Ah shit, I have another one.

When I was like 4, I had an imaginary friend named Bamba. I don’t think I ever “saw” him, but I had my parents buckle him in the car, set a place for him at the dinner table, and tuck him into bed with me every night. We played in my dreams, and I remember what he looked like vividly there. He was my best friend for months.

At this point, we had a pool in our backyard, and my dad’s bday is in the summer. His bday party was backyard themed, and I remember the adults all laughing and talking a little ways away from the pool.

I decided to be bold and go in without my water wings while they were mostly distracted.

Pretty quickly, someone noticed that I was doing the dead-man hang at the deep end of the pool, head down but my legs kicking. My dad jumped in and saved me. I was fine after some fuss, and later that night I told my mom that Bamba had told me to keep kicking and I’d reach the edge. I remember my mom thanking him.

The next day, when my mom went to set his place for him at the table, I calmly stopped her and explained he was gone. I never really talked about him again, but I think about him a lot.