Sometimes I feel like a queen in the country of myself. I am large and comfortably in charge there. I have vivid daydreams about hitting the lottery big-time. Oh, what I would do with my winnings! I would start a scholarship fund specifically for young men of color between the ages of 18-28 to fund post-secondary education or training. I would donate books to libraries in the Boston Pubic Schools and see if I could endow a librarian position. I would provide down payment money for a few friends to own their own condo or house. I would provide a fund for summer enrichment programs for middle school kids. I can go on and on and do, until reality hits and I am reminded that I am not in fact queen and I am not in a country of myself.
Still, I visit the imaginary world often. Since I was a child I’ve made up stories, poems and lyrics. I’ve entered the fictional world created by writers of the numerous novels and short stories I’ve read. I’ve projected myself into stories and explanations I make up about neighbors and colleagues I do not know, strangers I see once, and semi-known people who regularly appear in my life. I wonder – what is the story with the twins who work at the local corner grocery/ liquor store? What does my hair dresser’s home look like? What is it like to have a chipper personality like a former co-worker who was always happy? Does that house hold joy or secrets?
I walk around with all these on-going conversations in my head, stilled only when I pray or meditate or walk or cook or make love.
I’ve been known to have imaginary arguments, where I get so and so told (whether they are a remote foe/threat or known itch/irritation). Sometimes I wear myself out drawing an imaginary line in the sand. I have private battles and challenges with myself. The next time that she does this…the very next time he says that…I’m gonna… Oh, I get people righteously told in my imaginary conversations. In the real world, I rarely tell people off because I have a mind that quickly thinks venomous thoughts. If put into words, these thoughts would not be forgotten. So I bite my tongue and create a character to say in a story what I will not say in the real world.
That imaginary world is calling me now. They know me there. They miss me. I worked so hard today they didn’t get much of my attention until now. Here comes the Queen…All rise!