I don't remember learning memory

Memory has been a topic I feel I am writing a lifetime dissertation about. As I've watch my nana's reality slip out of her mind and interviewed memory experts for UNRAVELED, I've remained enthusiastic about how memory functions. I don't remember learning memory, but it has seemed I always knew how to use it. As a kid, when my mom passed away, I remember I wanted to commit the scent of my mother to memory. It was an instinctual reaction to her death. Coming home from the hospital, I ran to her bedroom and shut the door behind me. On the back of the door hung my mother's purple house robe, I grabbed it to my nose and inhaled it. I must have been in a meditative place, it seemed as if I had "recorded" or imprinted the memory of how my mother smelled.

Last night I was sharing childhood stories with my girlfriend and I spaced out for a moment. There was a glitch in my head, for a moment, the memory had triggered the scent of my mother. It seemed to be a part of me, This did not depress me, and I wasn't elated either, it just made me think about how we are wired, DNA, and how we define ourselves from our experiences.

I wonder how far away we are from experiencing each other's memories, and, how deeply do we actually want to share the experience? Will we download each other's data of the same experience to really feel what the other person felt? My Sci-fi self immediately picture's the last scene of A CLOCKWORK ORANGE, but there will probably be an Ipod Nano experience of this as well. Imagine saying to your girlfriend,"I downloaded your presentation you gave to the interns earlier, and I can really understand why you want to go into teaching."
That might be cool.