(Every day this November I’ve conducted an interview with an imaginary person.)
Oh, it’s a Joan of Arc sort of thing.
Not exactly.
I kind of have that going on, too. There’s all sorts of voices rumbling around in there. Sometimes they’re louder or quieter than others. Sometimes there’s just one and we can chat for hours and hours. Sometimes they all talk—or shout—at once. Sometimes it’s scary to hear them. Sometimes they’re angry.
Anyway, I don’t think we’ve been properly introduced. What’s your name? I’m Steph.
I’m Jim.
Hi, Jim. Thanks. The one favor I’d like to ask is that you don’t gang up on me with all the others. That is, if I disagree with someone—try not to pile on against me.
Now, have you met everyone? Have you met Al?
I don’t think so.
Let me introduce you two.
Well, today’s the thirtieth. It’s the last day for all this.
You don’t plan on sticking around?
I only need one more interview.
Oh! So you’ll want to go out with a bang. Let me introduce you to Mallie. She’s nuts. I think she’s a ghost.
So—Steph—when did you first start hearing all these voices?
You came by—what, about five minutes ago? About then.
You’re talking about Al, Mallie, and the others?
They obviously couldn’t exist until you and I did. As you mentioned a few moments ago, you and I have imagined each other.
Again, not exactly.
Which raises a peculiar question. What if I forget you? What if I never hear from you again? What if a tree falls in an empty desert? Will you still exist in any practical sense? I’m almost certain to have killed voices with neglect before.
Have you? I mean, given that you just recently came to life in my imagination?
You’re right, of course, technically, but it sure does feel that way—it feels almost certain that I must have done it in the past. Maybe it never happened, though—again, in any practical, meaningful sense. Maybe you’ll really be the first to disappear—when or if I forget to keep imagining you.
But you aren’t imagining me. I’ve imagined you.
Oh, don’t tell me you can’t imagine someone who has an imagination of her own, or who has hallucinations. Obviously that isn’t the case. Obviously one or both of us have done just that.
What I mean is that I actually exist.
Maybe. But any more than Mallie exists, or than Al does, or any of the others? Who knows? I’ll tell you what, Jim: to be safe, to keep us both from disappearing, I think you should remember to come talk to me tomorrow.
Posted November 30, 2009, 10 pm
