This may not have anything to do with anything, but when I was little i had an imaginary friend called Mr Snozberry. He was lovely, very good at telling jokes as I recall. Anyway, when I was about five and a half he commited suicide. I'm not joking, he had a very nice funeral, all his friends were there, Mr Raspberry, Mr Strawberry, Mr Gooseberry....
When I was really young I was convinced that I had a huge pet grizzly bear (and a wolf but that's another story).
I told everyone that would listen all about the bear (that lived in a tall shed on top of the hill near my house).
When they asked I'd show them the bear by holding out one hand and pointing into the palm of that hand with the other hand saying 'look, it's there, in my hand'.
Even I don't understand.
Until I was 5 or 6 I had 6 imaginary monkeys who went everywhere with me. Some days my Grandad took me to nursey school by bus. My Mum would wait with us at the bus stop and then cringe with embarrassment as she had to lift each monkey onto the bus with me, and I counted them on! One day my uncle was driving me to nursery school. As he got into the drivers seat I screamed. He quickly ran round to my door and opened it, thinking he must have closed my finger in the door. I can still see his face when I told him I was ok but he had locked all my monkeys out!!
When I was around two or three, I had an imaginary racoon called Marshmallow Marshmallow. The local children's library has different events every Summer, and I remember that one of my favorites was the Stuffed Animal Pet Show, which was meant for very young children, or those who had no pets. Despite the fact that I had a multitude of stuffed animals, I insisted on entering Marshmallow Marshmallow. Evidently the fact he was a real racoon, not a stuffed animal, didn't bother me.
I won the 'Most Imaginitive' category.
I had an imaginary friend Jeff who was invisible except when he wanted to be seen by me. He liked watermelon and spat out the seeds. My mom helped me write a book about him. We both miss him.
I also believed Superman lived under the table and ate scraps, and brushed against my legs.
My parents used to tape record me talking and singing. When I heard the girl on the tape talking back to me, I was sure there was another me in the tape recorder! Despite my parents best efforts to convince me otherwise, I have a tape of myself whispering, "I know you're in there. I'm going to press rewind and listen to you talk now."
I had an invisible friend named John Wednesday and I beleived he was real. He didn't have hair...only leaves growing out of his head and his mother sent him out in the rain to play instead of washing his hair with shampoo.
When I was four, I would hold my hand close to my face, flat and facing up so I could talk to it. But that's only what other people saw--I was really talking to Bowser the white mouse.
When I was very little I had 4 or 5 imaginary friends. My mom told me a few years ago she used to worry about me, because I would change my voice and pretend to have conversations with them - with me speaking for them. :)
The only one I remember clearly is Goldilocks. She loved to cut off people's heads and eat them with catsup and mustard.
When my older brother and sister would pick on me I would threaten to call my imaginary friends if they didn't treat me better. They always just laughed...
This is my experience with my daughter's imaginary friends. She had three main imaginary friends : Meanie...mutagenic bat/rat/boy with an attitude problem, Gogonagi...a giant six foot long rat....and Silly Beaver...a tree eating rodent. What upset me most was my daughter would wack herself on the head over and over saying.." Get out of there ! Get out of there !" ...when i asked what was going on she would say " That silly Beaver jumped into my brain again!!"....
I never really got any kind of explaination from her as to how this all happened or came from or meant.
I would sort of bite my lip and hope that it didnt mean she was truly crazy or possessed or anything...so far she seems to be ok for a teenager.
I used to have an imaginary friend named Henry the Ghost. Whenever I heard a noise or something and was scared at night, I would sing
'Mud, mud, glorious mud, nothing quite like it for cooling the blood'
Henry would appear and would protect me and talk to me. what mud had to do with anything i'll never know!!!
My imaginary friend was called Swacky Boom, who was a sort of elf-like guy usually fond hovering cross-legged at ceiling level in the corner of the room.
He liked his tea stirred a special way, in ever decreasing circles, then in a cross pattern.
