The pony’s being is nurtured by the one who really loves and understands her, here on our side. The purest happiness and warmth to form in her heart can be made from the one who definitely feels that way for her, which can be you, so keep on loving, and caring for yours.
How so? Do I not also exist in the human imagination? In words, in pictures, in files on a computer, in the minds of those who know and have known me? Am I not defined by these imaginary selves as much as by my physical self? Do they not meaningfully impact the world around me?
Just because your existence has no physical antecedent doesn’t make you any less real. Indeed, much of our history has been shaped by men whose physical existence is uncertain or unlikely.
Actually, I’m the aggregate result of countless drives, impulses, learned reactions, et al. that gets treated as a singular entity because modelling all those things separately would leave no brain-power to do anything else (like plan my next meal, or breathe).
