"I can't remember who I am," he mentioned in passing, to all the little ghosts that had followed him from land's end.

Alarm bells fluttered! The ghosts, in loose formation, stretched outwards and swelled way up high—blocking out the sun, passing through one another in an infinite dance.

The ghosts each contained (through loving observation and piercing insight) a part of his personality, in the event that something like this ever transpired.

And they proceeded to remind him, through flashes of imagery like a movie slideshow, of just exactly who he was, and which way he ought to be going, and presently, presently, thus, thus... Wrapped in a kind, neat bow, at the finish.