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Just Imagine
When I hear about kids who have imaginary playmates, I used to get a little jealous. I am told that more than a third of us have had one at some point, and I can’t help wondering why I got shut out of this wonderful alternative reality.

Recently, I decided that there’s no sense in dwelling on this blank spot in my life, and I prepared to move on. But once I let go of my longing, as so often happens, I was open to an epiphany. My imagination is as good as anybody else’s, right? Why couldn’t I have an imaginary friend whenever I wanted to? Even at this late date?

When I seriously thought about that possibility, however, I realized that my life is too complicated already. I don’t really want another friend. I just don’t have the time or energy for that kind of commitment. Instead, I have focused my imaginative powers on something a little more practical: an imaginary acquaintance.

His name is Joel, and he’s the only person I know with that name, so that makes him kind of special. But not so special that we to hang out together or anything. Instead, Joel and I run into each other by chance. We exchange pleasantries, talk about the weather, the news of the day, and ask after each other’s families (he got a kid in college, though I can’t remember her name). Then, one of us will look at his watch, say he’d better get back to his busy day, we say so long, and return to our lives. We have no expectations for our relationship, and we don’t think about each other between our chance meetings. It’s a friendly connection, but we’re not friends. We’re acquaintances. Imaginary acquaintances.

I can’t say that I get much out of my meetings with Joel. After all, we don’t really have that much in common. For one thing, I’m real, and he’s…well, you know. Still, it’s nice to catch up every once in a while, and that always makes me feel a little bit more connected to my own humanity. To my imaginary humanity, that is.
Trump supporters are people who know what they believe.
~ JC, Bonny Doon