Adults Should Still Play Pretend

Halloween is over. For a lot of people, that means the costumes get put away or donated, the decorations come down, and the question of what do we want to be doesn’t come up again until some time next September. The older I get, the more I find it sad that adults have to relegate these kinds of behaviors to designated days of the year. There is a defined time to dress up, to eat candy, to give flowers to your loved ones, to be thankful, and to stare open-mouthed at the beauty of color and light. Outside of the holidays, these behaviors are ‘childish’ or ‘silly’ or downright weird.

And I wonder what our world would look like if we were allowed the space and time—whenever we wanted—to let our imaginations run wild. If we more frequently got to ask ourselves who do I want to be today, then go out and try it.

I’ve challenged myself in the last few years to take things less seriously. Moving to Portland has definitely made that transition easier. But the other thing I’ve done is embrace opportunities to play pretend: writing fantasy and playing TTRPGs (table-top role-playing games, like Dungeons and Dragons). Twice a week I get to sit down with a group of friends and be a totally different version of myself. When I put words on the page, my headspace is no longer full of my own thoughts and troubles, but those of my characters and the worlds I create. 

And something really interesting has happened. I have learned more about myself and how to navigate life in the act of ‘playing pretend’ than school or therapy ever taught me. 

I’ve always disliked the label of fantasy (and a lot of genre fiction) as escapism, usually said in a derisive way. There’s nothing wrong with wanting to imagine yourself in a different time or place, with different possibilities around you. But I also find it reductive. A good story is a good story, whether it takes place in the far future or a land full of magic, and there’s something beautiful that the speculative lens allows us to do that “real world” stories don’t. It provides just enough of a filter, just enough distance, for a reader to look at a problem in a new way. 

We grow weary of our own politics, but within the bounds of a book, we can safely explore (and sometimes root out) corruption. We can watch a character go through struggles like we do—with relationships, mental health, finding their power, learning to trust—and find hope in the way they overcome these obstacles. We can separate the story we are reading or watching from our own lives and trauma, and we learn to empathize with people we have very little in common with. Above all, we can get back our sense of wonder. That, to me, is the purpose of fantasy. Not to escape, but to remember there is hope (and yes, even magic) in our own beautiful world.

We can, in the space of a few pages, forget about taxes and groceries and the ever-present need to appear as if we’ve got it all figured out because we’re adults, damn it, and we’re not supposed to like cartoons. Even if watching the Timothy Chalamet Willy Wonka movie made me laugh and cry and feel like no movie has in a long time, that’s for kids.

What a bunch of bologna.

In a world full of crises, it is not childish or naive to seek out hope and wonder. It is strategic and necessary to survive (thank you Everything, Everywhere, All at Once for that gem). Sometimes that’s really difficult to do with both feet set firmly within your own mind and body. Being your total authentic self is an immense act of bravery, one that can be made easier by putting on makeup, or a costume, or a funny character voice. When we let ourselves free in the safe space of ‘pretend’, we inadvertently start to normalize those things in the real world. 

And even if none of this affects you in the same way it does for me…playing pretend is fun. What happened to having fun just for fun’s sake? Who decided we have to be so damn serious all the time? (Probably the same people who invented the term ‘business casual’, and frankly they can all eat a bucket of candy corn).

The days in the PNW are getting short, and it’s out of my hands if we’re fortunate enough for the sun to grace us with its presence. But I’ve found my way to keep the dark at bay; if you could use some extra candles this winter, I encourage you to try it too.