Marlene; Spoiled Rotten

[silver]

Hi, loves. I thought I'd have a go at writing down the fragments that came to me not long ago, in the hopes that if (dear universe, please be 'when') they're expanded on, I'll have somewhere to record and muse on them. They're genuine scraps, mostly disjointed images that came with certain knowledge, so forgive the insane lack of detail - it annoys me, too but it's insanely long anyway!

It was the first time I'd ever tried to meditate with a specific time-frame in mind. Usually I just tried to regress past my birth, and every time the results were imagined - in one case, as I mentioned on a different site, a particular 'memory' was ripped from a documentary I'd seen a few months ago. But I'm a very stubborn person, and kept trying other ways. I found this site not long ago, through someone's PL thread on that site, and... well, something pulled at me. I had a go with some of the suggestions in Regression Techniques and, when I felt sufficiently under, guided my thoughts to this era. At first there were clips of imagined scenarios, but something completely unexpected surfaced - it resonates with parts of my current life; situations that help explain some of my irrational feelings about the period.

Please bear in mind that I know very little about this piece of history. Names, fashions, foods... there's no end to the topics I know zilch about. It was something I hated studying, an aversion I've been trying to overcome so I can begin to research what I've remembered. It seems especially strange given that many posters have mentioned an attraction to Germany, or the 30s and 40s. Anyway, if anyone can shed light on whether these make sense, I'd appreciate it.

The first thing I saw was the skirt of the dress I was wearing; pale cream, possibly white, with small black designs - either the heads of roses or another flower, or polka dots. It sat out a little, as though over a petticoat, and went down to my knees. Flesh-coloured stockings made my very pale legs look less so, and my black shoes were flat and shiny - they hurt a bit to walk in, but I liked them. I was very into fashion, unlike today - but I will admit to wearing uncomfortable shoes on a night out ;]

Someone said my name; Marlene. It wasn't pronounced "Mar-leen" or "Mar-lee-na" as I've always heard it - it was sort of... Mar-lai-neh, though the 'ai' bit was short... oh, I'm so not good with phonetics. But I knew they were talking to me and I looked up and saw him; at this point in my life, he was my fiancé. He had light brown hair with the faintest hint of red in it; cropped closely but for the crown, where it was swept to one side with some sort of... gel or mousse or something? It made his hair kind of blech to touch, but as a fashion slave I didn't mind one bit. He was so handsome; piercing blue eyes, sharp features, soft mouth. Every time I looked at him I felt like I loved him even more.

But from the look on the face, I knew I'd just said or done something to displease him. I lived in fear of doing that - he was not a man to cross. I think at this stage, he was emotionally abusive. I know that he would become physically abusive after our marriage, as the war progressed. He was wearing a uniform, though I didn't take a good look at it - I was too busy worrying that I had upset him. He told me something like, "this must be done", so I presume I had been complaining about it a moment ago. I was from an affluent background and quite spoiled; I think I was prone to b*tching quite a lot >_<

Around this point, I got another fragment of how I looked; long, black hair that waved, green eyes, a petite but pleasant figure - beautiful, which isn't at all as I'd expected as I'm... all right on a good day. But somehow the looks were a problem for us. I think we were discussing how to get married - something about looking at my ancestry? I was definitely pro-Nazi and had no fear of Jewish heritage, but at the same time, I was worried about something linked to that. He didn't think I had any either, I'm sure, as he was very anti-Semitic, so it doesn't quite make sense. All I can think of is somebody thought I might be Jewish/have such ancestry, because of my dark hair or... something. Honestly I'm not clear on why my looks led to worries about my ancestry, it seemed to annoy and worry me at the time but modern me's baffled!

This memory shifted to what felt like a later one, after we married.

Despite my middle-class background, we were living in small quarters. Here's where my memory's most likely to conflict with history - I felt like it was beside the camp he worked in, like a barracks or small series of apartments? We were in our home and it was early morning - I think I'd just cooked breakfast. I was quite a homebody, I didn't seem to have a job while I was with him. Ironically, I cannot remotely cook (gave my Home Ec teacher food poisoning in third year >>) even a little, I fail miserably at sewing, I'm lazy as heck when it comes to cleaning, and I've never wanted kids. Seeing myself taking care of a home and putting breakfast on was frankly disturbing!

