Write a new post in response to today’s one-word prompt.
Three cheers for imagination! Isn’t that what all of us wannabe writers are all about? (I know, some of you have made it to actually being published, but I’m still in the wannabe category.)
I loved this picture. Plugging the brain into the imagination socket? Brilliant.
Scientists tell us that we actually use only 10% or so of our brain at any given time. I don’t know about you, but I think my brain goes into overdrive when I’m just on the cusp of deep sleep and the climb back up into wakefulness. Sometimes, my imaginary events, people, and landscapes are far more colorful and interesting than what I actually wake up to. Sometimes, my dreams are real enough that Terry tells me I’ll call out, but he knows I’m sound asleep. I’m going to have to take his word for that, since I don’t remember doing any such thing 🙂
I never, at least in my memory, had an imaginary friend. I did, however, make up all sorts of imaginary adventures for my assortment of dolls and stuffed animals. I would use different voices for them so they could have conversations. I could spend hours, on a rainy summer day, playing in my own imaginary world.
I didn’t have Play Station or any other e-device back then. In fact, we didn’t even have a TV until I was in the third grade. Imagine that! No cell phone, no computer, no iPod, no tablets. Tablets were things you wrote or drew on with pencils, pens, crayons, or whatever else you had handy. They were made of paper. Remember paper? I wrote bad poetry and pretty good stories on my paper tablets.
I have three grandchildren who live nearby. They are limited by their mean parents to only 30 minutes each day on their e-tablets. Other than that, they are expected to entertain themselves–and they do! They make up their own games; they create plays from the books they read, including costumes and sets. They’re outdoors quite a bit, running and playing like healthy children should. They are very good at imagination.
We used to do that, too, in our neighborhood. As evening came on, we played hide-and-seek; we played Red Rover, Mother May I, and other games that kept us fairly close to home. When the street lights came on, it was the signal that we’d better head for home.
Wonderful, creative, physical outdoors play. Jump rope, hula hoops, tag, work-up, 500. Remember all that? And if it rained, we’d go to a house that had an enclosed porch and play jacks, paper dolls, or whatever else we could think of.
If it hadn’t been for our ability to enjoy the imaginary, we’d have been a bored bunch of kids whining about not having anything to do.