I had an imaginary friend named "Squeaky" he was tiny, lived in my closet and under my table, had bright green fur, though it posibly could have been blue. He spoke with a high, squeaky voice that came out of my own mouth. Am I brain-fubar'd? Yes
I don't remember where he went, but I have the distict impression that he grew bored of my introverted nature; he was getting tired of getting shut out by his creator. Whoa, that makes me more like God than ever before.