The Tardis materializes in the middle of my living room and Doctor Who and his friend come out. The Doctor turns on my TV set and while I’m looking at the Doctor who is saying goodbye to his friend I hear someone telling how he’s going to change what it means to be human.
A few days ago I told you that I don’t actually see pictures in my memory but that they are more like shapes.
Thinking some more about that I discovered that one of the problems with drawing my pictures is that I can’t imagine what a drawing would look like before I draw it. That is because a sheet of paper has no shape except for the flatness.
Puke
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Next I thought I might try to imagine a drawing in the same way as I remember shows I’ve seen on the TV set. But then I realized that I don’t remember seeing a show on the TV. TV shows happen in my living room. I’m there while it happens.
“The long arm of Gil Hamilton” is a book by Larry Niven about a cop with a imaginary psychic arm he can stick through walls to feel and operate machines at the other side of those walls.
There used to be a time that I had tentacles growing out of my back. These tentacle touch everything I looked at. I felt everything I watched. I also had the feeling that I should be able to move objects just by thinking about it but that never happened.
About ten years ago I talk about it with a psychiatrist. He didn’t tell me I was mad but did ask a lot of questions that made clear how he felt about it.
After that I lost my tentacles. I don’t know whether that was because I wanted to be “normal” or that I just was to tired.
The last few days I’ve been experimenting with my tentacles. It does feel like I’m touching the objects I’m watch.
When I imagine touching something with a tentacle I feel a general shape. I can also imagine touching something with my hand and then I feel a little more detail. When I imagine using the tip of my finger I feel even more detail.
It isn’t something that just happens. I must make the effort to touch something with my imaginary hand.
It isn’t tiring. On the contrary. Every time I touch something using my imaginary hand I feel a kind of electric current going through my body. It’s a better feeling than orgasm.
It does explain something I never understood: When I look at something dirty I always felt the need to wash my hands. Now I understand that it isn’t a real hand that touches I can even “touch” this.
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