Sometimes, when I'm at my most introverted (and, usually, somewhat depressed), I will concoct vivid fantasies. No, I'm not talking about sexual fantasies. Mine are more like movies, but with less suspension of disbelief. Though the plots are unlikely, I require a certain amount of realism in my reveries. Motives and backstory have to be logically sound. I will develop every detail: the order of events, where I am, what I'm wearing, the exact dialogue. When these moods strike, and when I get invested in a storyline, I can indulge in it for days. Occasionally, especially if I go too long without social interaction, I will have flashes of forgetfulness where, for a split second, I think the fantasy is real.
I wonder about the sanity of this. And I think about aging, memory loss and dementia. When I'm old and fading, will I think these things really happened? Will my elaborate daydreams become mixed up with my true memories? Will I become convinced that I actually won the lottery? Took a bullet for a friend? Behaved heroically in a hostage situation? And, if so, will that be damaging, or just eccentric?
Or, since it's early afternoon and I'm still in bed & pajamas, maybe I should be more concerned with whether I'm damaging my current self, rather than my future self.
2 comments:
Or maybe one day you'll think you actually peed IN THE WOODS!
Oh wait.
THAT TOTALLY HAPPENED.
Abi can corroborate.
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