When I was a boy our neighbor had an old car that no longer functioned beyond being a sophisticated toy for us kids. It was spectacular fun. We turned dials, shifted gears, mashed pedals against the floor, turned the wheel, honked the horn (battery long dead), cranked open and closed the windows. We “smoked” candy cigarettes and flicked the imaginary ashes in the ash tray or out the window. We travelled the country and never once ran out of gas. The biggest impact might have been the spit spatters on the windshield left behind using our motor-making sound lips. True enjoyment!
To misuse the line of a once well-known song: “Take a trip and never leave the farm!” (https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=YyQi-1Z2tN8).
I recently found myself reminiscing about that car. Great memories. Imagination is still wonderful. Fantasy is still a great entertainer. Escape into play is still a wonderful respite. Play has been considered the child’s work. I like that description. Obviously, I worked a lot as a child. Great fun!
Imagination was a great friend. And, it still is. Imagination/fantasy is wonderful distraction, best if managed and not allowed to be the manager. Yes, a grand resource. Yet, it can also lead to excessive avoidance and even lead to self-delusion. I wonder how much time I have spent splattering the windshield of my life without having left my driveway—and yet believed I have done more than simply distributed my spit. Worth a pondering. I do not want to miss out on constructive, restorative fantasy, but neither do I want to miss out on reality.