Anna H.
Anna H.
This has to be worded fairly vaguely, for the sake of another person's privacy. This person believed he had been a WWII pilot.
Once, he woke up late at night and came downstairs where I was. He was not fully awake when I seized the opportunity to ask him casually, "What kind of plane did you fly in the war?"
He looked at me like this was an incredibly stupid question, and said, "A Spitfire, of course!" I had the impression he was a bit insulted that someone might imagine he flew a lesser plane.
"How did it end up?" I asked.
Matter-of-factly, he said, "In a smoking crater."
He then went back to bed, and later remembered nothing about the conversation.
I don't like to push the subject, because, while he has retained some memories, abilities, and preferences, he seems to consider that lifetime a done deal.
Once, he woke up late at night and came downstairs where I was. He was not fully awake when I seized the opportunity to ask him casually, "What kind of plane did you fly in the war?"
He looked at me like this was an incredibly stupid question, and said, "A Spitfire, of course!" I had the impression he was a bit insulted that someone might imagine he flew a lesser plane.
"How did it end up?" I asked.
Matter-of-factly, he said, "In a smoking crater."
He then went back to bed, and later remembered nothing about the conversation.
I don't like to push the subject, because, while he has retained some memories, abilities, and preferences, he seems to consider that lifetime a done deal.