The very fact that many didn’t see it indicates that motion of sun was a hallucination since all should have seen the motion of sun if it was physical.
I genuinely believe my kid has seen a dancing sun. There’s a big, long, angsty story attached to that whole weekend, including me trying to break the fourth wall by visiting a priest who could read hearts and give me a clue about some stuff— but we’re driving back home. I’m upset with my 3yo and in a bad mood because of a picture he’d drawn, and he was angry with me for having thrown it away— and we’ve driven the last 150 miles alternating between grumpy silence and terse conversation. We’re going through San Antonio an hour or two from sunset, and my kid asks me out of the blue, “Mommy? Why is the sun doing that?” and I’m like, “What are you talking about?” (insert snappish Mom voice here while I’m maneuvering through rush hour) and he’s like, “It’s pink. And it’s bouncing. And it’s like a really happy smiley face.”
I don’t know if the sun was really pink. Or bouncing. Or a smiley face. It looked like an ordinary sun to me. But he was certainly not at a stage of life where he’d make up stuff in the first place, and if he was going to make stuff up, bouncing smiley pink suns wasn’t his speed. As for me, I wasn’t in a state to be getting any favors directly from God. I asked him about it a couple of times a day or two later, when we were in better moods and cuddling up for bed-- “Hey, remember that smiley sun? Was it real or was it a game?” “It was real, Mommy.”
But I do genuinely think that God worked through my 3yo to give me a pat on the head.
But just like my sense of smell turns into a finely-tuned superpower when I’m pregnant, and I can’t smell a thing when I have a cold, and normally, I’m somewhere in between— the odor is there, but how tuned I am to it varies depending on my situation. The same thing is very true for spiritual stuff-- sometimes you get a glimpse of something you’d normally never experience; sometimes you don’t see what’s happening right in front of your face; but usually, you just bump along like normal and not think about what’s going on.