Kathryn:

A couple of literary notes on imaginary friends:

(1) In one of M.R. James’s short stories, a little boy has a lion as his

imaginary friend. He often talks about the lion, to the rage of his father,

a Victorian “realistic” Gradgrind sort. The father inflicts various cruel

punishments on the boy, to cure him of his imaginative tendencies. Guess

what happens to Dad.

(2) William Trevor wrote a lovely creepy story about a woman going quietly

mad. She starts telling her husband, when he comes home from work, about

long phone conversations she’s been having with one Mr. Higgins (?), a name

unknown to the husband. At last the husband begins to suspect she’s having

an affair, as this Mr. Higgins never calls when he’s home. He checks

around. Finds out from brother-in-law than “Mr. Higgins” was his wife’s

imaginary friend in childhood.

I would guess that writers and other bookish folk are more likely than

others to have had imaginary friends. I certainly had one. His name, oddly

enough, was Johnnie. I miss him.