Close your eyes and picture a white sandy beach. Now look out over the water. The white-capped waves are rolling to the shore as the sun dips below the horizon, creating a purple-pink glow across the sky.
It's beautiful, right?
Only if you can picture it.
When I close my eyes, there is nothing. It is black. If you were to give me this prompt, I would understand and comprehend it, but I would not see it. I have aphantasia.
Aphantasia is when someone doesn’t experience what we call the “mind’s eye.” If you ask them to picture this beach scene or a character from a story, or even the face of a loved one, nothing visual shows up in their mind. Researchers estimate around 2–4% of people fall into the full aphantasia range, with many more having weaker or inconsistent mental imagery (Zeman et al., 2015; Keogh & Pearson, 2018). However, the number could still be even higher because many people, myself included, don't know there is anything different about them until they get older.
In childhood, it often goes completely unnoticed. Kids don’t realize other people are literally seeing pictures when they imagine things, so they assume “picture it in your mind” is just a figure of speech. Instead, they’re relying more on words, facts, sequences, or just a general understanding of what’s happening.
The interesting thing is that this does not seem to affect spatial reasoning. I have very strong spatial reasoning skills. Science has discovered that even though they seem like they might be connected, the ability to see an object is not necessary to "know" how it moves. I can look at a pile of things and instinctively know if it will all fit in the car and exactly how it needs to be arranged, but I don't understand how I know, nor can I visualize it. The best analogy I have heard is: visual imagery is like watching a movie, while spatial reasoning is like understanding a blueprint.
Research suggests that aphantasia may be somewhat genetic; however, none of my children have it, and no one in my family of origin has ever mentioned it.
Why bring this up on a literacy-focused blog?
This is my experiential opinion only, as this is not a hugely researched topic, although I do think that it is more common than the stats show.
I believe that aphantasia did two unique things in my life.
The first is that it contributed to my resistance in early life to read. I knew, even fairly young, that I did not enjoy reading in the same way as other kids. Learning to read is hard. I can't help but think that if a child sees vivid pictures in their mind's eye when they read, that is going to be highly motivating. Without that reinforcement, it was a harder sell for me.
According to researchers, people with aphantasia often compensate by relying on non-visual ways of thinking, including verbal and conceptual reasoning, rather than mental imagery (Dawes et al., 2020). Instead of "seeing" a story, they build a clear mental understanding of what is happening and why. This different way of processing information can still support strong comprehension, especially in analytical or informational reading.
Kids like this might really thrive reading almanacs that have pictures and text, encyclopedias, nature journals, and other non-fiction. Nonfiction was my gateway to becoming an avid reader. I adored facts, and I would sit and read through encyclopedias for hours. In college and young adult life, I would devour research. Later in my thirties, I grew in my resolve to read fiction, and now it is my favorite genre.
We don't need to “fix” kids to see more visually, but if a lack of visual imagery is causing resistance to reading, then non-fiction books can be a launching off point for reading practice that might resonate with them better. If you have a highly resistant reader, it might be worth asking them some questions to see if they "see" what they are reading or hear being described, or if the screen is dark, so to speak. Just be careful to let them know both things are normal and healthy.
While not having the ability to access visual imagery might have caused me some early reading resistance, it also made me LOVE words. I love words with the same passion that people love art. While it might sound corny—words are beautiful! They sound beautiful and they are inspiring. I love their meanings and their origins, and I believe it was this love of words that developed into a desire to tell stories. I believe that a lack of images generated by the words put all the focus on the words themselves. Understandbly, art class was never my forte, but it did make me an excellent Latin student.
I am often asked if I dream, and the answer is—yes! People with aphantasia can dream, although I honestly can't say if it is the same as how other brains dream because I have nothing to compare it to. The brain is quite a fascinating mystery.
References
Dawes, A. J., Keogh, R., Andrillon, T., & Pearson, J. (2020). A cognitive profile of multi-sensory imagery, memory and dreaming in aphantasia. Scientific Reports, 10, 10022.
Zeman, A., Dewar, M., & Della Sala, S. (2015). Lives without imagery: Congenital aphantasia. Cortex, 73, 378–380.