Waking up from a 30-minute nap on a recent Saturday afternoon, I knew where I was. But I didn't know where I'd been.

There was no reason to think I hadn't followed my usual weekend routine that day: kickboxing class at my fitness center, a stop at nearby Target for dog chews and whatever vegetables looked as though they'd last a while, then a jaunt to Hillcrest Kroger for more veggies, bananas, tempting items on the bakery sale rack, and a chance to visit with neighbors from our former neighborhood.

Despite finding my sweaty workout attire in the laundry, a fresh pack of dog treats on the dining table, and a good-sized stock of almost-green bananas in the kitchen, I had no recollection of having done any of it. I had no memory of my always-lively hour of kickboxing, of walking across the parking lot to Target, of returning to the car and driving to Kroger, of stuffing purchases into the back seat and heading home.

I was scared. I feared that I might have experienced a........

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