Imaginary friends and personal hermit kingdoms

I've been thinking a lot about imaginary friends recently. Whether we can have just as vivid ones as adults as we do as children. It's logical somehow in my current hermit status that this would be the case I guess, but I was kind of disappointed to read cod psychology about how in adults it is simply a symptom of loneliness and these "friends" will be characters off your favourite TV show - that somehow it was impossible that an adult could have a vivid enough imagination to create a truly imaginary being that might just be who you'd want to hang out with in an ideal world - in a world where things could be truly different to how they are in "reality". I've never been a huge fan of the traditional definition of reality - I think a good dose of delusion is healthy if it leads to a happier mind. I sometimes think a happy mind is one that has just set itself free to imagine away without worrying what other people think about the "sanity" of those thoughts. When I work with children and we create characters for stories, they don't think it strange that these characters then become kind of real to them. It did not seem odd when we took these "invisible" characters on a day out to the woods and built them a theme park from twigs and leaves - it was just fun! And as a writer it is when my characters aren't real to me that my work fails to communicate with people... SO in the spirit of imaginary friends for grown ups are cool here is my new one:

M (is for Magic) was raised by owls - this makes him not sleep a lot and be able to fly. He lives in an amazing tree house he built himself that is reached by shimmying up inside a giant tree trunk. The house itself looks like a strange crooked house stolen from a fairytale witch. M spends his days inventing stuff - his current favourite invention is a woodland one man band which incorporates crickets. He has a bag of mysterious monsters and various boxes that when opened reveal strange magic that twirls through the air like a colourful night sky. He has a pet star with a fondness for sandwiches. At night he is a spy for the woodland world and his own curiosity. He flies great distances and has a particular fondness for states of the former Soviet Union. He watches people purely out of curiosity for their alternative way of life. I guess he is a hermit too in some ways. And hermit's need to build a world of their own. Kenneth Anger's below is sort of close to mine right now. Except I have a lot more sea side...