Page 61 of The Truth About You and Me
Here’s another real condition: synaesthesia. This is where the senses cross over with incredible results. Some people taste sounds, others see emotions as colours, or feel days of the weeks as specific shapes.
Huh. I think back to my last session. I couldhearthe letter J, hear the sounds of the Star Wars music.
These types of synaesthesia would suggest that the line between thoughts and perceptioncanbe surprisingly blurred. What synaesthesia reveals is that the brain’s sensory restrictions are not as fixed as we once thought. Visions can bleed into thoughts and the internal can be affected by the external.
So if that clever brain of yours can mirrorandblend perception with internal thought, maybe the lines of our thoughts and others isn’t so clear cut. Might that be why we know what someone is about to say before they say it? Perhaps that’s why empathetic people have such keen insight.
Is it too big a leap to believe that these blurring of lines could link to telepathy?
Still the Scully to my Mulder?
That sentence alone should have me switching this off, but here I am.
Let’s turn to what experts call the ‘Theory of Mind’. A uniquely human ability to deduce what someone is thinking through the tiny clues we give away about ourselves: desire, fear, intention. We do this all the time, in crowds, pubs, offices, romantic relationships.
This is how we as people navigate social situations.
But consider this for a moment: if mirror neurons, coupled with synaesthesia and the Theory of Mind interlink, maybe, just maybe, empathetic people aren’t simply attuned to the mind and emotions, but actually feel or see or hear them? Might this be actual telepathy?
Perhaps. Maybe the real question isn’t if mind reading is possible, it’s: are we already doing it without knowing we are?
That’s it from me today, folks, but before I go, consider this: the next time you get a shiver of knowing something about someone, or that moment when a loved one’s unspoken thoughts seem to echo in your own head, don’t dismiss it.
Because maybe, just maybe, your brain, in its quiet, miraculous way… is listening.
I know this is some guy who is probably hosting from his parents’ house without so much as a P or an H or a D anywhere in sight, but there’s a bolt of possibility. That it’s not completely out of the realm of possibility to question if Maggie could be telling the truth.
I shake my head and let out a long breath. I’m so desperate to believe her, that I’m trying to convince myself that the impossible is plausible.
I turn off the engine as the jingle runs, looking over to Levin’s door, the blonde woman from next door waving a hand.
Christ, how did I get here? A year ago I was about to expand my business, get married. I knew my place in this world. And now I’m a guy sitting in his car listening to podcasts about hearing thoughts, who has to use Star Wars bubble wrap to find the letter J.
I’ve never felt so alone.
* * *
‘Lick it,’ Levin says pushing a green plate towards me.
‘What?’ I look up at him, his eyes peering over his thick glasses.
Levin rocks on his heels and points to the red squiggle in front of me.
‘Lick it.’
‘Why?’
‘Jack, you need to trust me if you’re going to make more progress; now lick the strawberry lace thingymebob.’
I hold my breath tightly, then exhale, bending down and tentatively licking the top part of the squiggle.
I stand back up. ‘Now what?’
‘I mean lick the whole thing. From tip’ – he points to the top of the squiggle – ‘to toe.’
I shake my head, but bend back over the table, running my tongue over the shape.
‘Now tell me what letter it is.’
