A Child's Imagination

As a child I had quite a large imagination. In fact, I can safely say that my imagination is larger than the imagination of anyone I know, which possibly explains my mild paranoia, my fear of the dark and my fear of some toilets.

But as a child with a large imagination, and as a current young-adult living with the continuum of this enlarged imagination, I know that without it the world would appear dull to me. My imagination keeps me entertained, even if most of the time it frightens me to the extent beyond where scary movies attempt to reach. My imagination has also assisted me thoroughly in my educative journey.

Had I not been an imaginative individual, I doubt my creativity would be at the level that it currently sits. In a split second, I can think of things that most of my fellow classmates deem 'strange', 'unusual' or 'weird'. But just like the way I have, they soon succumb to the fact that my ideas are not as repulsive as they claim them to be, rather they ignite the spark which hones in all attention that is otherwise rather difficult to acquire.

Straying from my imagination's aiding in my academic progress, if you have watched the newly viral video shown above, you will understand the reason as to why I found it necessary to speak of this incident that has brought forth immediate reactions based on hilarity. The video above shows a toddler reacting rather heavily at the fact that his father caught his nose, or caught his ear. Some may view his reactions far-fetched, exaggerated, yet I view his reactions as an early sign of high intelligence later in life. This toddler can see things that others cannot, and indeed, his father is laughing at him now, however I am predicting that this child is no laughing stock in his future.

Critical awareness only benefits humans later in life, when they disperse away into realism from living a life circulated around imaginative thinking. If one cannot start at the realm of imaginative thinking, then when they reach the realm of critical awareness they will suffer and fail to be as critical as academia requires. Differentiating from my sister, who unfortunately does not share my wild mind, per se, and differentiating from most of my peers, I have found this to be somewhat true.

Imaginative thinking should be encouraged more in the education system, for I believe it plays a role of large importance, larger than that of critical awareness. This child is an example of the strength of the mind and how it alters perception so as to allow him to believe that his ears and nose are detachable. 

Morning Fog and Silent Hill

If anything, apart from video games contributing to my excelled skills in problem-solving and my ability to converge and connect with students and their interests, they have, along with horror movies, contributed to my sense of paranoia so much so that I have fallen more into delusion than Cheech and Chong watching a thriller.

Today I drove to university at around eight in the morning. The temperature was around four degrees celsius, and there was a blanket of fog so thick around me that I was afraid of accidentally inhaling a cloud. I thrived on the excitement, though. I immediately gained an adrenalin rush because of hardly being able to see the road beneath me or the cars around me, which was a dangerous thing altogether. I managed to pull through, and I might have exaggerated my lack of vision a little, however there is something that I cannot exaggerate;

And that is my imagination. My imagination is a force that I recommend you do not reckon with. My imagination stretches far and wide like the original map of the world, and it stands taller than the tallest towers in the world and lower than Hades' dirty toenails. It is heavier than the conglomerated weight of all planets in existence, and is an ever-growing thing. It is on a complete other level, and that is what differentiates my thinking process to that of others.

There are many benefits to my differentiation, however there is moreso one large negative aspect that I wish did not exist. And that is my imagination's ability to grab all that it witnesses in scary movies, and replay them on a larger scale and a more detailed and evolved scale than the original footage it remembers, scaring me terribly. Today, my imagination did not cease to surprise me in a nasty manner, and fortunately for it and unfortunately for me it had the right atmosphere to do it in.

Looking out onto the pasture in front of my university car park, and having taken the photograph above, one thing came to my mind: Silent Hill. My mind decided to imagine Silent Hill and all of its ghastly images. I was praising the Gods for having been surrounded by other students who were equally as amazed by the fog as I was, not to my level obviously, otherwise I would have been running to class and that would not have resulted in any success due to the fact that I have not ran since my primary school relay sports games. 

I must admit, though, I do mildly revel in my imagination. It makes things very entertaining. Had I not had the imagination I currently have, I would have just seen the fog as fallen clouds - or just as mere fog. I would have walked to my class without the constant fear that I was being followed by demonic entities, assuming of course they would leave their warm and comfortable beds in such weather.

Freeways

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Freeways, roads or ways which are literally free, free of traffic lights and of traffic per se, are only ever 'free' when the clock strikes and surpasses midnight. 

It is only after midnight that I can drive the entire way from my aunt's home to mine, consisting of a total of around twenty minutes, at the speed limit, one-hundred kilometres per hour, reaching my home in around ten minutes instead, taking me half the time it takes to normally commute there in hours before midnight, such as peak hour at six o'clock in the evening. At that time, I struggle to leave, or even put on cruise control without having somebody either cut into the lane in front of me and slow down, or have somebody so close to my rear bumper that they almost touch and connect to me, resulting in mine and their car looking like two linked carts on a train.

Tonight, the freeway was so vacant that I had arrived home in just under ten minutes, a time that would prove unachievable in the daytime. This surprised my mother, who, having received my text stating that I had left my aunt's house, had expected me to arrive at home in at least twenty-five minutes. This had caused her to accuse me of driving like it was a stolen Mustang, a Ferrari that has a minimum speed of one-hundred and twenty kilometres per hour, the Titanic before it stopped in attempt to avoid hitting the iceberg.

There is a certain form of serenity I feel driving on the freeway at nighttime. The soft lights, indicating barriers and lanes are ambient, and the settled roaring of the engine almost rocks me to sleep - that is to say that this serenity is not quite a good thing. This is the reason why I usually have loud music blaring, even if my head is at any given night about to implode from all of the mental strains I put it through. Having music turned up loud strains my mind even more, which in its negativity, leaves a tunnel for positive flow in that I am in this form of annoyance very alert to the point where my left hand keeps twitching in agony because though it twitches to turn the volume down, I control it to stay gripped to the wheel so that I and my hand arrive home safely, still attached to one another.

Arriving home in one piece is of importance, but becomes a challenge especially in instances where I watch scary movies at my aunt's house before returning home at late hours. The darkness becomes more darker, the silence becomes even more silent, and the backseat of my car, as unoccupied as it is, seems a little less unoccupied and more on the occupied scale of things, where the occupant is, like in a scary movie, unwelcome. Had I happened to have watched a scary movie before journeying on my way home, every frightening occurrence despite its level of relevance would play throughout my imagination. It would play on a loop, I would imagine things like a girl running out into the middle of the street, or my stereo releasing strange sounds. I would imagine seeing things in my rear-view mirror other than cars, and other terrifyingly unrealistic things like that. The ease of the freeway, though, challenges the time that imagination takes to produce these things.

But my imagination remains at ease, and at full speed, for when I arrive home, having not at all scared me in any of its attempts, I have to fight it when unlocking the shop door in my too-quiet street, and when I have to lock the door after I enter, and when I have to walk through the shop with the lights off, and when I have to walk through my equally unlit kitchen. Then comes the bathroom mirror, which I will not delve into because of obvious reasons. In saying that, the freeway and its darkness and perfect atmosphere for my horrid imagination is most positively the least of my concerns.

Freeways, though, heading back towards my point, are quite convenient at later hours. If only they continue being this convenient through other hours of the day, especially when I am late to university or tutoring.