imagination animated two inanimate objects:
First, a purple sign. In the dark, the height of it appeared to be a person. I steadied my gaze to see what it really was: inanimate object, a sign. But careful not to be mistaken twice, I did not look at it as I neared, walking past it to my car. I focused on the taller hedge and the opening to the parking lot where I could unlock surety and travel on.
Second, on the drive home, once in my neighborhood, my peripheral vision saw a small person waving its arms at me: another imagination. It was a yellow hydrant, not a small person or wagging animal. At that point I felt more tired than I cared to know, hoping that those two inanimate living sketches would be the writer in me, wrestling to put words on paper, for ignoring that work's long fires to tend a stillness that is this room's security. Somehow the imagination is projecting through a non-reality, relationship.
Some may call those two instances hallucinations, and maybe they were; but I acknowledge how they felt ever-so-slightly like company.
Posted by nancy at March 4, 2014 02:54 PM