Who: Matt Murdock daredevil What: Dreaming About Colors When: Mid-April Where: Matt's Apartment Rating: General Audiences Warnings: None Status:Narrative/Complete Upon Posting
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Movies depicted blindness with a certain romantic tilt. They tried to make it possible for the sighted to understand what it was like to be without sight. No one could understand what it meant to be blind unless they actually did lose their sight. Matt Murdock had been born blind. He had no memories of any kind where he could see with his eyes. The concept of color was something which was purely theoretical to him; Matt had listened to dozens of depictions of people trying to use sensation to show color to a blind person.
None of those scenarios had ever worked for Matt Murdock.
Then he'd Dreamed.
Blue was the color of the sky on a cloudless day. Clouds? They were white. Black was what happened when the sun went down or when someone splashed toxic chemicals into a pair of functional eyes. Red was the color of blood as one lost the ability to see courtesy of playing at being a hero. There were so many hues out there and he'd never imagined them being so bright, so real, and when he woke up? All Matt could do was pant for air as he wished he could bring all those colors back. What color was his floor? His walls? The sheets on his bed?
Matt stood as sounds assailed him from all sides, his senses going into hyperdrive while he tried in vain to adapt, adjust to his new knowledge. There was no one else in his place. He groaned. The sound bounced off every piece of furniture around him and, for the first time in his life, Matt could -in a matter of speaking- see his apartment. His purely functional desk. His braille typewriter. His space was completely full even though nothing had changed around him except the way he could perceive it -it being everything- and Matt gradually calmed his breathing as he walked forward slowly through the space.
It was as if he could see everything all at once. The Dreams had shown him as a boy who'd had sight. He'd saved a man by pushing him out of the way of a traffic accident only to lose his sight. Matt wasn't sure he could handle those memories in his head, but the ones where he was---so angry?
Those were worse.
He had been dreaming of colors for a while only to start dreaming about being angry all the time, being able to use his hypersensitivity to fight, hurt those he couldn't get the legal way, give them what they deserved. Matt was not a violent man. Exercise was something he did to stay fit. Matt had never been the son of a boxer who'd needed him to learn how to suture while literally blind. In another world? He was a fighter. The urge to test out what was real and what was still only a dream grew too strong to resist and Matt took a chance to try running straight ahead, toward what should be the door to his bedroom, clearing it barely on both sides with his shoulders as he leaped into the air, kicking out with his foot to shatter the bulb of a hanging chandelier he'd hated since he'd moved in.
Matt came to rest on his knees, feeling the surge of energy, excitement racing through his body while his sightless eyes blinked at a world which was slowly turning into fire.