"Anne Shirley, do you mean to tell me you believe all that wicked nonsense of your own imagination?"

"Not believe exactly," faltered Anne. "At least, I don't believe it in daylight. But after dark, Marilla, it's different. That is when ghosts walk."

........

Anne might plead and cry as she liked--and did, for her terror was very real. Her imagination had run away with her and she held the spruce grove in mortal dread after nightfall. But Marilla was inexorable. She marched the shrinking ghostseer down to the spring and ordered her to proceed straightaway over the bridge and into the dusky retreats of wailing ladies and headless specters beyond.

"Oh, Marilla, how can you be so cruel?" sobbed Anne. "What would you feel like if a white thing did snatch me up and carry me off?"


This passage from "Anne of Green Gables" resonates with me just now. It always had ever since I had first read the book.
I find that I can relate to Anne in many ways, especially because of the power of the Imagination and its dangers.

Have you experienced moments when your imagination seems to devour you? How does one deal with an over-heated imagination without willfully suppressing it, literally fainting (like Jane), or undergoing an unsettling punishment (like Anne)?