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.
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?
So you imagined you were the child? Interesting.
No, I imagined I was the person watching the child, who was imagining that they were the child.
Wicked. Like when you dream you woke up from a sleep. That happend to me twice in a loop.