He was angry at me again. I... I think he was coming home drunk, though I'm not clear. But Marlene didn't have the guts, backbone or confidence to say that to him - though I felt like he knew me better than anybody ever could, so perhaps it just showed in my behaviour. He didn't say anything, just gave me a backhand slap across the face. It didn't hurt too much - he did it almost casually, without concerted strength - but it hurt me so much emotionally. He treated me like a delicate princess in front of his comrades, and I wanted so much for him to treat me that way when we were together, like he had when he first courted me. There had always been a streak of violence in him, which - I'm disgusted to say - was part of what drew me to him. But lately it had been consuming him, to the point that he would hit me when I hadn't said a word.

In all the books I've read and the TV I've seen, the abuser usually looks on the crying wife and either becomes remorseful - the old "why did you make me hit you" routine - or more angry. He did neither. He looked at me and his handsome face was just blank. There was such indifference, outright apathy as he watched me cry. Then he turned to get his coat and leave.

The last clip I've heavily considered not including. As far as I know, it simply cannot have happened. But I know some other members have included similar memories that seem impossible, so I think I will. For all I know it's a metaphor as to how Marlene fully realised what was happening in the camp her husband worked in, or even her imagining what it was like in there based on stories. I know she had contact with SS wives (I'm fairly sure her husband was in the SS, but again, I haven't had a good look at his uniform yet, I'm always busy making him mad!) so perhaps this was a story told to her, or a nightmare... I don't know.

It took place some time in the early 40s; I think '42. I'm in the camp. I was making my way back from a particular building - an office, I think, where I'd met my husband. We were to go to some sort of party, and although I forget my dress, I was very proud of it. I had my uncomfortable shoes on again, and I was fussing because the dirt was going to mess with their shine (*sigh*). We weren't walking through buildings, but rather down one side, near a fence with barbed wire. There was a sort of ditch on our side of it, I have no idea why, and my husband walked on that side. Up ahead was a small group of prisoners. They were in ragged and horribly dirty... um, sort of pyjamas, with vertical, dark grey stripes (I knew that the clothes were striped, but I always thought they were horizontal - don't ask me why). There was no colour at all in this memory.

The first thing that struck me was how disgusting they looked. I can't even... I was such a spoiled little brat. They were sickeningly thin, with almost bald heads, encrusted with mud and some things I'd rather not think about - but instead of pity and compassion, I wrinkled my pretty little nose and wished I hadn't seen them. They were being overseen by officers and seemed to be doing something by the ditch - some sort of labour, I don't know. We altered our course to go around them, and I had my arm through my husband's as he told me not to look at them. Just as we passed them, on the camp side, one of them stood up and spoke to me.

I wish I knew what it was he said. I've wracked my brains over and over, but I have no idea - I'm not even sure it was in German, or if the guards understood it, either. I know that I wanted to keep walking and pretend he hadn't addressed me, but my husband stopped us in our tracks and left my side. He punched the man, who fell down like a ton of bricks. At last I felt some of the horror I should have felt from the start. Another guard kicked him as he lay, and the others joined in. When I began to cry, my husband turned me away and ordered me to get ahold of myself, saying that he would be punished. I simply couldn't tell him that he was missing the point - that this 'punishment' was what was upsetting me the most.

It was at this point I came out of my state and wondered what the hell that was all about. I mean, wives of the SS don't just pop by a camp for a dinner-date, right? Geh, I don't know. But it was horrible, both for me and for myself as Marlene. When she saw the man fall, completely helpless, I think she finally realised that these skeletal 'animals' were people, or that they used to be before the Nazis took them. (That's her perspective; just because they were treated like animals - worse than animals - doesn't make them any less human to me.)

That's all I've got so far. Still no mention of surnames, her husband's name, her family, the camp he worked in... but I'm glad to have what little I do, compared to the nothing I had before. Thus far, the only thing I've discovered I share with Marlene is a very strong sense of humour; I'm very much her opposite. I think that's why remembering her has eluded me for so long - my ego didn't really want to know this, no matter how much the rest of me did. Anyhow, all thoughts are welcome!

[msmir]

Wow very intense memories and thank you for sharing those. Well there must be a reason you are remembering that now in your soul development. It did not come to you before because you simply were not ready. Remembering something too harsh before you are really ready to acknowledge it will cause more damage than good. We are here to heal from this experience regardless of the side you were on and you need to heal at the pace you are comfortable with. And as time goes by and the more and more ready you are to acknowledge your past.. you will have more memories..And when you are ready to know your surname and who your husband was.. you will. Be sure to make note of everything, it will fall into place, all of it when it is meant to.

