86

I was a junior in high school when I learned I perceive the world differently than most. While preparing for our spring musical, my theater director brought in a guest to help us perform some acting exercises. For one activity, we were asked to close our eyes and imagine something to physically reach out to. I shut my eyes and tried to picture myself surrounded by forest trees, my target a tall mountain in the distance. Instead, I found myself staring into nothingness, stretching my arm out so far I almost toppled over. No matter how hard I tried, the mountain and trees were nonexistent. “There’s no way this works for anyone.” 

Scrolling through my YouTube recommendations a few months later, I stumbled across a video titled “I have APHANTASIA (and you may have it too…without realising it!).” Intrigued by the title’s claim, I watched. It begins with a simple test: close your eyes and visualize an apple. I did as instructed and was asked to place myself on a scale of zero to 10 based on how clearly I could visualize the fruit. As I watched, I grew increasingly uneasy at the meaning of my “zero.” I had aphantasia. 

Aphantasia is the inability to visualize, also known as having a blind “mind’s eye”. When asked to imagine something, I only see blackness. I have the ability to conceptualize objects and have memories that help me describe them, but if asked to picture an apple, I can’t conjure up an image in my head. I know from experience that apples can be red and have smooth, shiny surfaces. You could find them on a tree, cut up into slices, or on a cafeteria tray. I know these things about apples, but I can’t close my eyes and actually see one in any of these situations.

I always assumed “counting sheep” was a metaphor. I’ve heard others can read a book and create scenes and characters so vivid it’s almost as if they’re watching a movie. For me, reading is simply making sense of words on a page. I had no idea my imagination was any different than others. 

Aphantasia also impacts my memory. I struggle to remember the places I’ve been to. The same goes for faces, even those of my loved ones. I can describe individual features of people in my life, but I can’t close my eyes and put those descriptions together to visualize their appearance. To combat these inabilities, I take pictures of anything and everything.

If you relate to any of my experiences, you may have aphantasia too. There are many online tests you can take to determine where on the phantasia spectrum you fall, but here’s one: close your eyes and visualize three spheres. What color are they? How are they arranged? Can you move them around? Change their size? How would you describe their texture? 

To an aphant, these questions make no sense. If you know you’re thinking of these spheres but can’t actually see or manipulate them in your mind, you likely have aphantasia. 

Aphantantasia is not having a bad thing, it’s simply a different way of experiencing life and perceiving the world. There are even potential benefits to having it. Aphants may have an easier time living in the moment and may be less overwhelmed by grief compared to those who have vivid mental imagery. They may be less affected by scary stories, find it easier to concentrate, or have a greater ability to think abstractly.

People can go their whole lives without knowing they have aphantasia. Awareness of the phenomenon can help individuals understand themselves and the way they go through the world better.

Staff Writer

More From Opinion