“Class,” he ordered, “sit down and listen.” Then he rambled on some more. My husband and I sat on the couch, watching television, not really paying attention to our son teaching his class of imaginary students.
But after about a half hour of him sitting on the living room floor playing and imagining and talking to himself, I tuned in. It looked so gratifying, being able to imagine without restraint. I thought, “When does imaginative play and self-talk become insane? When do pretending and doing a monologue without an audience become a disorder requiring medication?”
I sometimes talk to myself. But only when I am alone, preparing for an interview or presentation, or rehearsing an important conversation. I ramble on to myself in the shower to determine if what I am thinking makes sense when spoken aloud. I would never talk to myself out loud in the presence of others. Someone might think that something was seriously wrong with me, and urge my husband to get me medical help.
But hey, the next time I feel like talking out loud to myself, I am just going to do it - my son made it look so entertaining.