I think I’m pulling the strings. But when I look closer, I’m not so sure.

Someone says, “Imagine a purple cloud.” And there it is. I didn’t choose it. It just appeared.

I try to stop seeing. I close my eyes. I’m still looking at darkness. Sight never asked my permission.

Someone says, “Step forward.” I step backward instead. Rebellion. Freedom. But would I have stepped backward if nothing was said at all?

I can’t know my next thought before it arrives. And I can’t know whether I’ll act on it until I do.

So where is the control?

Not in my thoughts. They come uninvited. Not in my reactions. They answer to something deeper than decision.

Maybe the hand I thought was steering was never holding anything at all.

And maybe that’s not terrifying.

Maybe that’s relief.