<tangent>First off, I hate being sick. Anna came down with the flu last week and, about a day after she did, so did I. Let me say that there is absolutely nothing worse than being sick at the same time as your spouse. Neither of you feels at all capable of lifting a finger to do anything and there's no one who can take care of you. Bleah. I'm on the mend now, although I think I would cheerfully stick a couple of blasting caps up my nostrils in the hopes that they would clear out my sinuses and allow me to breathe. This, by the way, explains the long absence from writing anything, at least for the past week. </tangent>
Back when I was younger, I used to have a fairly active imagination. I'm not talking "invisible friend" imagination, but, rather, my daydream mechanism was fairly active. It usually kicked in when I'd be walking to and from school or when I was just laying in bed, trying to drift off to sleep.
Somewhere along the way from childhood (such as it was) to adulthood (such as it is), I lost my daydreams. I'm not even quite sure where they went and I know that I didn't realize when they departed, but they're not there any more. Now, I'm not talking about Secret Life of Walter Mitty-level daydreams, but daydreams nevertheless. Escapism, fantasizing to get away from the mundane day.
I'm sure there's a contingent somewhere that will say that it's good to be a bit more grounded in the real world, but there's definitely a part of me that wonders where the hell that portion of the rest of me disappeared off to.
I know, I know... It's just part of the "growing-up process" where you stop being so fanciful and concentrate more on the day-to-day affairs of living.
But, at the same time, this also seems to be a theme in books and such. Two simple (and off the top of my head) examples are the movie Hook and Roger Zelazny's wonderful Nine Princes in Amber. For Hook, ignore the editorials about why it wasn't a good movie - think about the story. Peter Pan being "trapped" in the world of being normal by forgetting who he is. With Amber, it's a prince of the "true" world needing to remember who he really is so that he can claim the throne.
Sure, they're contrived. I'm even willing to grant that they're not exact matches to what I'm talking about. But, by the same token, there aren't that many "real" stories and these are definitely all shadows (pardon the Amber reference) of the same story. There's enough of an echo here, that it's curious.
There's something about the concept of losing who you are by being caught up in the world you're in. And what you lose is your "greater" self. It's the reclamation process that's not clear though. After all, I don't seriously expect to have kids and wake up one day and discover that I'm Peter Pan. [Heck, I never even really liked the Peter Pan story to begin with. Give me Winnie the Pooh any day.] Nor do I think I'll catch a bump on the head and realize that I'm a Prince of Amber.
But one of these days, the scouts from the Empire will discover that I'm trapped here on this backwater planet, with this false persona imprinted on top of my real identity... And on that day... Look out world - I'm coming back!
Author: ben@tmk.com