They're more like flashbacks than anything else - usually triggered by silly little things like the weather or a particular type of fabric.

{She stops for a moment, and hopefully she's been told about Father/Hohenheim or else I screwed up and exhales.}

I... wasn't exactly normal as a human. The very fact that I have purple eyes should indicate that - they're from my mother, and they're an indicator of having what was called 'The Gift'. Except for me, in Victorian London, it was a curse, and an irredeemable fault in the eyes of my father.

I guess we have that in common, at least. Horrible fathers.