[Iseke]

Ahh, wow! Thank you for sharing!

Absolutely none of that sounds inconceivable or like anything that would conflict with history--you were married to a man who worked in a camp, and that meant you lived there with him and most likely would have come into contact with the prisoners like that at some point. The camps were often located in remote areas so while they worked there they lived on site, I believe, and the married ones would have their spouses with them too I would think.

And....I know how hard it is to see yourself like this, to see the indifference and the fretting about inane things while people were really suffering. You were surviving too, in your own way. To be faced with the severity and really see it was hard, and most reacted by keeping their heads down and walking by. But your clarity now about your morality and helping others is what matters most--you have grown so much, fueled in part by that experience and others like it as Marlene, and that will help relieve the guilt, even if it never takes away that heavy sense of responsibility.

*hug* So glad you are here and are open to sharing with us!

[Laurasia]

Hi Silver.

Thank you for sharing with us & I have to agree with everything that both MsMir & Iseke wrote. I would like to elaborate on some of it though.

While I am in no way trying to belittle or lessen the abuse that Marlene suffered at the hands of her husband, I think that I maybe able to offer a bit of insight as to why it became progressively worse. Simply put your husband was going insane, while being readily permitted &, in fact, encouraged to indulge in his already violent tendencies. Perhaps he was insane with with the circumstances that he found himself in, perhaps he wanted to lash out at his superiors for the circumstances that he was in, etc. In any case....whatever form his particular brand of crazy decided to manifest you were simply a convenient target. And that detatchment that you recall from him....even in the sanest of us that was a learned behavior so that we could deal with what we needed to do in order to survive ourselves. I can only imagine to what degree a man that is already imbalanced, as evidenced by his already abusive behavior before the camp, would be able to detatch from his own violent behaviors.

The SS of the camps did live in their own communual quarters (needless to say the higher your rank the nicer, & more private, your quarters become), so your description isn't off from how things were. And, though the thought absolutely appalled Hans, many men did have their wives living with them in those quarters. And if not in the actual quarters then they often had their families living in private homes close to the camps. Some of the more unstable men even went so far as to bring their wives to witness some of the aktions of the Einstazgruppe units! That made Hans sick! So him having you, as his wife, in the camp isn't really all that uncommon actually.

Also, as to your arguing over your physical features before marriage....it may not have been any suspected Jewish background that he was concerned about, it may have been gypsy. Black hair & green eyes could have certainly made some people suspicious of that. Remember that it absolutely was not only the Jews that the Nazis targeted as being "sub-human".

Sincerely,
Laurasia

[silver]

Thank you, everyone :] It's nice to be able to share what I've seen. My brother's recently broken with organised religion, but he still believes in god - so for once he sat down opposite me and asked me about my beliefs. We mentioned reincarnation and discussed the concept of false memories, and how hard it is to hypnotise our family (apparently we're immune - doh ><) and things like that. I eventually told him I'd had a few scraps of a past life, and when I told him a little about Marlene, he stared at me in disbelief. I was prepared for that. I was less prepared for him to go "You? You wouldn't go near a Nazi without a pitchfork and a flaming torch!" and it made me smile. He didn't want me to go into any detail, though - I mentioned the camp and he gave a huge shudder and said no-thank-you. But it was wonderful to be able to tell a member of my (previously all-Catholic) family, and better still to be given a look of utter disbelief; not because he didn't think it was true, but because he just couldn't imagine me being in that position.

It sort of reinforces your understanding that you really are different, now. Still, I think remembering has already helped me be a more open person; I would never have talked about my spiritual beliefs before. Yesterday at the supermarket I found a little old lady who was planning to walk home in really horrible rain, and tried to give her money for a taxi, or have her share mine. She declined, but we did talk for a while, and she was amazing, full of insight. I think remembering when I would ignore people in need has made me more aware of them than ever.

Hi Laurasia, and thank you :] I agree that as my husband continued to work in the camp, his abusive tendencies worsened as a direct result. He'd always had an emotional hold over me, but I think the violence changed him - he expected to have a physical hold over those under his 'care'. I've never heard of the wives living on/near the camp - I agree with Hans, it's kinda sick. It's also alarming that the last memory might be true; I'm only a little blonde girl now (guess the Aryan characteristics skipped an incarnation!), but I'd have done my damndest to clobber those guards rather than sniffle and cry. I've been in situations where interference could mean death - stupid war - and I've always chosen to interfere anyway. Watching that utter inhumanity and doing nothing? That's one of my worst nightmares.

