish I wasn’t in my bedroom. Uncle Dan tells me not to speak to my mother.

Description of a Car Crash in Fiction

Before long, the limo falls into a skid as described here:

The floor quaked and the chassis jerked violently. The shadows reared and crashed against the windows. Nancy's seat-belt seized her in a molar-rattling embrace. She feels she is on a fairground carousel on a tumble down a hill.

I sense myself being overwhelmed, and everything dissolves into a blur.

Nancy sensed she was tumbling downwards with horrible force. The road receded in a sickening freefall that flattened her against her seat (I fall back on my bed). Her stunned windpipe would not permit a sound. (I cannot make a sound).

Nancy's knuckles hardened against the edge of her seat (the mattress). The death-car’s fishtail battered her into a ragdoll state (my body is shaking like a ragdoll).

The limo tilts, her skull aches and the limo groans. Nancy's seatbelt cut into her midriff. She batted the floor in a futile attempt to defy gravity.
My feet kick against the foot of the bed. I struggle for breath.

The cab pitched backwards. In an instant, her head weighed a ton. Her nape slammed against her seat. Would the cab ceiling be her final vision?
The pressure intensifies. My skull aches. Would my bedroom ceiling be my final vision?

She grunted air she thought impossible. She didn’t want to black out.
I feel myself slipping away.

Her body no longer felt hers. No pain, just numbness, a disembodiment.
I come-to. My body no longer feels mine.

She sneered like a child at the sight of a worm. She gawped at her hands. Warm, sticky. Nancy flaps her palms against the seat, crying out.
In the novel, this is blood. In reality, something terrible has happened to me..

Nancy's breaths condensed upon the window. On the outside, Nancy saw another self staring at her. (Nancy is seeing Vincent's reflection in the glass, which is really a split-self).

Dissociation in Fiction

See what's happened here?

This is dissociation in writing: the splitting of the consciousness during trauma. Vincent and Nancy have now become two halves of one person experiencing the same trauma. Vincent is suffocating now instead of Nancy. No sex abuse occurs in this scene. Instead, a phallic-shaped sweet has got lodged in Vincent's throat. Action is taken out of context, which frequently happens in my novels. Vincent's fingernails gouge at the car seat as he is choking.

I am rewriting my memory so I am no longer taking the abuse. However, I am the one who thrashes about and gouges at the mattress as I struggle for air.

How a Novel about Celebrity Culture Triggered a Memory  

The scene continues like this, the subtext, again is in italics:

Nancy forages for her mobile phone. With no signal, she pleads into the mouthpiece.
I am terrified and plead for someone to be with me.

Nancy now attempts to save Vincent's life by piercing his throat with a shard of glass. The paramedics arrive and Vincent's body is ferried on a stretcher. Nancy feels he no longer belongs to her because his body was in fact mine.

 
Later in the novel, Nancy awakens to the news of the crashed limo. She thinks to herself:
'They’ve had sex in the limo and now Vincent can no longer speak'. At a newsstand, Nancy sees a mother shoving a toddler-laden buggy past.'

Something terrible happened to me in my bedroom, and my toddler mind cannot vocalise it. But the trauma remains in my head, subconsciously triggered by the sight of toddlers who resemble myself at that age.

The manner in which Nancy wipes the blood from her hands had triggered the memory.

That one paragraph brought the memory to the surface of when I came-to after the assault. It’s always been there but my brain had done a good job of hiding it from me.

Memory of my coming-to after trauma in my bedroom.

My novel Nadia has finally triggered the unearthing of a horrific memory of what had happened to me when I was 3.

Read the next part which describes the actual memory.

Part 10: My Life Falls Apart
Or go back to part 8

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