I’m a writer’s dream. My suspension of disbelief is usually freakishly intense, to where I’m often disoriented upon emerging from a darkened movie. Where the hell is Gotham? Has anyone seen Harry? or Sally? And so forth.
But beyond that, sometimes my subconscious has trouble distinguishing my experiences from fiction I’ve viewed, or read, or heard.
Example: the other day I found myself wondering how the harried seamstress/mom from the “She Works Hard for the Money” video is faring these days. Um, what??