I never thought about the Roma thing. I've been more focused on what it was he said - that something had to be done - and I think it was like a... background check on my ancestry? As usual, I have no idea whether that agrees with history or not, but I think that was it. I know it was a bureaucratic type process, and it was slow and delaying our marriage, and I was pouting about it. People being massacred? Who cares, I want my wedding! *facepalm*

I hope my whining about this isn't offensive - I've looked at your memory thread and you have much more trauma to deal with. I don't want to sound like Marlene, whining about nothing at all. I guess I'm just new to this and it will take time to get used to. It's so strange; I would never, ever let you feel that you're responsible for what happened in your past life, but at the same time I feel like I am. Bloody odd double standard, huh? I've said it a few times and it bears repeating - I know the separation on an intellectual level, but not an emotional one. Seeing these things from 'my' perspective, rather than as a third person observing, makes it harder to accept that it wasn't really me.

Thanks again for the comments, loves. I haven't been able to recall anything more yet, and I think until I'm able to reconcile who I am now with who I was then, further memories will continue to elude me. But I'll keep trying, and perhaps meditate on the memories I have to try and see them from a different perspective.

[Laurasia]

Hi Silver.

Yeah having the wives & such there with us was rather sick. I mean it wasn't COMPLETELY common, but it also wasn't unheard of either. I guess to each his own but I felt then (& still do now) that, unless a women was a working member of the SS, they had no place in those camps.

Well now your present willingness to place yourself into even mortal danger for what is right just shows how much your soul has progressed since your lifetime in WWII. It really is a good thing! Afterall, would you rather still be weak-willed & so easily controlled? None of us would. Exactly what you mentioned having recalled these memories has done for you, making you even more aware of the sufferings of others, is exactly why you have had them. It is helping your soul to continue on further with the momentous growth that it has already gone through. ;D

As you mention suspecting, I'm fairly sure that your former husband was most likely a member of the SS. (The vast majority of us campmen were afterall. ) That being the case when he got married he would have needed to apply for the right to marry, as all SS marriages had to have a prior inspection of both parties' family trees for 7 generations back. So, yes, that would cause a delay in your getting married as genealogical research takes some time...even for the professionals employed by the Reich. And if you indeed were complaining about it causing a delay in your getting married he would probably get snippy about it being something that "had to be done". We didn't care for all of the red tape that we had to go through during our lives either.

And your "whining" is absolutely not offensive or any less valid than anyone else's! Just because circumstances may have been different that doesn't mean that your past life has been any easier for you to deal with than anyone else's has been for them. After each of our previous lifetimes are interwoven to some degree & the things that we had to experience could be further reaching then simply what they seem when looking at one single lifetime individually. the issues that Marlene faced may seem trivial to you in comparison to what others may have gone through at that time, but within your own souls' cycle those seemingly trivial things could pack some real punch for you.

Indeed, I would encourage you to continue meditating on the recollections that you do have from more than one perspective. One type of regression that you could try is called the movie theater regression. You simply get yourself into a nice relaxed state & visualize yourself as going to the movie theater to see a film featuring your former lifetime. In this way, you can view your past life recollections through the lens of an outside observer. This particular method was very useful for me, though it did bring up & expand on one of my most grisly recollections to date...but it did work.

Sincerely,
Laurasia

[Miss Bothmann]

Silver, thank you for sharing with us. You never have to worry about me finding you a "whiner". All Anna ever did was whine that she couldn't be married to Hans. She would think this as she walks directly past people with the stars on their chests. Still, I cannot see her as a "whiner" in that sense of the word. For Anna, it was sorrowful for her that Hans had to be so far away and that they needed to wait to get married..and wait..and wait...never to come to fruition. While the problems that she faced at the time paled in comparison to that of the Jewish prisoners, in Anna's own world...Hans was everything. For her it ate her up that they couldn't be married and be together.

I am looking forward to reading more recollections from you. I find that Marlene and Anna had a lot in common actually.

[silver]

I managed to meditate tonight, after some frustrating failed attempts, and the memory that came through was pleasant. I'd had some very brief flashes of it before - almost like still frames, if that makes any sense - but this was far more complete, thankfully.

