My fantasy is real fantasy.

I like to fantasize. To some degree. Nothing wrong with that. Because fantasy adds something to life. Real life. Love, for instance, is part fantasy. It’s the romanticizing of life. Especially true love. One gets carried away. One emulates his true love. Puts her on a pedestal. Writes love poems. Goes crazy. That’s why we call someone crazy in love. It’s a good thing. I distrust people who refuse to fantasize. They are too bland. They lack imagination. Even when I write true stories, I want to give the story an edge. By seeing something that maybe other people don’t see. Such as a golden hue to the word picture that I paint. I see it. Even if others don’t. Because I know how to fantasize. To me, it’s real. And I feel the love poem. And the love letter. Because I put my full self into it. I become a creator. I turn a mere human into a goddess. A love goddess. And like I said at the start, there’s nothing wrong with that. Because I believe in myths. They become real. I have been to Paradise. To Heaven. To Nirvana. To Valhalla. Some call it fantasy. I do, too. But it’s real fantasy. –Jim Broede