What makes something real or fake? Why is it that we write off our imaginations as fake? We really think our thoughts don't we? I think our memories, dreams etc. reflect very real fears and emotions because they are real. Maybe we don't pay enough attention to the subconscious and to the imagined. What are we denying ourselves when we value these as secondary to what is tangible? I finished my first movie script last night and I cried for my character. I kept trying to tell myself that it was just a story to console myself. I did that to bring myself comfort, but I don't think I really believed it. Maybe his story wasn't real for me, but many others have experienced similar suffering and I felt that. Even the supernatural, the horror, the over-exaggerated drama draws from real suffering, real fear, real happiness--in that sense imagination seems to be some sort of universal connector between people, between worlds. Perhaps if we paid more attention to that, we would be more compassionate, less cruel to those we are estranged from. I don't know, just some food for thought.
P.S. The video is coming, My Final Cut Pro has been working three times as slowly...makes editing kind of frustrating and difficult.