The Curse of Imagination

I have a pretty active and vivid imagination.  Often, like when reading a good book, this is a talent that comes in handy.  I have seen many a movie on the big screen of my mind.  And those showings are pre-first run, baby!

Unfortunately, the ability to present oneself with a full color, real as life image has its drawbacks.  Like when I'm driving and someone does something stupid in front of me.  My over-active brain deftly follows the path that DIDN'T happen.  You know, the one where the guy didn't pull back into his own lane in time and we crashed head on and my car spun and flipped and ended in the ditch with me pinned... well, you get the idea.

Sometimes, I go with these imaginary images, just to see how I react.  What does it feel like?  Who do I turn to?  What do I do next?  It is an interesting study in who I am at any given moment.  And what better way to experience these things than in the safety of my own imagination, where I can turn off the images and restore reality with the flick of a switch (once I imagine it into being, of course).

There is one thing, one vision, that sneaks up on me and knocks the wind out of my sails every single time..  One that I can't shut off fast enough.  One in which I always fall apart, no variation.  That is the alternate reality in which something happens to my husband.  My own death, the end of the world, anything is easier for me to imagine than the idea of losing Mike.