Dunno where Swacky is now, but I hope he is still enjoying his cups of tea.
I used to have a cat who sort of appeared about the time my sister was born. Obviously he could talk, but he was also blessed with the natural feline talent of riding a moped. He particularly liked to wear an old fashioned leather helmet with his goggles over his ears and would follow us around. I don't think he ever made it into the house - probably because he was always covered in oil.
I used to have an imaginary friend named Laura who hailed from the 1800's. I spent most afternoons after school showing her the modern world and especially how to ride a bicycle! She never did master that!
My imaginary friends were three little dragons - one red, one green and one purple. The purple one was the pest and I was always having to "clean up after it". My mum only persuaded me not to bring them shopping with us by saying that the No Dogs sign meant No Dragons as well.
I used to have 3 imaginary friends- 1 girl(Ashley) and 2 boys(Peter and Jon).
The girl didn't like me, because they were girls and I didn't think girl liked girls (catty-factory I guess) So we always got into fights.
Peter didn't like me because Ashley was prettier and Jon was always talking to me about liking Peter. Then, one day Ashley and I got in a fist fight and I actually came out of it with bruises (god knows how...)
After that, they all left.
When I was very small, I conjured myself an imaginary friend whom I named Rufus (though I've no idea why). I never told ANYONE about him, he would always ask me not to, I always thought he seemed really frightened at the prospect of anyone other than me knowing of him. Rufus was always changing his age, he was the same guy all the time, just at different stages of his life. He would be a tiny kid, same age as me wanting to play in the dirt and tell me silly stories about horrid things that REALLY lived in wombat holes, or a teenage kid who knew all about cricket and always watched me play, or this kind of 20-30 something scrawny adult, scruffy, unshaven, dishevelled - but who knew EVERYTHING and looked after me whenever I was scared of something. Very occasionally he would appear as an extremely old guy who had lived so long that any questions I had about dragons were adequately answered due to his first hand knowledge of this 'ancient species'.
I did have a sister so I can't really claim him as a sibling substitute, and really have no idea what part of my mind decided I needed an imaginary friend, but I loved Rufus dearly and even once I knew he really didn't exist I kept on pretending, just to cling on so he wouldn't be a complete non-entity (as I assumed he would be if I let him slip into obscurity.) I'm nearly 19 now and I still bring him out and dust him off every now and then just to make sure he still lives (And, I think because it has become psychologically reassuring)
when I was around 5 or 6 I had an imaginary elementary school class...they all had distinct personalities and went everywhere with me. (Ruby was the bad one, Penelope was the good one, Tommy and Toby were twins, Annika and Clarence were in wheelchairs, etc.) There were approximately 15 in all. I would write up lesson plans, administer severe discipline, and carry on full conversations with them in public places. I was a weird kid. Oh, and, of course, their music teacher was John Lennon. :)
When our oldest boy was 5, we bought him a bow-tie, in a brown paper bag, for his first school concert, but his little brother cried because he'd missed out on a present.
In a moment of desperation, we told him, "There's no need to cry, your present is still in the bag."
Of course, the bag was empty, but we told him that only Mommies and Daddies could see the little Fresh-Air inside.
Well, we had that little Fresh-Air doing somersaults, jumping in and out of the bag and all sorts of circus tricks.
He carried that crumpled little brown paper bag around for months, showing it to envious friends and to grown-ups with looks of barely strangled laughter on their faces. We had to warn family in advance that the Fresh-Air was being brought for a visit.
Things came to a head 6 months later when he realised that nobody was feeding the Fresh-Air.
We told him, "He's eating the inside of the paper bag"...
"But there's no holes in the bag", said he, triumphantly...
"But it only eats the inside of the bag", we shot back...
That bought us another couple of weeks. He swears blind now that he twigged it straightaway.
We all know different...
The maple tree in my yard was my "boyfriend". One day we had a tearful breakup because I told it/him, "I can't see you anymore, I'm in love with the apple tree!" Well, those trees were better men than any around here.