I see something. Do I mention every moment? The manicured bush this summer that looked like a floating anvil? I never knew bushes had tops! The ordinary drain that stopped me in my tracks because I could see the street leading up to it and then the grass leading away from it? Who knew a storm drain could be so beautiful!
It has taken possession of me this new vision. Each new sighting is like visiting another planet. If I don't report what I see in stereo they pile up leaving me tossing and turning at night; the snow, the table legs, the bumper on that car, the bush, my sugar bowl, the pot on the floor, the window sill. They all collect together and I am afraid if I don't document them, I may forget, so here I am with a dispatch of another 3D sighting. My pug in the hallway!
I was at the end of the hall a moment ago. Our dog came out of the sitting room looking for me and he suddenly appeared smaller in the hall and low to the ground. (The first time this happened, it was the cutlery holder in our dishwasher.) As he walked towards the bedroom door the walls seemed to loom up on either side of him. I could see the space between us as he walked towards me. It was elastic. Layers of space in front of him and continuing on behind him. If my dog only knew how he suddenly appeared; a little spaceman floating at the end of a long tunnel.
Seeing in stereo is not only incredible visually, but there is another thing that seems to come along with the act of seeing differently and that is how I feel as I see. It is amazing. There are no words to describe it, it is pure joy. It is a long thirst that I am finally quenching...my brain seems to say, this feels good! When I see that space I think that we are not alone, there is something bigger in all that invisible glue, there has to be. It is divine. My little fat dog walking down the hall slowly towards me looking so different. It is almost like I am in a dream or in the past. I see things as they are, but in 3D they are imbued with something that is like a feeling of deja vu. I still haven't figured out why seeing in stereo does this to me.
Imagine looking at something familiar, your refrigerator, a room in your house, or some object, and suddenly it is completely different. It is the same, but not the same. Space changes everything, but it keeps it the same. You can still say, "that is my refrigerator..." but there is this other thing that is there too and it is space. It is stretchy, bouncy, gooey and electric. I can't say it is blue, or red, or rough or wet, but it is utterly alive!
Not having it all these years makes it so precious. I wonder if I will ever tire of seeing it? It was alive in my head all these years unable to come out. Welcome Mrs. Stereo, please sit down and stay awhile!