hiccuping memory

ever have one of those moments where you feel like you remember things a certain way--something about your childhood home, the way your family was together, a specific incident on the playground at school--and someone else who was involved tells you they remember it completely differently?
does somebody have to be right?
the great secret in my life right now is that i'm reading Herodotus. Only one other person knows i am doing this, as i seem to have regressed back to 6th grade when i hid from everyone the fact that i had finished reading David Copperfield, a fact which would have branded me even more deeply with the mark of being such a freak of nature that i would in all likelihood have been reclassified as an alien life form and thus have been given my own set of "germs," which could then be spread around with malicious glee by the school's vanguard of mediocrity, as they had been doing to Connor Meltzer ("You've got Connor germs!") since the 4th grade.
In any case, Herodotus is a tricky guy. He lived about four hundred years after Homer, and he is the writer of the "Histories," including a famous history of the Persian-Greek wars, and his books were popularized in Europe during the nineteenth to mid-twentieth century (he's quoted in the English Patient by Ondaatje). I guess people sort of stopped reading him, though, when they realized that there was no WAY most of the stuff Herodotus claimed could possibly be true, and that he had to have been repeating what would now be considered urban myths. A wild boar larger than fifty men rampaging in the fields, &c.
WEll, says I , SFW?
Who gets to say what happened and what didn't? From someone's perspective, that boar probably WAS as big as fifty men, bigger even! Maybe what Herodotus was doing was poking at our flimsy construction of reality, pointing to our misperception that objective truth of ANY sort is to be found in the collective memory. i'm not sure.