As I travel comfortably at 39,000 feet, two thoughs occupy my mind. I am fascinated by the fact that I will spend an entire month in what is effectively a foreign country and I realised that I cannot imagine visual objects.
It is a strange feeling to view your native land as a foreign country. It is, however, true for me. I know nothing of recent American culture except what I watch on television, read in papers, and hear about from friends and family. I remember thinking how distorted the world view of America was when I frist moved to England. I don’t think that anymore. It’s not that the outside view has gotten better, it’s just that I think I get a pretty accurate picture through the media. I am also excited to improve my view and knowledge of America and Americans over the next month. My current views are formed from snapshots taken one year apart during the spending frenzy of Christmas. All other images I have are of a place that no longer exists. A place that only I can see in my memories.
But I can’t even do that because I don’t imagine in pictures. Close your eyes and think about one of your favourite memories. Go on. Take your time. This article will still be here when you get back.
Did you actually see anything? I don’t. I can remember my white shorts, white socks, and white shirt I was wearing as I sat on a bean bag by the pool with a fishing pole in my hand. I can smell the chlorine. I can hear the noise of parents and friends in the stands and the splashing and shouting of swimmers warming up. I can’t see the water though. I can feel my happiness. I can feel the humidity in the air. I still can’t SEE anything. I can remember tdetails but I can’t view them. The faded blue tiles with scattered water puddles that butt agains the plaster pool edge form something in my head…but not a vision. I can describe the fog on the diamond-patterned windows that led to a wintry outside but I can’t see them.
I dream in colour. I understand that my dreams are abnormal. Not just for their content, but for the fact that they are lucid and in colour. I have read that most people are lucky to have one-third of their dreams in colour. I think you will understand why I loathe getting out of bed in the morning if you imagine the world where I have complete control of everything in full colour having to disappear before I do so. Every night I get to experience what monks fast for, what vision quests hoped to achieve, and what hallucinatory drug users have experienced since before recorded history (according to archeological finds). I know my mind has the ability to visualise things that aren’t there but I am unable to make it happen when I want to. I don’t think I spend enough time daydreaming. Iam going to dedicate more time to it and hope I can improve my visualisation abilities.
I’ll keep you posted.