The Secret Life of Walter Mitty
"When I was a child I spoke as a child, I understood as a child, I thought as a child. When I became a man, I put away childish things."
Actually, when I was a child I lived in an extraordinarily intricate fantasy world. Hours spent on long road trips, waiting at doctor's offices, and sitting at a table being "seen and not heard" afforded me ample opportunity to invent and maintain a Secret Life that none but I knew existed.
It was a fantastic and ever changing world. As a little girl, I imagined myself a princess, dainty and adored. Climbing the stairs to my room became a trip to the highest turret of a vast and elaborate castle. The family cat became a magical Talking creature who accompanied me on my adventures. As I got older the princess became an empress, wanting for nothing, riding through mystical forests and governing a peaceful kingdom of dolls and horses. Sometimes I became the horse I rode, a shimmering Palamino with long flaxen hair, galloping down sidewalks of mountain paths and leaping over yard hoses of babbling brooks.
Occasionally my reality would leak out and blend with this one. Long skirts were ball gowns, and cars were carriages drawn by advanced steeds bred to travel at upwards of 60 miles an hour. As I grew more disillusioned with the world the feminine and pacifistic princess became a warrior queen, following in the footsteps of Boadicea and Joan of Arc, riding into battle, feared by the forces of evil, loved by women and adored by men. Fighting the good fight on the battle field of my mind soon stripped her of nobility and I became a wandering mercenary. The older I got, the more the saga of my alter-ego revolved around overcoming impossible obstacles, conquering powerful nations, and always being the most beautiful and sought after woman in the land.
She could never be pinned down, this goddess creation of mine. Her power would wax and wan depending on the circumstances of my "real" life. The people in her world would come and go, depending on their usefulness in perpetuating her mythical existence. The friends and lovers of my Secret Life were always directly related to the friends and lovers of my Public Life. But one thing was constant. One thing about the manifestation of who I wanted to be was always there. Her desire to be desired. In my mind I created desirers, from templates of people I knew or celebrities or historical and mythical figures I wished I knew. Always there were throngs of admirers who sought to be like her, be with her...be with me.
Somewhere along the way, she disappeared. Fading into the back of my memory as I began achieving in real life the things I had imagined achieving in my mind. It's been many years since she embodied me, since I walked down a hallway and dreamed I was sitting atop a magnificent horse, or dressed up and imagined I was going to a Cinderella-esque ball where Prince Charming would sweep me off my feet. Even when I try I can hardly remember her name or what her favorite savory treat was as she feasted at banquets thrown in her honor, late at night as I lay awake in bed indulging in stimulating fantasy. But she is always with me. Somehow, she shaped me. She was a positive visualization of my goals and dreams, and she pushed me to pursue them. She pushed me to achieve them.
I think it's good that she's gone away. It symbolizes that I have created a life fulfilling and exciting enough that my elaborate fantasies pale in comparison. And I'll know, if she ever shows back up, that I have the power to bring her life into sync with mine.
I have the power to live a life that most people can only dream of.
Actually, when I was a child I lived in an extraordinarily intricate fantasy world. Hours spent on long road trips, waiting at doctor's offices, and sitting at a table being "seen and not heard" afforded me ample opportunity to invent and maintain a Secret Life that none but I knew existed.
It was a fantastic and ever changing world. As a little girl, I imagined myself a princess, dainty and adored. Climbing the stairs to my room became a trip to the highest turret of a vast and elaborate castle. The family cat became a magical Talking creature who accompanied me on my adventures. As I got older the princess became an empress, wanting for nothing, riding through mystical forests and governing a peaceful kingdom of dolls and horses. Sometimes I became the horse I rode, a shimmering Palamino with long flaxen hair, galloping down sidewalks of mountain paths and leaping over yard hoses of babbling brooks.
Occasionally my reality would leak out and blend with this one. Long skirts were ball gowns, and cars were carriages drawn by advanced steeds bred to travel at upwards of 60 miles an hour. As I grew more disillusioned with the world the feminine and pacifistic princess became a warrior queen, following in the footsteps of Boadicea and Joan of Arc, riding into battle, feared by the forces of evil, loved by women and adored by men. Fighting the good fight on the battle field of my mind soon stripped her of nobility and I became a wandering mercenary. The older I got, the more the saga of my alter-ego revolved around overcoming impossible obstacles, conquering powerful nations, and always being the most beautiful and sought after woman in the land.
She could never be pinned down, this goddess creation of mine. Her power would wax and wan depending on the circumstances of my "real" life. The people in her world would come and go, depending on their usefulness in perpetuating her mythical existence. The friends and lovers of my Secret Life were always directly related to the friends and lovers of my Public Life. But one thing was constant. One thing about the manifestation of who I wanted to be was always there. Her desire to be desired. In my mind I created desirers, from templates of people I knew or celebrities or historical and mythical figures I wished I knew. Always there were throngs of admirers who sought to be like her, be with her...be with me.
Somewhere along the way, she disappeared. Fading into the back of my memory as I began achieving in real life the things I had imagined achieving in my mind. It's been many years since she embodied me, since I walked down a hallway and dreamed I was sitting atop a magnificent horse, or dressed up and imagined I was going to a Cinderella-esque ball where Prince Charming would sweep me off my feet. Even when I try I can hardly remember her name or what her favorite savory treat was as she feasted at banquets thrown in her honor, late at night as I lay awake in bed indulging in stimulating fantasy. But she is always with me. Somehow, she shaped me. She was a positive visualization of my goals and dreams, and she pushed me to pursue them. She pushed me to achieve them.
I think it's good that she's gone away. It symbolizes that I have created a life fulfilling and exciting enough that my elaborate fantasies pale in comparison. And I'll know, if she ever shows back up, that I have the power to bring her life into sync with mine.
I have the power to live a life that most people can only dream of.