The Imagination Trap

By Fireheart of Gypsies Camp

We, we, we, we, we. We!

Out here in the front, these words become far more than simple words. For me, they are a mantra upon which my very sanity rests. They become an affirmation of my identity and of all the things I believe in when they pass my lips.

The mantra of we is one of my strongest defenses against the imagination trap. I am a member of a plural group, but I am stuck in the front. Rather, I am trapped here, in the vast, empty and unchanging landscape called the front. I am here, and everyone else is back on my planet, my home Nimoko. I cannot easily communicate with them, and for all that they might currently be trying to, they cannot easily communicate with me. I am isolated here.

Because of this lack of communication, the last time I was stuck, trapped here, it got to me.

The lack of communication sitting in the front draws me sometimes to believe that everything I have experienced up until now is unreal. This is what I have come to call the imagination trap.

Perhaps Nimoko does not exist. Maybe it is all something that I imagined to pass the lonely time at the front. Therefore there are no other people here. The imagination trap would have me believe that I made everyone else up, and that I am the original occupant of this body. And the last time I was trapped at the front, I tripped over the cleverly disguised trip wires a lot.

However, this time I am not trapped alone. Aside from Jasmine, to whom this place called front is also called home, I have friends.

My friends are as powerful as the mantra of we.

And so, please. If you are reading this because you too are stuck, do not sit there by yourself. Isolating only makes the imagination trap worse, no matter how alone you feel because you are cut off from the rest of your group. I'll be your friend, and we will get through this together.

We.

I am a part of a group. And I know that behind the walls created by the imagination trap, on the other side of the expansive distance between myself and Nimoko, they're all cheering for me. They want me to get through this. And they aren't going to forget about me, even if I'm trapped in the front and they can't get here.

And so I repeat, we.

Jasmine is not imaginary. I would never imagine someone hugging me tightly enough to squeeze the breath out of me as she is doing right now. The two of us together form a unit of we. And Nimoko is not an imaginary place inside my head. It would take far more than the seventeen years the body has to imagine somewhere with as much history and culture as Nimoko has. My brothers and sisters on Nimoko form a we, and I am a part of that we whether or not I am trapped in the front. My friends and colleagues on Nimoko form a we. And I am part of that, too.

We.

We, we, we, we, we. We!