Imagination Holding Sway.

The imagination was in fine fettle earlier. The Lady B’s ghost had been reclaimed by her erstwhile human alter-ego and once again I mattered, if only slightly. I only mattered for my usefulness, of course, but maybe it was ever thus. All that needed to be said was clearly stated without constraint and understood without recrimination.

And all this unbounded delight unfolded as I tended a pan of mixed potatoes and vegetables while a cheese and onion pasty rotated dutifully in the microwave. (The butter, herbs and pepper came later.)

So what of imagination? Is it a form of reality? I’d say that’s a question for philosophers, Buddhists and quantum physicists, and I’m none of those so I don’t hold any strong opinion on the matter. And does it bring delight or frustration? Both, naturally.