Colour exists despite colour-blindness. Sound, despite deafness, continues to be sound. Why should the limits of perception range affect what is in existence?

It is invisible, inaudible, and yet you know it is there. One sense, beyond processing, interpreted as if it were another perhaps? The flavour of a colour? The scent of an energy. It may know you, react to you despite being beyond sensing. Or it may not; perhaps you are the sound of deep crimson, or the touch of distant screams against it's skin. Reality becomes an objective study.

And the others? They persist as energy; a moment which has left behind a stain perhaps, soaking into the stones. Here are the echoes which flow along the fourth dimension, perhaps through the medium of the fifth; a blot on the canvas or else a tear.