imaginary friend

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Years before I read Peter Pan when I was less than 4ft tall I had an imaginary friend.    Without wings, he could fly into my bedroom at night while my unsuspecting family carried-on their downstairs life-after-my-bedtime.   Unlike Peter pan, John wore ordinary clothes:  flared corduroy jeans, t-shirt, jumper and daps.    You could easily miss noticing John in a crowd of shorter children.   John had an ordinary quiet, thoughful, way  about him.   His silences matched mine.   He was good company.

Decommissioned London BusJohn could fly right through the force-field  that protected me from the monsters beyond the wardrobe.    The force-field that looked like bedroom walls but was infact protection that moved with me as I travelled through planet Wendy.   John knew how to co-pilot the big red double-decker bus,   the bus that was cunningly disguised as  my single bed.     Unlike my real friends John didn’t scream or  throw the extra pillow at the slimey poison-tongued Lizards that chased the bus.   John could use his powers of flight to lift the bus out of the swamp.   John was magic,   he could corale the heard of wild unicorns into the wardrobe without saying a single word.     He was my secret, special friend.  

John stopped joining my  evenings when, in my teens, evening adventures moved into the world beyond my parents home.  I wonder if  John’s still out there,   whether he grew up or maybe became someone real.

Sometimes I miss him  

Sometimes

imaginary friend
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6 bits of lovely banter on “imaginary friend”

  1. scarlet writes:

    Don’t worry, John is probably making friends with my horse and my little dog called Candy. I don’t think they’ll get lonely.
    Sx

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  2. Kevin writes:

    He’ll be in the rest home for imaginary friends: an agreeably-huge house by the sea with mile-long well-polished bannisters, Tizer on tap, thistles by the river and all the trees you could ever climb. He’ll be surrounded by other familars who would join him for picnics and high tea and who’d be around for foolish japes with carboard boxes and bedsheets and old pram wheels.

    Lucky bastard. (sigh)

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  3. Scarlet writes:

    Sigh. I bet they’re not missing us.
    Sx

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  4. :: Wendy :: writes:

    when I’m reincarnated I want to come back as someone’s imaginary friend, and hang out in the imaginary friend retirement home with the magic people and animals

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  5. Rob Miles writes:

    My imaginary friend left me for someone with more imagination.

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  6. :: Wendy :: writes:

    Rob, you can borrow one of imaginary friends, it gets a bit croweded here, though I have to warn you they are a bit fickle…

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