It was before we married; I was attending some sort of function in a hall, with tables around the outside and some semi-circular booth... type things at one end; bar at the other. There were many people there, and most of the men were wearing black uniforms - SS, I think. I was in a pale pink dress with a darker pink velvet ribbon around my waist, and some comfortable white shoes because I was dancing. I couldn't make out the music, but we and the other couples were wheeling around a lot, so I guess it was a waltz. I loved to dance; the smell of beer and nicotine and the shabby (by my standards) surroundings didn't deter me from thinking this was the most beautiful night of my life.

He was a good dancer, like me, but we were by no means perfect. He'd left his cap with some of the seated SS men, and as we passed their table, he looked over to beam at them. That promptly resulted in his foot knocking into mine, and as my other foot was in the air during mid-step, my knee buckled and I sort of flailed backwards, with him leaning forward to stop me from falling flat on my back - right in front of his colleagues. With utmost drama, I let go of his hand and flourished my arm as though it had been perfectly intentional; obviously it hadn't, but it must have had good comedic timing because he and the uniformed men laughed their bums off. When we straightened and got back into step, I smiled at him, because he was still grinning and slightly shaking his head.

He said, "Ich liebe dich". I laughed to brush it off - I think we'd only just started dating at this point. But it made me so happy, enough to stumble giddily through the next turn, where the memory drifted away.

(I don't know German at all, in any way, shape or form, but I'm sure I've heard the phrase before somewhere. What I found more surprising was that I knew how to spell it when I went to google XD)

I'm glad I had this one. While I'd like to be disgusted that I was enjoying myself so much around some unsavoury types, I felt very connected to Marlene's emotions. She was selfish and spoiled, but she was also quite innocent, and loved making people laugh. I could feel the glow in her cheeks when he said he loved her, even as she told herself that he was just joking. She (or I - I can never decide which) was no more than seventeen in this memory, and her excitement was off the scale. Despite dancing with an incredibly handsome man, in front of his friends no less, and at such a young age, she wasn't at all nervous or embarrassed. Just starry-eyed with excitement and happiness.

Again, no idea whether any of this gels with history. I dunno if groups of SS ever wandered to a dance hall (if that's what it was) to drink, smoke and watch the girls, but that seemed to be what most of them were doing. There was a definite party atmosphere, so I don't think it was a routine event, but whatever it was for was completely irrelevant to me; it could have been aliens landing for all I cared.

Only afterwards, when thinking over it, did it hit me that this was bittersweet. Knowing where the relationship led changes the perspective on its beginning. Still, she - and I - smiled our way through the whole thing, and I'm pleased to have a memory that I can empathise with.

[Laurasia]

Hi Silver.

I'm so glad that you were able to have a pleasant memory of the two of you together! Especially since you had already had snippets of it beforehand. I know how frustrating that can be!

Oh yes! We SS members loved to congregate to dance halls with our girls or friends/fellow SS in order to either dance or watch. Smoking & drinking was like a prerequisite to the whole thing too! LOL!

Sincerely,
Laurasia

[privatetucker]

I would say all of your memories are indeed historically accurate. For the second, it reminds me a bit of the opening to Schindler's List, where Schindler goes into that bar where all the other SS dudes are drinking, smoking, having a good time, entertaining girls. So that was definitely common, I think.

I do know that the wives of SS guards or commandants of camps (usually the bigger ones) also did live on property. Like the commandant of Auschwitz, Hoess (sp?) had his wife and children actually living near the camp itself, which is just awful. The way you're dressed sounds pretty accurate as well.

I'm sorry that her husband was an abusive b*st*rd. I don't care what role you played in the war, but no one deserves emotional or physical abuse, it's truly terrible. And I think not seeing the prisoners as human was an all too common phenomenon, unfortunately. It's like how some people react to someone who is homeless today (just to a more extreme level). Because they are unwashed and miserable, we just want to avert our eyes and move on. We meaning the general population, not you of course or anything.

[Iseke]

Ooh, glad you are getting some more positive memories! Also, it is cool that you were able to pull more from it out of the still scenes you had been receiving up till then. My memories tend to come in context-less still shots and that can get annoying, especially since they are all across the board regarding my different lifetimes, lol.

Anyway, thanks for sharing as always! I love reading some of the happier memories we have had!

