Still seeing in the dark.

 “Just checked my blog, Still Seeing in the Dark 2025 —3 views already! I don’t know who visited, but thank you. Every view means a lot to me.”

Threading Through the Light Right now, everything inside my mind is a bright gray—like I’m looking through a dense fog, but not quite. It’s lighter than that. More like a glowing mist that fills my inner vision. And drifting through it are these very thin yellow stringers, floating slowly, like threads carried on a soft breeze. Emotionally, I’m not sure what it means. I just feel kind of undecided. Quiet. A little bored, maybe. Not unhappy—just still. Like I’m waiting for something to shift, but I don’t know what. And then there’s this one part—almost like my ceiling. It looks like there’s a bright light behind it, trying hard to shine through. Kind of like the sun pushing against thick clouds. But it’s not quite the sun—it’s something else. It’s hard to explain, but it feels strong. Like the light is really trying to break through and reach me. At my desk, where my computer and windows are, both of them appear as long, bright whitish-gray rectangles in my inner vision. That’s wher...

When the Eyes Are Gone, the Dreams Remain People often ask me if I still dream, since I’m totally blind. The answer is yes—and in this post, I’m sharing what those dreams are really like. People often ask me: “Since you’re totally blind, do you dream?” “Do you see things in your dreams?” “Do you hear people talking?” The answers are yes, I can —and yes, I do . I hear voices. I see people’s faces. I see colors, lights, trees, cars, houses, sunshine, sunsets—everything. My dreams are alive with detail, even though I have no eyes. Just like anyone else, I dream in full color and sound. Last night, though? I didn’t dream anything at all. That happens too. Not every night is full of scenes and sounds. But when they come, my dreams remind me I can still “see” in a way no one fully understands. #BlindDreams #DisabilityAwareness #BlindButNotBroken #DreamingWhileBlind #StillSeeingInTheDark #LifeWithoutSight #BlindExperience #DisabilityStories  

            Grade School Memories: Seeing Colors, Hearing Songs, and Finding My Place When I was in grade school in New Jersey, I wasn’t totally blind yet. I had very low vision and wore thick glasses to help me read and get around. Those glasses made everything big enough so I could see the colors of people’s skin, their clothes, and the world around me. I remember those colors clearly—even now. They’re part of my memory, even though my eyes are gone today. In my classroom, all of us had disabilities in one way or another. Everyone had some sight, but I was the only one with both a visual and a hearing impairment. That made things more challenging sometimes—but it didn’t stop me. I also wore hearing aids, and I wasn’t alone in that. A girl in my class named Laura wore hearing aids too. She spoke very quietly—except when she didn’t! Sometimes she surprised us and spoke really loud. Even with my limited vision and hearing, I got to join in on all ...

  🧍‍♀️More About Me – My Journey So Far Hi everyone! I wanted to take a moment to share a little more about myself and where I come from. I’m 52 years old, born and raised in Paterson, New Jersey. I lived there during my early years, then spent some time in Union and Vauxhall, New Jersey. When I was 14, my family moved to Irvington, NJ. That’s where I finished grade school and got ready to start high school. I have such fond memories of grade school—it was truly one of the best parts of my life. We did all kinds of fun things, and I especially loved being in plays. I got to act and be creative, and I was really involved in school activities. One of the people who made that time so special was my wonderful teacher, Mrs. Roberson. She was kind, caring, and full of joy, and we had so much fun together, especially during the holidays. I remember how she would take us out to restaurants around Thanksgiving and Christmas—it felt like such a big, exciting adventure. Those moments ma...

               This afternoon, just after twelve, I turned off the big screen and lay down for a while. I started listening to a few things on my phone—some audio and then an audiobook from the Libby app—when I noticed a shift inside my mind. The fiery red and dark reddish-brown glow that had been so intense earlier began to settle. It quieted down into a calm, smoky gray, with those familiar yellow floaters still drifting slowly through it. The reddish-brown didn’t disappear, but it softened, like embers fading beneath ash. It felt like my mind was cooling down just from resting. I wasn’t trying to escape anything—I only wanted to quiet my thoughts. And as if to match that moment, the rain started pouring outside, heavy and steady. Somehow, everything felt a little more peaceful.  

Right now, the colors inside me have shifted again. It’s a brownish-orange glow now, with those same stringing yellow floaters drifting around. Around the edges—where my eyelids used to be—I see a deep reddish-brown darkness, framing everything. I don’t know what this means. Maybe nothing. Maybe everything. The weather reports say there’s supposed to be severe thunderstorms today. It feels warm enough for them, so maybe that’s part of it. But the real storm seems to be inside my family right now. My grandma’s upset—deeply upset—because of a situation with my cousin, Barkim Fields. We had to explain to him that he can’t come to a big party we’re throwing: a family gathering and appreciation celebration for my grandma, with all our cousins and my uncle. Barkim didn’t take it well. He’s hurt, angry, maybe confused. And now it’s tearing my grandma up. She can’t function. She’s even talking about going back to bed to escape it all. So now I’m sitting here, watching these colors shift and...

 Right now, my inner world is glowing an orangish-brown — warm, steady, almost like a quiet room at sunset. But drifting across it are thin, stringy yellow floaters. They don’t feel gentle. They feel like distractions — interruptions from everything happening around me. Noise. Movement. Thoughts pulling me in different directions. I’ve come to recognize these floaters for what they are: signs that my mind is being tugged away from stillness. These colors aren’t random. They have meaning. They reflect how I feel and what I’m experiencing, even when I can’t describe it out loud. The floaters are clutter. The glowing brown is my foundation — where I live inside myself. I’m learning that when the floaters show up, it’s my mind telling me I’m overwhelmed or distracted. And sometimes, just noticing them helps me pause, breathe, and try to come back to center. Sometimes I can. Sometimes I can’t. But I always see them.

Last night, everything was quiet. I turned off YouTube, set my phone aside, and tried to settle in for sleep. But my mind was racing—with excitement, with color, with memories. Even in the silence and the dark, the colors inside me wouldn’t stop. They were flaring up —bright orange, golden brown, flickers of red and even blue on the edges. I wasn’t dreaming yet. I was just lying there, wide awake… and still seeing. I started thinking about how these colors have always stayed with me. I don’t have eyes. I don’t have external vision. But inside? I still see . I remember what fire looked like—red-orange around the edges, with deep brown and gold at its center. I remember school buses being the same color as American cheese. These are things I saw when I had sight, and now they live inside me, as bright as ever. They don’t fade. They flare. I think that’s why I wanted to start this blog—to show that even though I’m blind, my inner world is full of color. It’s personal. It’s emotional....

Welcome to my world. I’m totally blind, with no eyes—but somehow, I still see. Not the outside world, but vivid colors, shapes, and lights that live inside my mind. Bright oranges. Yellow floaters. Even flickers of fire I remember from long ago. On top of that, I have high-frequency hearing loss. That means everyday sounds—like voices, traffic, or even someone calling my name—can get lost in background noise or sound far away. It adds another layer of confusion, especially when the world goes quiet at night. This blog is where I share what it’s like to live with internal vision and hearing challenges—what I see, what I hear, how it feels, and what it might mean. It’s part personal story, part disability awareness, and fully honest. If                you’ve ever wondered what blindness (and more) is like from the inside out… you’re in the right place.