- All
of us carry in our minds a reality-map, an internal picture of
the world and how it works, drawn from life’s experience.
This map allows us to make millions of accurate assumptions and
predictions about the world around us: If I let go of my teacup,
it will fall to the floor. If I open my door and step outside,
I will be in front of my house. This in turn enables us to
perform tasks like sipping a cup of Earl Grey or retrieving the
day’s mail.
-
- Now
imagine that you wake up one morning, pull aside the curtains
on your bedroom window, and look out to see an unfamiliar landscape.
No front yard. No houses. No street. Nothing but a vast expanse
of gray, featureless, alien terrain, like the surface of the
moon.
-
- You
quickly close the curtains and jump back into bed, hoping that
you’re dreaming. You lie awake until curiosity gets the
better of you. Peeking out once more between the curtains you
see a three-ring circus. Clowns. Horses. A trapeze.
-
- You
soon discover that a new vista awaits each time you gaze out
the window. At 9:00 A.M. the house is perched on the edge of
a precipice. At 9:10 it’s underwater. At 10:15 gazelles
graze on a sun-baked savanna. At 11:30 a train rushes past.
-
- You
decide to leave the curtains open. It doesn’t seem to matter.
Look away from the window for an instant, and the scene changes.
-
- Blink.
A cornfield. Blink. Skyscrapers.
-
- Eventually,
you retreat to your bed and go quietly mad. This is the essence of magic.
Temporary insanity. Reality in pieces on the floor, like a shattered
teacup.
-
- —From
the Essay “Suspense & Surprise” ©1998 David
Parr
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