Apparently the term for it is "overactive imagination"
according to my family, who've seen it develop in me... what they didn't see was this past term at my university. Fueled by a balanced diet of caffeine, sugar, cider and not much sleep, I attempted to finish a "creative project" I'd been set by the university. A few hours after staring blankly at the paper, there was a knock at my door- one of my flatmates asking me to clear my crockery off the table for their party.

'Well,' thought I, 'If I can't be creative on paper, maybe I can do this creatively and get some sparks off it.'

So I headed into the kitchen and made a tower of dishes. It was truly a wonder to behold, held by a scaffolding of cutlery and gradually tapering to a point: a solitary glass proudly holding aloft a bunch of chopsticks, atop of which the dishcloth unfurled in the breeze. A thousand armies of weevils could...well, probably knock it over if I'm honest, it was rather unsturdy. Actually, that noble breeze might just have been the tower swaying due to gravity trying to undermine my artistic brilliance.

I stood staring at the tower, pondering this, until my flatmates gently talked me back to reality: "What the hell are you doing?"
(Sivvus trolley collision in the fruit aisle led to a jam, Sat 23 Jul 2011, 21:21, Reply)