How does a four—or five-year-old not only lose his innocence at such a ridiculously early age but also survive the anger, beatings, punishment, and rejection of a rage-filled parent? I’m glad you asked: Fantasy! As other children use their fantasy lives to play and dream of wonderous things, I used mine to escape my world and, in my meager fashion, control that world before it extinguished me. Interestingly enough, a silver lining perhaps is that the University of Harvard and other prestigious universities have linked imagination with entrepreneurial spirit and ‘genius’ to avoid a lack of structure. In other words, a forced adaptation to my environment.
My fantasy of power and control was to convert the highly negative feelings bestowed upon me by my father into a being that I became by looking into the mirror. I would see my elongated incisor teeth and fantasize about being the “king of the devils.” I was much more than my father envisioned. I was not just bad, but indeed the king of evil. I was the KING OF THE DEVILS. This was the only means I had to survive my environment, which scared me almost to death. It was my means of taking control of my life, even as a small child. My world was full of horrors, and I had to escape. Well, how much better to deal with my fears than with the adage, “If you can’t beat’em, join’em”? I thought I might as well be the king if I were the Devil. I could then hope to control my world through my fantasies.
I also loved my Hopalong Cassidy outfit, which my mother bought me around the same age as I ruled my kingdom. I would look in the mirror, with my twin six guns gleaming as they peeked out from my all-black “Hoppy” outfit. It was fun but not nearly as engrossing and powerful as being king.
Another fantasy that shared my head with being king was of being another all-powerful entity: Superman. My dreams were filled with my supernatural and powerful presence from the time I was about six until I was at least nine or ten years old. I had the look with my cape, and I could fly. The only problem was that my flight path had limitations, which were likely a reflection of my mindset. I could only fly to the level of low buildings. I never could get the hang of soaring into the clouds as a real superhero.
A fearful fantasy that I had around the age of 4 was that there was a boogie man under the bed who might harm me or eat me. I needed to ensure I was snug under the covers, especially my feet. I would also burrow into the blanket with it over my head many nights. This way, I was immune to an attack.
