Sleepy Thief

Here I will right a first hand accounting of a boy who accidently stumbles into the long lost hidden treasure before finding the treasure map.

Morning: I am eating breakfast. The box of Corn Pop's cereal boldly claims that the included morsels have a "BIG YELLOW TASTE." Perhaps this is the way yellow tastes, I think I cannot taste yellow unless I have synesthesia - but I understand. YELLOW itself is just a label, however the feeling I get is in agreement so it works.
Afternoon: We are all driving in a car east, I am getting dizzy watching the opening and closing of field/sky/tree. My mom says one of her friends has been feeling "A BIT BLUE." Sometimes when I feel sad I am not color blue but I feel deep color blue - I understand.
Night: Driving home I am looking up at the night sky. It is BLACK.

Concept: If I can successfully induce synesthesia it could be a super hero calling or famed eccentric detective. See if I can bundle all senses into a singular sense of understanding. Perhaps make abstract concepts easier to work with.

Today I was in my room reading a book. My sister called me into her room saying "Matthew, look hurry." I go up and waited for the daze of blood rushing to my head to wear off, then zombie shuffled to her room. She was lying down in her bed watching an episode of Barney played out in pure static. Specks of black and white flickered across the screen but no figures could be seen but we knew it was Barney. The reception was poor. We listened to the sound of the voices and we laughed.

When I was a little child I would often spend the day with my mother.
Dad was off at work and we used to sit upstairs and eat warm tapioca pudding with rubber spoons and watch Bob Ross paint away a million trees on the television.
Sometimes it would occur to me that I needed something downstairs, but I was too afraid to go alone. So my mom would say, "I will sing you a song as you go." The sound of her sweet voice permeated the walls as my little feet made haste down the stairs, even skipping whole steps. (This scene if reminiscent of a recurring dream I had as a little kid of flying down the steps but being unable to reach them when I wanted to - floating.) Granted I still sprinted for my life, afraid of of every speck of shadow, but such a simple song gave little me much courage. Sometimes I think she would even stop, or rather I would stop being able to actually hear it (due to distance and volume) while she continued to sing. Nonetheless the song lingered on inside my head.
Imagined sound seems to still exist within me. Given a sound that continues to occur I tend to to continue to believe it is playing even if it is long gone. I kind of latch onto it and it gets stuck into my memory register. For example if I am hearing a repeated pulse or drone in the distance and it stops I might continue to believe it was playing. Perhaps it's just the songs willingness to sing, or my willingness to hear.
Another sound related thought revolves around sleep. When I was younger I would often awake to a dull ringing. The more I focused on it the louder it became. I would often find myself moving my body under my blankets in the middle of the night or rubbing my hands against the pillow in an attempt to stop focusing on the sound and get back to bed. The thing with the sound was that it never decreased in volume until I forgot about it. My stream of thoughts would make it get louder and louder to the point where I could think it no louder, but it continued to grow unbearably so. Focusing in on it did not give it any shape or meaning, only intensifying the noise. I was uncertain as to whether the sound emanated from some external source or was just something inside me like electrical residue from my dreams in my brain. It always did sound electrical in nature, like the strange sound occasionally found from an old television.