ABSTRACT
Carla is a fantasy-prone 20-year-old college student. She writes:
My imagination is my best friend. Ever since I was a child, I lived in a special world. I could manipulate it and keep it private. It was for no one else. I talked to dolls, stuffed animals, and toys. Each had a separate personality. I had an imaginary companion, Alexis. I would ask Alexis for advice, have extensive discussions with her, and play games with her. My parents knew about her and even talked with her as I was growing up, addressing her by name. We would set a place at the table for her, and my mother and I would play games like tea party with her. I would draw her in different clothes. I have many drawings with me and Alexis. My parents told me to trust my fantasy life, it was sacred and as real as I wanted it to be. Even when I grew older, and stopped talking to rocks and trees and the sky, I had Alexis; she was part of me, always in the background, a benevolent presence. To me, she played many parts. I never had a sister. She was a sister to me in some ways, and in other ways a sort of parent figure who was always available. As I grew older, she seemed to grow with me, age with me. When I am afraid, I sometimes talk to her, and she is a source of comfort. When I have writer’s block, she is my muse. We are separate yet together. It is the separateness that is still enriching, now she is less a sister, less a parent, more a sort of guardian angel.
