I’ve always had a healthy and ever-present imagination. I only remember what my parents have told me, and their names; but, I had two imaginary friends as a child. My Dad would even set the table for them at dinner. My parents allowed me to have my hidden friends with no question. It is very appreciated now. Shirley and Freddie–my friends–would also die often. I remember that they would get ‘eaten by sharks’ and I would alert my Dad, so as not to waste his table-setting time. Freud would have had a field day with my frequently brutally massacred, yet immortal imaginary friends!

Since, I guess, the age of thirteen, about 75% of my life has theme music. It is in my head. Sometimes it is a hit, well known song and sometimes it is just random music. I have confessed this to a few people and do not feel near as weird as I used to feel about it. For the record, my blogging inner-music is usually Streisand or Midler.

At night, before cell phones, when I would have trouble getting to sleep I did not count sheep; I would make up entire stories with multiple characters with intricate details about each one and their surroundings, which would change and develop. And, when the internet hit, I would always make up fantastical stories when chatting with strangers in AOL chat rooms. I catfished people before it was a thing. But, I never took it too far and back then, there was no chance of meeting so I guess I was more of a liar than a catfish!

Nowadays, I use my imagination to make up really outlandish and funny (if only to me) stories about people I am not close with but know a little about because of social media. One of my best friends and I can talk all day long about a story WE made up about people we have not seen or spoken to in twenty years, acting like it is the gospel truth when we have zero facts. Maybe I will eventually dabble in some fiction writing on this journey.




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