When Veronica Connors signed up for the sleep experiment at the university in which I was interning, I had no idea that our paths would not only intersect- but merge in a way that I didn’t think was humanly possible.
The experiment itself sounded like something out of a sci-fi movie from the 80s—or some new age pseudoscience at best.
The experiment was simple enough.
The subject, in this case, Veronica Connors, would fall asleep in one of the testing rooms provided by the university.
My job as an unpaid intern was to sit in the brightly lit, antiseptically sterile, boring room that was conveniently located right next to the test subjects sleeping room.
For six and a half hours, I would sit in that room by myself and stare at a preselected piece of artwork, or listen to the same sixty seconds of a predetermined musical track while concentrating on the sleeping subject.
The experiment was to see if, through any means, a simple image, melody, or abstract thought could be transferred from one person to the next.
Crazy sci-fi, right?