Inktober 6: Wilfred the Imaginary Humanoid Lizard

On the right: Wilfred, the humanoid lizard imaginary friend of the 80’s, man! He was so cool! 80’s Tom Cruise cool. Cool jeans man! Nice leather jacket and white T! Look at those Ray Bans, man. We played basketball in our Connie-V All-Stars.  

On the left: Wilfred, the lizard of today. He’s evolved, man. He’s grown. Sure, he’s still cool af, he’s got the hip to the times beard, the spiky Mohawk with shaved sides, the trippy ass swirl tongue and hypnotic eyes. He’s got some slay in him yet. 

I used used to play basketball on the driveway of my childhood home, or on the half court halfway down the lane that was halfway down my street.   I didn’t play alone, my buddy Wilfred was usually there with me. Sometimes I wanted to be alone, but usually I played with my buddy. Sometimes I called him Will, and sometimes I called him Fred, and sometimes it was all formal like and I’d call him Wilfred. He was a humanoid lizard, but he played basketball surprisingly well, probably due to his grippier than normal hands (they were lizard hands after all). He was so cool! I mean so. Fucking. Cool. And a real nice dude. Just wanted to have fun and goof around and play some bball. He had all the style and all the swagger. He beat me at HORSE more than I care to admit. 

I don’t know when Wilfred went away. Or stopped coming. Or what that even means. I always knew that Wilfred was imaginary. I wasn’t dumb. But he was still kind of real to me. And what is real anyway, if all the universe is mind? He was a real friend when I felt lonely. Even a person who loves to be alone can feel lonely sometimes.  

I used to be really good at being mindful and present and aware in the moment, when I was a little kid. I remember it vividly, how I’d observe the world. I marveled that other people didn’t notice the things that were so obvious to me. Somehow in my journey to adulthood (whatever that means), I lost the art of being alone and being present with myself. I know I need to create a daily meditation practice in my routine. But I also want to experience being alone with myself more often, with or without the evolved Wilfred of the day to keep me company. Maybe he could still teach me a lesson or two.