There are moments when a memory does not behave the way we expect it to. Instead of quietly staying in the past, it steps forward as if it has been waiting for the right moment to return. It arrives unexpectedly through a familiar scent, the sound of a distant song, or the sudden recognition of a place you have not visited in years. You may pause, unsettled by how vivid the feeling is, almost as if the memory is not something you are recalling, but something that is reaching back toward you.
As a writer of supernatural thrillers, I have always been fascinated by the way memory operates. In fiction, memories often become doorways into forgotten events, hidden truths, or unresolved spiritual conflicts. But I have noticed that real life carries its own version of this phenomenon. Certain memories carry weight. They hold emotion that feels preserved, untouched by time. When they surface, they do not feel distant. They feel present.
I believe memories are more than mental recordings. They are spiritual markers. They remind us where we have been, but sometimes they also remind us who walked beside us while we were there.
There have been times in my own life when a memory returned with such clarity that it felt intentional. I would suddenly remember a moment when I felt uncertain, afraid, or alone. Yet as I revisited that memory years later, I could see details I had overlooked. I could see guidance I had not recognized. I could see prayers that had been answered in ways I did not fully understand at the time.
Memory has a way of revealing truth slowly. It waits until we are ready to understand what we could not grasp when the moment first occurred.
Supernatural storytelling often uses memory as a tool for suspense. A character remembers something they should not have forgotten. A house remembers the people who once lived inside it. A place holds echoes of events that refuse to disappear. These ideas resonate with readers because they mirror something deeply human. We all carry memories that feel unfinished, as if they are still speaking even though the moment itself has passed.
Scripture frequently calls us to remember. Not simply as an act of nostalgia, but as an act of spiritual awareness. Remembering reminds us of God’s faithfulness. It shows us patterns of protection, correction, and mercy that become clearer with distance. When we forget these patterns, fear often feels louder. When we remember them, faith becomes steadier.
Sometimes the memories that return are comforting. Other times they are unsettling. Both have purpose. Comfort reminds us that we have been loved and protected. Discomfort can remind us of lessons we once resisted but now understand more fully. Even painful memories can become evidence of how God carried us through seasons that once felt impossible to survive.
I think readers are drawn to supernatural fiction because it reflects this layered relationship with the past. We sense that time is not as simple as moving forward in a straight line. Certain moments linger. Certain places feel charged with history. Certain experiences follow us, shaping our decisions long after they have ended.
What fascinates me most is how memory can act like a whisper across time. It can guide us away from repeating mistakes. It can encourage us to step forward with courage when we recognize that we have faced darkness before and survived it. Memory can even restore gratitude when we realize how many unseen answers to prayer exist within our own history.
There is also a quieter truth hidden within memory. Sometimes God allows us to revisit certain moments not to relive them, but to reinterpret them. We begin to see His presence woven through events that once appeared random or overwhelming. What once felt like chaos begins to reveal purpose. What once felt like abandonment begins to show signs of protection we were too overwhelmed to notice at the time.
This is why memory can feel alive. It is not trying to trap us in the past. It is trying to teach us something about who we have become and who God has been throughout our journey.
As both a believer and a storyteller, I have learned to listen carefully when certain memories surface unexpectedly. Instead of dismissing them, I ask what they might be revealing. Sometimes they uncover inspiration for a story. Other times they offer quiet reassurance that God’s work in our lives continues long after a moment seems finished.
Perhaps that is one of the most mysterious truths about memory. It does not simply preserve where we have been. It helps illuminate where we are going.
And sometimes, when a memory returns with unusual clarity, it may not be asking you to look backward at all. It may be inviting you to recognize how faithfully you have been guided every step of the way. https://www.maryannpoll.com/