Time is what we make of it. The past is how we recorded it. We cannot prove, after all, that the past exists, we only have the relics left from it. If it is not recorded, it didn't happen, as we cannot prove it's occurence.
Before I start on my next Commodore 64 YouTube video, I wanted to tell of a memory of mine. It just hit me in a flashback, a memory of a particuar side-scrolling platformer that was actually for the Commodore 128, not the Commodore 64.
The problem is, I can't really tell you more than that. Because this game didn't actually exist, as far as I am aware. This game instead was occasionally seen in dreams I had as a kid, playing on my father's Commodore 128. And I know it couldn't have existed like that because a) we had no Commodore 128-specific games, and b) this game was in color and my fathr only had a green monochrome monitor for his Commodore. I used my Commodore 64 on a television, but never had the Commodore 128 hooked up in this fashion.
I don't know if perhaps this was based on some game I saw running at a store or something, but I do know that this recurring game is not something I ever actually played. Yet, in the realm of the memory of the past, it is as real as anything else. The past is fragile, the only truth that which is written. Because, within the realm of the mind, there is no fact from fiction, the past can be whatever anomalies our mind fills it with.
Date posted: 29 May, 2009 Tags: computer dream new_alexandria
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