Stillborn Recollections 1

At first there are dim memories, stillborn recollections all faded ingloriously.
I can remember the most distant, farthest day, or rather maybe I can recollect the dim dream of it, the fantasy notion of what it should've been. This memory is so distant and over the years I've categorized it so many times as "the earliest" that I can no longer tell if it's real or just a fantasy...
I remember being in the house, which was a simple dubrown brick house, dark and dull, thought to me it seemed like a huge homely brick castle all full of massive dark rooms, the utter idea of HOME...
I seem to see a darkened livingroom, remembering the siblings who were themselves tiny infants at the time, me padding my little infant arse around the rooms. It's apocryphal and foolish to think that I can remember actually wearing nappies, and yet maybe I can. It was early evening, all was blue hush and home, I'm really beginning to think this all happened in a dream but I seemed to see a bright yellow kitchen, looking up to my friendly mother young and flared turning round peacably by the grill or by the antique glossy kitchen tiles all yellow and flowery, plastered linoleum and wallpaper smelling sadly of the 70s...
I seem to remember my dad or maybe the simple idea of my dad's presence there in that house, in one of the dark, warm rooms, far-off, perhaps pressing together his lips, half-amused by the ruddy TV, lounging with his vest and with his beard...
In my earliest memories my dad is seldom present, just the ever-present, inevitable idea of him.
This is my rememberance of being a joyful, glad little baby waddling around, but maybe I fantasised it.