I'm yearning... I'm burning (all your stuff)

Cindy and Tracy and I played a lot of imagination games when we were small. So many of the games we played were imaginary that I'm certain we spent more time negotiating the details of the imaginary world in which we planned to play rather than actually playing in it. My memory of playing revolves entirely around these bargaining sessions - as I have no recollection whatsoever of the actual game.

I have a four poster bed with a canopy.

Okay and my room has a trap-door in the floor that leads to other rooms in the house.

Alright but it doesn't lead into MY room because my room has no holes in the floor.

But I have a way into your room too. And I have long hair down to my waist.

And I have longer hair down to my knees.

No you don't!

Yes I do.

Okay fine and I meant that my hair touches the floor.

My hair drags on the floor and has to be tied up to stop me from tripping.

No way! No one's hair can be that long.

Fine, but it's longer than yours.

No it isn't!


On and on like that. Deadlock was common. I remember the hair argument especially clearly because we brought the debate to a third party for a settlement: Cindy's mother. Cindy's mother said we were idiots to start with (since we all had short hair trimmed mercilessly by Mothers With Dull Scissors), and followed that up by adding that each of us could pretend our hair was the longest and there was no way for anyone else to prevent us from imagining hair longer than the other two. Then she lit a cigarette and told us to shoo.

The game did not resume after that resolution. There's something that Cindy's mother didn't understand, and maybe it's something that a lot of other people don't understand when they forget how imagination games work. If you imagine something by yourself it's only a little bit real. In order for it to transcend that gap and enter the world of willing-suspension-of-disbelief, everyone else has to pretend along with you. Everyone has to pretend the same thing in order to make it "real".

That's what I meant when I complained, I think. I wanted everyone else to believe the pretend-game. Even though I knew it was pretend, having everyone else pretend along with me made it easier to believe. Trying to play Imagination while someone stands in the corner smoking and saying, "Imagine whatever you want to - it don't matter to me," really ruins the game. It yanks you out of your thinly constructed reverie. The imaginary blows away on a puff of wind.

After the mourning it becomes possible to start over. Though I value my imagination and my ability to pretend - for many reasons - this time I am constructing things on solid ground. Reality. Then it doesn't matter if someone else doesn't believe - because no amount of denying reality makes it blow away. It stays right where it is. And then I don't have to convince anyone to play along with me. I can get to the heart of things instead of working out negotiations for the imaginary details.

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