When I was really young my sister got a pen pal at school. I was apparently jealous so I made up a pen pal of my own named Paul Raisin and would talk endlessly about all the great letters he sent me.
Apparently my parents decided it would be a hoot to actually send me letters from him. Talk about frackin a kid up by merging his imaginary world with reality.
Somwhere along the line I became convinced Paul Raisin was real. In fact, my parents took it as far to have him call me one day. (got the neighbour's older kid to do it).
At some point they realized that the charade could have long-lasting impacts on my psyche and Paul Raisin sent me a letter that he would no longer be able to write to me because he was moving to Europe. I distinctly recall being very upset. A couple years later my folks revealed the fact that they faked his existence to me.
I still have all the letters. Great keepsake.
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