Imagination

Do you have an over-active imagination?

I mean I suppose that I could be said to have an overactive imagination. Things, sounds, emotions sort-of trigger this strange stream of sub-conciousness. I mean one time, after checking out some American Idol, I'd been listening to some Los Campesinos and began to imagine legitimizing the American Idol competition by singing sick music from "unconventional" bands and genres. This of-course lead to me dominating the polls and getting the top prize. That in turn lead to being questioned by People (The Magazine). During the course of the questioning, I made a comment about the damage that malpractice litigators have had on the medical litigators. This of-course lead to my being sued by a coalition of malpractice representatives (here is the point that the sequence becomes strange). I immediately defended myself through several public speeches regarding the deconstruction of the American legal system and the violation of my first amendment rights. This cascaded into my becoming the most politically influential teenager...ever. I eventually received the opportunity to debate Sarah Palin, embarrassing her in-front of the American political community and delegitimizing her potential administration. She gave a speech several moments later, as a concession of defeat. During the speech, I appeared on a large projection screen behind the platform and proceeded to make vulgar motions for the remainder of her speech. Than this other time!

Yes I understand. Does this imagination occasionally have negative effects?

I guess. I mean certain images get supercharged in my head, perhaps in some sub-concious attempt to justify my feelings regarding the aforementioned image. For example: if I hear that 2 people danced in my absence, I automatically assume that the dancing "must" have been of the most vulgar nature...damn near sex. Beyond that, the dancing in my head "must" automatically lead to a relationship. That relationship "must" lead to sex. That sex "must" be better than anything I could ever offer. You get the idea. Imagination tends to get the best of me.

Do you see positive effects to your overactive imagination?

Yes. I mean the more realistic images in my head could be considered goals; goals that I immediately pursuit. I may be a dreamer but I also try to be a doer. Dreams are real only if you strive to achieve them...right? That, and I have this strange feeling that my imagination makes me better in bed. Does that make sense?

*laugh* I suppose those are positive benefits, and I guess that sort-of makes sense.

Good session doc, I'll see you this time next month. Thanks.

...hey Jack.

Yes doc.

You really do have an overactive imagination.

Yea definitely...we haven't had an actual session in months.

Chapter 1

*screach* complete and total silence, the gravity of the moment steadily sinking in.

"...I cannot believe that he just did that. Four lanes of traffic! Four fucking lanes of chicago traffic?! He just ripped through a steady stream of cars completely untouched."

"Just turn around at the next street."

"Yea not a problem"...good one.

Five minutes later...

"no dice bro"

The next street headed south for several miles, completely straight. It continued as one street, stretching into the oblivion of the night, darkness on both sides. The houses submerged in the night, all lights doused by that veritable specter, along the entire stretch of road. The three of us heard the occasional domestic argument, the tears of unrequited love, the screams of sleepless children, the shattering of breaking and entering, and all other sounds that could possibly be considered terrifying. Noah reveled in the experience, babbling on-and-on about adventures and road-trips, and commenced to sing road trip tunes at the top of his lungs. As the miles rolled by, Garrett's voice steadily jumped from octave to octave to octave to octave until dogs began to cringe at the passing of our car. Suddenly...a grumble. Garrett jumped and screamed.

"Sorry dude, I haven't eaten since this morning" Noah mumbled.

"Yea bro, I got the grumbles. I gotta get my hands on some grub. There's a T-Bell a-couple blocks back."

"Aight!? Food break coming up."

*kkknk "Welcome to Taco Bell. Can I take your order" kkknk*

"I'll have one lava taco. What you feeling dude? and a quesadilla, extra-special sauce and a salad. Noah? Whats the heftiest thing you got?"

*kkknk "'Hefty' sir?" kkknk*

"Yea 'hefty'. You know massive, filling, scrumptious, man food. That sort-of jazz!"

*kkknk "I gotta man meat special sir" kkknk*

I could not help, but chuckle at the unintentional innuendo. Garrett punched me in the arm and told me to shut up.

"Sound good? Yea that sounds good. Thanks"

Ten Minutes...

"Damn thats good!?"

"Nectar of the gods, straight up" I guess the gods eat at Taco Bell?

*grumble...grumble...squelch*

"Dude not feeling so good"

Vomit suddenly covered the front of the car, Garret heaved all over the steering apparatus. I rolled down the window and heaved all over the unsuspecting car behind, vomit cascaded all over the front of his car. I tossed again, Garrett and Noah continuously puking on themselves. Garrett's hands began to slip off of the apparatus as vomited caked it. The car continued for several miles the floors and roof coated in vomit, until it crashed...complete and total silence, the gravity of the moment setting in, as our stomachs finally lay completely empty.