We’ve all had this happen: You put down your keys or some other object, and when you go to look for them again, they’re missing. Nowhere. Poof - gone! But if you look again minutes, hours or days later, they’re exactly where you know you left them. Leaving aside explanations like your spouse moved the object and put it back, etc., what explains this phenomenon? Is it a brain malfunction? Maybe in the visual memory area?
I recently had this happen, and took the opportunity to try a few tests. I absolutely knew the object I wanted was right in front of me. I knew to within an inch or two of its position on my desk. But I couldn’t see it. I tried mentally naming each item I saw, looking for just the specific color of the object, even touching and naming to myself each object on my desk, thinking I could bypass the visual center of my brain by using touch. But … nada. Any explanations? (The item was exactly where it was supposed to be 3 hours later.)
Drunkenness? Blindness? Stupidity? All are possible explanations. Sorry, but I’m not permitted to tell you the secrets of inter-dimensional borrowing of objects because you wouldn’t like to know the details of what we are doing with your toothbrush.
It has to do with Bigfoot. Bigfoot are able to hide in plain sight, slipping in and out of dimensions. Sometimes they borrow items from this one, accidentally taking them with them when they must slip through in a hurry, i.e., you open the door to your office and surprise them. But they are conscientious, and always make sure they return the belongings of others.
In all seriousness, sometimes we just cannot see what’s right under our nose sometimes.
Other times, I find something like my keys, after looking in the same spot countless time, then tearing the house apart, then coming back to see they stealthily slipped between another item or two on my desk.
Sometimes, it’s thinly buried under other items or papers, and they seem to appear out of nowhere, when you move on, and move things around, etc.
I’ve come this close to attaching a neodymium magnet to the remote, and use a metal detector to find it, for all the time, effort and grief I put up with trying to locate the damn thing in a house with 2 kids.
Okay, this is a bit interesting, and I’ve tried that technique of looking methodically at each item and naming them out loud, coming up empty handed. But only when I’ve truly lost something. Never when I know I placed it there.
There was an episode of a Twilight Zone type of show that I dimly remember that address this type of thing. This guy came loose from time and ended up a few minutes into the future, and he discovered that the world was built, minute by minute, by a crew of faceless construction workers. When something goes missing in the way you described, it was found usually to be an error in the construction plans. There was an auditing team that would catch this sort of stuff, and usually repair it a few minutes or hours further into the future.
I posted a recent example of mine in a thread a couple months ago.
The main “instigator” in my house is my bottle of wood glue. I can never find it on the first search. This is such a problem I have a spot on my workbench where I keep it. And it still happens. It gets nudged a couple inches over, something is next to it, etc., all throw off my visual search just enough. Don’t see it. Start searching other places where I had used it recently. Come back. There it is. Got a new bottle recently, happens with that one too, so it’s nothing to do with the particular bottle.
I knew the classic grumpy old guys when I was a kid who insisted that everything had to go back on their workbench exactly where it was. Seemed a bit crazy then. Now I’m one of them.
A recent episode of QI gave the tip to say the name of the object you’re trying to find, over and over, i.e., “keys, keys, keys.” This activates the correct bit of brain for finding, or so I heard.
Pencils, I have an outdoor covered shop I work in daily doing wood work. My pencils are yellow and standout. A few years ago I decided I would never look for a pencil again. So I buy pencils by the box. Logic being that when I set them down I will eventually saturate all the set down places and pencils will just appear wherever I need them. With 200 pencils laying around the situation has improved but I still find myself looking for pencils, I really refuse to look now so I reach for the box and grab a new one. I hope I live long enough to see my shop eventually hit the pencil saturation point where it can no longer absorb them.
I recall another fictional example, a short story titled IIRC The Forest of Time. In it, it turns out that we and everything else are constantly drifting between slightly different alternate universes; if you can’t recall where you left your keys, it might be because you forgot; or it might be because they are now in another universe, or you are in another universe. If your wife doesn’t pick up what you asked for at the store, it might be because she forgot; or it might be because the wife you asked is not the same as the wife who arrives home with the groceries.
Socks are particularly adapted to time/space travel. They use the heat of the clothes dryer as a sort of portal between dimensions. They disappear from the dryer and re-appear many days later attached to a bath towel.
This area needs more study, perhaps a government grant.
