Dear Mr. Murakami,
I don’t know if my question can have an answer, but probably I feel you’re the only man in the world that could help me. It’s about who I really am: I spent all my life trying to hide a huge part of my soul because I was really ashamed and afraid about that part of my existence. As a child I had to face something I can’t forget and that returns in my life in any possible way. When a child suffers too much, she tries to escape the world by using dreams, imagination, fantasy. I was that kind of girl: I used to tell tales to my sister before sleeping, write stories, create games and when I was eleven, during all the summer, I spent every day alone in my grandma’s living room reading all sorts of books and imagining every kind of stories. In those moments I was really happy. But when I grew up I started thinking that escaping from pain and going to a parallel universe was an act of cowardice. I thought that what I was doing was an easy way to embrace something I was really afraid of: madness. During all my adolescence I tried to soffocate my imagination, to imprison my mind in order to face suffering. But during the night I have the same dreams of the past: they’re knocking and screaming into myself and now I don’t want to ignore them because they express what I really am. But how can I recover my imagination? And if it was too late? If I lost my imagination, the child in me and myself forever, how can I survive? Thanks, for all.
（Andromaca、女性、22歳、Italian university student）
I am an author, and my imagination is an important asset of mine. Imagination is the vital reservoir of my stories. So I never in my life think that I have to suffocate my imagination or fantasy. But you did it at a certain point in your life. You threw away the precious key to your own kingdom.
But I think it is never too late. Since you could do it before, you will be able to do it again, if you try. You have to train yourself.
Write something good for yourself, just like you used to tell stories to your little sister at night. All of us need stories to live with. You need it, too.