I always assume that my brain is structured in a way that at least 5% of people could relate to my general thought processes, but it turns out that some of my experiences of being a human are really just a “me” thing. I’ve often told myself that I’m just like everyone else, and that all of my personality traits are explainable by a mishmash of stereotypes and systemic influences. But I guess there’s more to it than that, and I’ve been selling myself a bit short.
Imagine the following: you see a room with a table and a chair in the middle. On top of the table there is a ball. A kid comes into the room, climbs the chair and tries to grab the ball that sits on the table. Did you finish imagining? I want you to answer for yourself now what was the color of the hair of the kid? What about of what he was wearing? Did you imagine these kind of details or you just imagined some concepts?
In my case I did see all the details and many more. My imagination is like a movie. I can imagine my future house with a lot of details inside. I can build it and rebuild it in my mind. Some people have problems to do that.
Don’t assume the gender of my imaginary child.
Ha ha, true! I was imagining a boy.
What did the ball smell like? That smelly rubber smell? What did the chair and table feel like? Could you feel the texture of the wood and the coolness? How did it feel to walk and move, like when you had your child body?