poka bean

active imagination

When I was a kid, I had an incredibly active imagination.

I imagined I had 10 brothers and sisters (since in real life I have only one and this seemed like a great shame to me.) I gave them all names and every morning before school I would close the bathroom door and quietly recite the same speech into the mirror as though I was telling my classmates about my giant family for my day of show and tell. I made sure to include personal details about each one of them in my speech, i.e. "Colby is my oldest brother. He's 18 and he's on the soccer team and has a really pretty girlfriend." Colby is the only one I remember now. Long live imaginary cheese brother.

I imagined I was an Olympic gymnast and performed difficult vaults in my backyard using the mini, circular trampoline my mom got at Price Club to exercise on (and I don't think ever did...remember those?) as my springboard and the stucco-ed retaining wall as my vault. I nailed it every time.

I imagined that my boogie board was a horse named Misty and that the act of riding the whitewater of some awfully wimpy waves at Cardiff State Beach was actually the two of us on an epic cross-country adventure.

I imagined that all of my clothes could talk to each other and I would strategically re-hang my clean laundry in different locations in the closet so they could all get to know each other. I'd hang one piece up and say out loud "Blue Shirt, this is Red Shirt. Have you met?" (Okay, was this revealing too much?)

I imagined I had to drive the afternoon carpool to pick up my imaginary kids after school and would ride my bike all over the neighborhood stopping in front of the same houses on my carpool route and talking out loud to my "kids" as they hopped in the "car". It's a wonder so many of my neighbors later asked me to babysit for their children after witnessing such dementia.

I imagined that the giant tree in my front yard was a big, two-story house and that each of the big branches were different rooms. There was a kitchen, two bathrooms, two bedrooms, a master bedroom with it's own "exit" that I would swing out of, and, of course, a sewing room. There was also a large storage closet but it was pretty high up so I didn't use it much.

I don't know why all these memories came to me today but all of a sudden I felt so sad I don't imagine like I used to. These days, my imaginative thoughts only reach so far as dreaming that my credit cards are an unlimited source of free money and that McDonald's will start serving the Shamrock Shake year round. And also that Alias is really going to come on this Sunday night, despite all evidence to the contrary.

So I've decided to try to re-activate my imagination a little and I thought it best to warn you. If you see me driving down the freeway talking to myself, fear not. I'm not going quietly mad, I'm just talking to my "kids" in the back seat. And if you're laying at the beach this weekend while I attempt to surf and you hear me whinnying from the water, don't be alarmed. It's just me and Misty (all grown up) on another epic adventure. I think I'll not revert to introducing my clothes to each other but I make no promises about resurrecting Colby and the missing 9. I'm too young to be old, and I never did get any brothers so I figure I might as well.

Posted by Poka Bean at 4:24 PM