I did not have an imaginary friend as a kid, per se. But Death came to visit me often and we would talk a lot and we became friends. We still are.
However I thought this story quite excellent. It should be turned into a children’s book.
I remember being so shy in primary school, right from class one to class eight, being unable to say ‘present sir’ in class and being too intimidated to play with my classmates who ran themselves thin on Mindililwo primary school’s wide fields. I naturally developed affection for our farm livestock as a result, and spent many sunny days stroking and hugging our cows. Still I felt something was amiss. I needed a friend I could talk to and laugh with (I have to confess that the kids at the Mindililwo were so kind and did their best to draw me out of my shell but to no avail).
One day (I think I was in class two or three), I dreamt that a man with purple skin, a long tail, with an egg balancing on his head, came to my room, held my hand and walked me outside, where we…
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