As I simply didn’t even. Telling stories, having dreams, building a literary reality that allowed me to deal with “normal” individuals became an outlet for imagination that bubbled inside. After all, how much fun is it to sit at a restaurant and also assume that the couple at the next table were normal people? Far more entertaining to imagine them talking world domination, or even plotting their bank heist that is amazing. (If that was you, then sorry about the strange looks.)
As time goes by, and my kids no longer believed I was a Pirate-Spy working for the Antarian spy service plotting their ancestral takeover of their fast food industry, I decided to take my imagination out into the actual world and allow total strangers judge, rate, and article testimonials on the characteristic of my insane writing abilities. So far….
The real universe of “Michael” (yes I actually refer to myself in the third person, doesn’t everyone?) Is pleasant but nowhere near as fascinating as my stories. I’ve been a shoe salesman, telephone widow, nuts and bolts stacker, television repair assistant, programmer of computer systems, non-profit worker, lobbyist, banker, VP of a large bank establishment, stock broker, financial adviser, husband, dad, son and brother. Pretty normal stuff in comparison with a dreamwalker, or mass.
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