Strange Conversations

Ten years ago I had the opportunity to spend some time in Sweden as missionary for my church.  Unlike most cities here in the U.S., Sweden has an extensive public transportation system. As missionaries we worked in teams of two called companionships, and we spent a lot of time traveling on buses and trains to various appointments.  Depending on the time of day a bus could be standing room only, or you might have the whole bus to yourself.

I had just moved to a small city called Södertälje, where I was assigned a new companion, I'll call Jared. I was lying in my bed late one night in our large studio apartment, when I heard Jared's voice coming from his side of the room:

Jared:  "Did you have imaginary friends when you were little?"

I thought he was about spill some hilarious story from his childhood.  "I think so, don't most kids?"

Jared:   "Do you still have them?"

His question was so surprising I laughed out loud.  "No.  Why?"

Jared:  "Well, when you sat down on the bus this afternoon you looked at the empty seat next to you and started talking to someone that wasn't there."

It turns out, I have a terrible habit of talking to myself, whether I'm discussing my to-do-list, thinking of ideas for a new story to write, or just singing the obnoxious song that's stuck in my head. I assured Jared that I didn't see invisible people, but that he had simply caught me "discussing" ideas for some stories I'd planned to write. 

We worked together for another two months before I moved to another city, and he never asked about my invisible friends again.  I'm still not certain if it was because I did a fair job of avoiding further conversations in public, or if he just got used my strange behavior.