Within Temptation - What have you done?

Free time leads to more thinking, or in my case, to overthinking. I'm thinking about memories a lot, I mean I'm not remembering memories, I'm thinking about memory as a whole. Perhaps it's age, perhaps it's exhaustion, perhaps it's side effects of all the chemicals that course through me, I don't know. But I find myself not remembering things that I used to know so well. Songs I sang a billion times, now I mumble my way through them because words escape me. Or maybe I find myself misremembering things.
I've never been good with either faces or names, certainly not even when I was younger. One of the things that scared me the most in recent years was actually being with people - like girlfriends - and I'd panic because I couldn't remember their names. We'd lying in bed and I'd look at them, trying my best not to give away the panic in my eyes, thinking what their name was.
And memories can be repressed, or maybe supressed, one or even the both. Sometimes in dreams I remember things. Sometimes I have a conversation with someone, or walk by somewhere, and things come back to me.

There's a girl that lives in my building, on the fourth floor, two floors above me. She's lived here since forever, because I remember her since forever, and yet, I don't even know her name. Other than some perfunctory 'good day' or 'good evening', we never talked. Sometimes I'm coming in as she's leaving the building, or maybe we pass each other by in the stairs. I know she has a sister. Or maybe even sisters. In my mind they are very similar.
This has gone on for years and years.

Today I had to go out and do some shopping. Just before I left, I was in the living room - it had been raining incessantly up until a few minutes, and I got up to look out through the window to see if it was ok to go out. As I stand by the window, I see the 4th floor girl crossing the street, maybe she was going out to do shopping as well. I got dressed, went out, and came back home.
As I was getting in, I noticed that she was already there, checking the mail. I did so as well, and after saying hello, I stopped before going up and talked to her.
I told her how I found funny how we've lived in the same building for decades and yet never even talked. I might've said something else. And then she asked me if I didn't remember. Remember what, asks I? Well, we used to play when we were smaller. We played where? You used to come up to my house. I've never been to your house, that's impossible, I've never even went up to your floor. No, you did, you used to come up and we'd play. We'd play in my room in the loft. No, that's not possible, I don't remember any of that. But you did, she smiled. No, I remember sometimes I dream about a house on the fourth floor, but it's not yours. It is. How? She shrugged, and carried on up the stairs.

I still don't know her name. Damn.