I sat on the floor playing with building blocks, using them to outline floor plans of an imaginary home. While I did this, I also had a story playing in my mind. In the exciting story, the heroine’s bravery and cleverness amazed everyone. Occasionally, when she spoke, I’d say her words under my breath because she was me.

My sister, five years older, looked up from where she sat nearby giving my Debbie Reynold doll a new hairdo. She scolded, “You’re a big baby, making believe all the time!”

The mini movie in my head screeched to an instant halt. I felt like my sister had dumped a pail of cold water on me. Imaginative stories ran through my mind almost constantly when I was by myself. I wondered, “Is that normal, or is there something wrong with me?”

I did not share the bravery and cleverness of my characters in the stories. In real life, I tended to be a scaredy-cat and overly worried about things that my sisters said were dumb.

Getting up from the floor, I went into the kitchen and found Mom standing at the stove preparing supper. I sat down on a chair nearby and asked, “Mom, what are you thinking?”

Mom’s practical answer made me realize she didn’t understand the question. She said distractedly, as she checked the kettles of vegetables, potatoes, and meat cooking on the stove top, “I’m thinking that someone should set the table because supper is almost ready. Daddy will be in from the barn soon.”

I didn’t know how to ask the question in a way that Mom would understand. What I wanted to know was; what do other people think all day long? Do other people use imagination to create stories in their minds, too?

As the years passed and I grew up, I have often claimed with a chuckle that before I knew how to talk, I thought in pictures and feelings. As far back as I can remember, my imagination seemed to be in overdrive. This has made it virtually impossible for me to comfortably read certain books, watch certain movies and television shows. The anxiety, pain, and sadness in the story becomes my own. Many times, feeling I can’t bear the distress, I jump to my feet to escape from the room or slam the book shut.

 Just reading about a character eating a raw stick of rhubarb or biting into a lemon instantly makes saliva gush into my mouth like water escaping from a broken dam!

When my children were in grade school, I picked up and started to read one of their library books on my day off from the hospital. There I was, a forty-something year old woman, bawling over a dilemma the girl in the story had. The real kicker was that she was doing something I would never do and was making choices that I wouldn’t make, yet I identified so strongly with her that I cried.

Last week I found the answer to the question I tried to ask my mom so many years ago. It was in an article about how some people are unable to form mental images of objects that are not present. This inability is called aphantasia. In the article one man with aphantasia said it was like having a blind mind. It was also pointed out that there are many variations in people with aphantasia. Some people don’t even experience an inner voice to narrate their thoughts. 

Experts don’t define aphantasia as a medical condition, disorder, or disability. It’s simply a characteristic, much like which hand you naturally use to write. They estimate that 2 to 4 percent of the population has some variation of it. It was mentioned that there might be a lot more than that because many people who have aphantasia just figure everyone else is like them. Unlike me, they simply never felt driven to ask anyone, “What are you thinking?”

*This is the web address of one article that I read about aphantasia.  https://theconversation.com/a-blind-and-deaf-mind-what-its-like-to-have-no-visual-imagination-or-inner-voice-22613