I lead an active fantasy life, and often wonder if others do as well. Recently, I have pretended:
- that the mountains to the north of Dundee were the Rockies, and that I was riding to visit my sister
- that the rowing machine at the gym was my station on a Viking ship where I was a slave, and that I was planning an insurrection with the other slaves. We communicated by using a secret code composed of different stroke movements with the oars.
- that my bus pass was a detective badge, and that I was a detective entering a murder scene in someone else’s jurisdiction
- that my bandolier strap was the shoulder strap of an assault rifle, and that I was a resistence fighter hijacking a bus. My job was to keep everyone quiet and calm (thus preventing excess violence) while we stole medical supplies for the resistence.
- that my water bottle was a glass of whiskey, and that I was drinking on the anniversary of an angel’s death in the bar where I had first met that angel. We had fought together to bring down the tyrannical government of the dystopian cyberpunk future, and he had died failing. In that world I have the scars from half a Glasgow smile, and an eyepatch that hides the equipment replacing my missing eye. Aforementioned equipment allows me to see in infrared and ultraviolet.