In experiments done over a century ago, a physicist established that what we regard as solid matter is largely empty space. The tabletop under our dishes, the bookshelf holding our books, the dishes and books themselves, our bodies, and the earth beneath us: all of this is void in which tiny concentrations of mass float, widely separated from each other. Yet what we call solid feels hard to us. It does not yield to our touch, and no solid may penetrate another without partly destroying it.
So what is our sense of the solidity of things? Do we create it from a collage of sensations that we are convinced is real? But if the physics experiments are correct, then our senses deceive us about reality. And if this is so, how else are we deceived? How else is our reality unreal?
Yet if we do create from our sense impressions a certain so-called reality, are we not also free to create a different version of it? Perhaps the popular idea that each of us creates his or her own reality is truer than we realize.