The ripeness in the air

I wish there was a single word to describe what this is.

It starts from something you've known but quite unfamiliar to you now. It's as if it was there but not really. There's this impalpable need to make it known through the senses.

Was it because I can't remember? Or that I can't forget?

Sometimes, it's as if I feel it in my sleep. It helps that the not-so-new bed has no memories. Yet the same bed makes it difficult because of the space wanting to be filled.

Sometimes, it's as if I see it clearly. The mirage clears, the light shines on that one particular spot. And I turn my gaze to something else because the sight is too much to bear, much too bright. Or I stare at it for as long as my eyes allow it.

Other times, it's the taste that seems all too familiar yet has become an unknown. The salty and sweet combined makes for a difficult but breathtaking combination.

Writing in code was never my strongest suit.