[Miss Bothmann]

Silver..like the others, I am so happy for you that you had a pleasant memory. While Hans never abused me, I have had many recollections of him being very solemn and not social..even to seeing him extremely aggressive . So I am very happy when I actually have one of him in a good mood and smiling (he had a beautiful smile).

[Laurasia]

Feb 28, 2011 14:12:55 GMT -5 Miss Bothmann said:

So I am very happy when I actually have one of him in a good mood and smiling (he had a beautiful smile).

I did? I really haven't recalled my smile all that often, but that's because I've only remembered being with you a handful of times. Thank you though, hon.

Sincerely,
Laurasia

[Miss Bothmann]

I am so excited! When I was meditating last night, I actually had a recollection of you smiling again! It must have happened more than once..LOL!

[silver]

Warning! Content may be disturning to some members!

Thanks, everyone :] I'm sorry it's been such a long time since I was around, but my mum is currently in the Intensive Care Unit. I hadn't been able to meditate for weeks up to this point - still can't - which strikes me as unusual timing. Instead, I found myself browsing stories of Holocaust survivors, something I started doing when I had my first real memories. I never used to be able to do that, I'm sure I've mentioned it, and because of my emotional reaction to WWII I'd always avoided it. I think now that I know who I was, it's more important than ever to face it.

I remembered something I'd not considered important at the time, from when I was a (fairly gawky) teenager in my convent school. I wasn't yet the atheist it would make me, but the idea of reincarnation was nonetheless hilarious, something only New Age hippies believed in (irony, thou art my life). Anyway, we were doing some exercises in drama class to warm up for our main piece, which was based on Afghanistani women under Taliban rule. Y'know, back in the day.

I'm not very skilled at anything. I'm not being modest, just factual. I can write but not with originality; I can't draw, or do maths (at ALL), or keep history straight, or even remember how to deal with cheques when working in a bowling alley. The only thing I have actual, natural talent for, is acting. I'm with a company now and have been invited to audition for a short film, so I have some credentials for that claim :P So drama class was always the absolute highlight of my school day. Our teacher had decided to do a warm-up that, in hindsight, is kind of sick, but at the time sounded fun.

We were Jews in a gas chamber. We were expecting water from the showers but it was gas, and then we died (most of us dramatically, some of us laughing their butts off). No words allowed, so it was basically a pantomime. I was fine and up for it, doing what was likely a horrible double-take at imaginary showerheads, trying to look victimised while also catching Ciara's eye so we could silently agree to collapse on each other (takes the sting out of hitting the floor), and down we went. There were faux-lifeless limbs everywhere and a few faux-corpses shaking with silent, self-conscious laughter, and we were waiting for Miss Brown to let us get up.

I don't know why she hesitated, but something hit me while Ciara got infected with the giggles. We'd thrown our blazers and shoes with the big pile of bags on the other side of the room, so we could move about and not kick each other when we fell over. I stared and stared at this pile, and then Miss Brown told the girls who were corpsing (yeah, they were corpsing while being corpses, hello irony) to quit laughing, this wasn't funny - and I felt sick. Physically, horribly sick, and my eyes began to water. Ciara asked me what was wrong and I said, 'They didn't get the giggles when the gas came out. They died like this, in a big pile.' It sobered her up but I just felt worse, and actually wiggled out of the pile and left the room.

Miss Brown came out after letting the class split into groups and asked what was wrong. When I told her, she said "Well, I know the fourth years are studying it now, so I thought it might give you an insight into what it was really like'. I started to properly cry, and she told me not to get too involved with my character. I didn't know how to tell her that I hadn't made up a character, and that the big heap of all our stuff was what freaked me out, and that people had really, honestly been killed that way and now a bunch of teenage girls were pretending to and laughing about it. That I'd seen the funny side until I saw a stray shoe beside the big pile, and truly realised that people had been herded into those chambers stripped of their clothes and their dignity and then their lives, because the people in charge didn't see it as real, they saw it as pest extermination.

It was only a little thing. I felt sick for another hour, and sat out of my rehearsal by doing the script-writing for our group. But I couldn't get it out of my head for days, constantly imagining what it had been like - not just for the prisoners inside, but for the people outside it, enabling it, guiding them into the chamber, flipping the switches. The whole thing left me with bad dreams and an inexplicable sense of guilt.

I don't know if Marlene knew about the chambers at the time, but I know she survived the war, and likely heard about it later. I wonder if she imagined what it was like, too, and whether it made her guilty or pushed her further into denial. I hope I find out someday.