I think of my mind as being a bunch of squirrels.
The moment someone says something, I see something, read something etc. etc. the squirrels all race off, bouncing across the lawn, running up trees and into bushes.
Sometimes they all come back with something, sometimes just one or two return. Sometimes what they comeback with is useful or valuable, often it is not. Sometimes they don't come back at all. That's when you have lost me to the world. The squirrels are off exploring.
At night in the dark, the squirrels are roaming the world, looking for treats and new homes and finding treasures and terrors.