I turned 50 in March of 2020, and I had never conceived that I completely lacked a mind's eye.
When I close my eyes, there's nothing but black. It's always been this way. I dream in color and I can render just about anything I see onto paper with a pencil. And, my whole life, I have been completely aware of visualization and picturing things like apples and orbs during guided meditations--including counting sheep if you cannot sleep--and I always thought they were figurative, metaphorical, or poetic.
I knew that a few, especially bright, friends bragged of having exceptionally good memories that included the ability to take pictures and store them in their permanent memory. I assumed that the majority of people were more like me than like them. I mean, the world is endlessly fascinated by people who have genius IQs or eidetic memories.