A Dose of Fantasy

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When I was ten years old, I convinced my younger and impressionable sister that I could talk and command spiders.

I showed her where a Daddy Longlegs was lurking in its messy web, in a dark and dusty corner of our parents' house.

"Watch!" I told her. "I'll tell it to dance."

So I leaned close and said, "Dance, spider."

At the same time I blew some air towards it. This set the spider into sudden and wild gyrations. My little sister's eyes opened wide like saucers as she watched it swing around and around, ever faster in a tight circle.

She was gobsmacked! After all, her big sister told the spider to dance and here it was, dancing before us.

I think it was many years before she realised that the spider, far from dancing, was actually trying to protect itself from these large, air-blowing intruders by making itself a difficult target to attack – but there you go. She believed, and I was happy to let her.

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Fantasy – immersing one's self in a place or situation that does not exist in reality – has been a major part of my life.

As a child, the plane of reference I created between reality and make-believe was altogether absorbing, but fun. It was even more fun to include others in my imaginings – like my trusting sister.

But as I grew older, fantasy became more a solo opportunity to escape unpleasant situations - a refuge rather than recreation.

A while ago during a difficult personal stretch, I escaped for a whole year, if only in my head. Tolkien's Middle Earth became my bolt-hole. Whenever I could, my mind ran a virtual movie in my head, in Ultra HD 3D and Surround Sound. Instead of giving in to depression, I chose to live in an otherworld of elves and dwarves bent on worthy quests, fighting Orcs and other vile forces of evil.

Unlike certain aspects of my life, I prevailed over these threatening foes and did so in the company of my imaginary friends and companions. Analysing this behaviour today, I suppose I had gradually constructed a form of auto-generated psychiatric therapy which got me, and quite successfully, through mentally tough times in one piece.

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So how did this all work?

Well, I started my fantasy when I awoke, continued it as I drove to work (yes, driving whilst escaping the clutches of Mordor is possible!), put it on pause during the working day itself, then began it again as I drove home. At night, I continued the story until I went to sleep. In the morning, I began again from where I left off the night before.

Sounds tiring? You bet it was! But I did not need to smoke or drink – or worse – and I concentrated on this unusual diversional tactic so as not to dwell on unhappy and distressing thoughts.

Eventually the crisis improved and I was able to wind my story up to a close, although it took the whole year to resolve. The journey was over, the quest was achieved, and I had survived.

The End. (giggles)

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Talking about movies real or imagined – I am one of those seemingly few people who stay until the last credit has rolled past on the silver screen. My finger tapping friends assume, I imagine, that I am particularly interested in who the third gaffer was, or maybe the name of the on-location catering crew.

The truth is, I am in suspended animation. I had been part of the drama for nearly two hours, and I am still in the drama as long as keep my eyes fixed my eyes the screen.

Because I know that the minute I come out of the movie house and hit the bright lights of the foyer and hear the noise of people wandering off noisily to graze at the food court, the fantasy breaks. Forever. Whatever strange brainwaves I developed in the dark of the cinema become violently erased.

It is almost painful and always leaves me slightly down. I never want to leave, especially if the movie was really believable, like Avatar (and I wasn't the only one who developed withdrawal symptoms after that masterpiece finished!).

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The ability to shift your mind into another plane of existence is, I think, becoming quite rare. Not everyone can, or wants, to do it. Most mainstream people seem to find all the diversion they need in the sound and sight of social media. For them, silence is definitely not golden.

However these days I don't withdraw into fantasy to the extent that I had done. I'm in a good place. I don't feel the need to escape my reality as it is now.

But I can still look back on that trying year with head-shaking wonder, and I will always hold a fond regard for my many friends in the shadows who were there for me when I needed them the most.