The memory of that empty city still lingered. At first, Flash told himself it was only a dream. Its persistence told him that this was a big dream. One he should pay attention to. That warped reflection that he had made eye contact with in the bakery played back like a repeating film reel. It occurred to him that the shadow he cast on the pavement was like the child he carried in his heart. It was part of him, always following along, even though it was nearly forgotten. It was dark. Featureless. Just a shape that conformed to whatever surface it happened to fall onto. So many details of his own life clung to him in this way. Unexplored inclinations that he or others had dissuaded, and perhaps labeled inappropriate. Stop crying. Don’t say that. Settle down. Be on your best behavior. Just get over it.
He had closed the door on those reactions or impulses, settling on a narrow, more acceptable approach to life. Those aspects of himself didn’t go away. They clung to him like his shadow. When life’s light was behind him, he saw the shadow as foreboding and dangerous. When the light was on his face, he was unaware of the shadow he cast.
When Flash met his child self in the cave, he was happy. Maybe he just needed to reacquaint himself with his shadow. To love the flow of those things he had shut down. They were still in there, just as his entire life was painted into the layers of Olo. But how could he access them? His inner child could help.
If he could name one thing from within his shadow, he could bring it into the light. One piece could lead him to another until everything was illuminated. He could love them all unconditionally, the way he loved the child he was.
Parts of him had been judged, and pronounced bad. As a small boy, he had accepted those verdicts, but now he only wanted to recover those stolen treasures. He was happy to discover that he’d not lost anything.

Lost doesn’t always mean gone.

They had only been put away for safe keeping.