When you are a ghost, tangled in ribbons of persistent thought and feeling centered on memories that you can not let go and would give anything to relive, whether these thoughts and feelings were to return the same or if they were to return differently, either way you know that they are a truth in a world otherwise blurred and hazy.
So out of reach yet so very tangible, eternities pass with each second while fog gathers up from the shore and you run fast as you can, away. Feet slipping beneath, you pull at the ground, franticly scrambling for safety. Not wanting to be tugged away into a different dream where these thoughts and feelings might not follow and there, you might become forgotten.
But if you were to simply look back, you would see that these ribbons trail behind. They remain connected.
For, you are not a ghost and your good memories are real.