Imaginary Friend Fiction: Smack Dab in the Imagination by Dia Calhoun

When I was little, I had an imaginary friend who wasn't allowed to play with me.

I've had more gasps of astonishment, laughter, disbelief over that line than almost any other. Try it at a cocktail party sometime. I've had so much reaction from the line that I used it as a story prompt at school visits.

I made that line up. It isn't true. I didn't have an imaginary friend who wasn't allowed to play with me. But what interests me is people's reactions to the line/setup. An imaginary friend is supposed to be . . . a friend. Why else make one up? And who in this imaginary world is not letting her play with me. And why not? Story naturally flows. Possibilities open.

The line/setup is so interesting because it seems to contradict conventional ideas about the purpose of imagination as what . . . consolation? Pablum? Doesn't the person doing the imagining have control over what she is imagining?

This is fun. This is imagination.