Plato's Cave: Evidence from Mental Imagery

Mental Imagery, Hallucinations, and Dreams

The subjective experience of hyptnotism, hallucination, and dreams, as well as the world of mental imagery all indicate that the brain is capable of creating a complete representation of local space around the body, with the body mapped to the center of that space. Again, by complete I mean not that the world of the mental image contains every detail that would appear in a corresponding real world, for our subjective experience of these worlds is often an impoverished one, often containing less color and texture than a real percept. I mean rather that the space around the body is mapped in its entirety, even if the details are filled in only sketchily. This spatial representation is vitally important in daily interaction with the world. Consider a tennis player stepping back to return a long shot. While keeping his eye on the ball, the player must anticipate within a high degree of accuracy the exact level of the ground behind him in order to anticipate when his foot will make contact with the ground. A discrepancy of only an inch or two between the actual ground level and the player's expectation of it might be sufficient to make him stumble and miss the shot. Furthermore, the player's spatial map of the ground behind him must include the approximate location of the back line, so as to allow him to estimate whether the trajectory of the ball would take it out of bounds. The ability to perform under these circumstances suggests that the tennis player maintains a high resolution spatial map of the world around him, including the unseen portion behind him, which is "filled in" or interpolated from the visible features around him, and from somatosensory information from his feet. There is a qualitative difference between the visible world as seen in front, and the invisible blind sector behind, the former having a great deal more color and texture, while the latter is perceived more like the mental image, largely devoid of color and texture, but nevertheless this representation is still spatial, as evidenced by the way it is used by the tennis player for spatial calculations, and it appears to fuse seamlessly with the visible portion of the world at the edge of the visual field.

Another example of the use of spatial interpolation is seen in the man walking down the stairs carrying a large box that obscures the view of his feet. A single glance around the side of the box is enough to mentally map the stairway in sufficient detail to subsequently position the feet for a number of steps. This is really a rather remarkable feat that is difficult to explain without the use of a fully spatial map of the obscured portions of the view. The visual system appears to "fill in" the unseen portion of the stairway from the memory of that single glance, with the help of somatosensory feedback from the feet, as well as the spatial context provided by the surrounding stairwell. This geometrical model must be updated with every motion of the man's body in order to constantly monitor the critical distance between the man's foot and the next step. Again, this distance must be modeled with a high degree of precision, as can be seen by the small deviation in regularity of the stairway which would be sufficient to make the man stumble, especially if that irregularity were introduced after his initial glance at the stairway. Furthermore this example shows that the spatial mapping ability of the brain is not restricted to creating simple planes as in the case of the tennis player, but can map a more complex geometrical structure such as a stairway.

A simple mental exercise will emphasize this point. Imagine holding a geometrical box, shaped either as a cube, or a pyramid, or a truncated cone. It is possible to cup the imaginary form in your hands, and to polish its imaginary faces with your palm oriented at the proper angle, or to follow the imaginary corners between faces, with your fingers bent to the angles of the intersecting faces. The mental representation of the imaginary box, while lacking the vividness of a real percept, nevertheless can posses a high degree of spatial resolution and geometrical detail which is fully spatial in nature, and can be mapped exactly to the configuration of the body, compensating for the variabilities of posture.

The limitations of this spatial imaging ability are as interesting as are its capabilities. I can imagine the spatial arrangement of my living room, and I can imagine the spatial arrangement of the continental United States, but I cannot imagine both of them simultaneously in the proper spatial relation to one another. When at the scale of the United States, my living room is too small to resolve even as a single point, while at the scale of the living room the United States is collapsed into a single horizon line. This limitation is seen more clearly still when considering astronomical scales such as the size of the earth, the solar system, and the galaxy, or microscopic scales such as the cell, the molecule, and the atom. Like a roving eye, the imagination can image at any one of these scales at a time, but there are limits to the amount of spatial detail that can be represented at any single scale. This remarkable ability to automatically re-scale a limited spatial imaging capacity leads to the subjective impression that our mental imag ing capacity has no bounds. Studies by Kosslyn [7] however confirm the existence of such limits as measured by a time delay reported by subjects as they switch from one scale to the next.

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