DISCURSIVE
“Imagination is the only weapon in the war against reality.”
When I was 8, I told myself there were monsters living under my bed. They each had names,
personalities and a position in the social hierarchy. I used to leave snacks, crackers and marshmallows
for the monsters under my bed so they’d let me sleep. My parents thought it was just a phase, a sign
of imagination. But to me, it felt real. That small bedroom was where my fantasy and reality quietly
clashed.
Imagination is often seen as a gifted ability, allowing us to escape boredom or tough times. We value
it through art, stories and childhood games. But at the same time, imagination helps us create dream
worlds, however also may build invisible mental barriers. We assume what others think of us before
they say a word. We picture problems before they even happen. We create fears and conflicts in our
minds. Sometimes, instead of our imagination setting us free, imagination holds us back.
However, in many ways, the mind is a tool of war. Reality stands on one side of our mind, rigid, and
often unchangeable. On the other side is imagination, holding a paintbrush instead of a sword,
interfering to strip away our darknesses with something brighter. We use imagination to cope, to
process, to dream beyond what is for real. But when the paint starts to drip into delusions, it can
cloud our minds rather than clarify our thoughts.
Take, for example, the student who imagines that a single bad grade means they’ve failed their
future. Or the friend who misreads a glance as betrayal. These imagined stories become barriers. Not
because reality confirms them, but because belief inside our minds becomes stronger than the truth.
Imagination, then, becomes a two-sided sword that is capable of both defending us from pain and
inventing pain when there was none.
And yet, in the face of oppression or personal grief, imagination remains our most radical tool. It
allows us to picture change before it exists, to hope in a world where hope is limited. Civil rights
movements, artistic revolutions and social movements all began in the mind, long before they
became reality.
So perhaps imagination is not a weapon in the traditional sense, but rather a paradoxical one. It
defends, distorts and limits. It can battle our difficulties in life or turn us against us.
The monsters under my bed never left. They just changed shape. Some now wear masks of doubt, or
fear. But I’ve also learned to imagine myself defeating them, through creation. Imagination, after all,
isn’t just a weapon. It’s a shield, and sometimes, a ladder.