karabasan synaesthesia

Dreams colour everything. They stain the walls and the sky, they tint the skin, they coat your words in memory and dye your thoughts with fantasy.

I don’t know how to unlive them, how to make them ethereal, meaningless. I try. It feels like trying to banish death.

Growing up, I had books instead of friends. In class, they’d call me a murderer’s son, and on the playground they didn’t waste words.

That’s not an invitation for sympathy or pity; I long ago made peace with it. It’s what happened. It’s the past.

But through the years there were always dreams, and nothing anyone said or did could ever be as isolating. Nothing could ever come close. Nothing ever has.

I’m tired and I want to sleep, but I’m not ready to close my eyes again. Maybe when it’s morning.

6 thoughts on “karabasan synaesthesia

  1. I got my first modem when I was twelve or so, I think. Grade seven or eight, whenever that was. Used my mom’s work laptop to dial into Bob’s Back Room, and nothing was ever the same again.

    According to the list, that was in 90 or 91 (because it was before it went down and switched exchanges), so I was 10 or 11, I guess.

    It’s funny, I use ‘growing up’ to mean everything-that-happened-before-I-went-online. I’m not sure what that says, exactly.

  2. Wow, I didn’t know anyone bothered to compile such a list. There’s a lot of omissions, though. Robyn’s First Orgasm, Imperial Illuminated Base, Panther’s Cage… I only remember enough info for the second one, though.

    Holy shit, though. That was a great little trip back in time. I did find a website a while back that had a telnet portal to a BBS. That was kinda neat.

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