When I was a small child, I had an imaginary friend named Jimmy. I don’t remember him, but my late mother told me that I would blame Jimmy for making me do things I wasn’t supposed to do - like crossing the railroad tracks.
I used to get eye floaters all the time when I was a kid.
Not knowing what eye floaters where back then, I somehow convinced myself that thing was my invisible friend that only I could see.
I called him Rice. And Rice had seven companions that where constantly with him that only he could “see” and “hear”. And he would always consult with them.
So if I asked Rice a question like: “Should I get that last cookie from the cookie jar?”, Rice would first consult with his companions and then let me know what the consensus was.
No.
Never.
Which seems out of the ordinary.
Nope. I didn’t have imaginary friends. And I didn’t think that there were monsters under my bed.
But my parents took me to see Poltergeist shortly before I turned five, and I spent several months convinced that the clown doll I’d been given as a newborn would come to life and get me if I didn’t tie it up in shoelaces and put it in my closet at night. I guess that’s kind of an imaginary foe.
Well, there’s all you guys…
I had an imaginary pet English setter, since my parents wouldn’t let me get a real one. I forget what her name was, but I used to play fetch with her in the field behind our house; I’d throw sticks into the tall grass and she didn’t really bring them back.
I did, but have no memory of it. My mother talked about it later.
Not that I recall.
I have probably only ever seen bits of two or three episodes of The Big Bang Theory but I loved this exchange:
You must be a Sim. 
I had imaginary neighbor kids but I was too shy to interact.
“Sometimes I think all my friends have been imaginary.”
-Calvin & Hobbes (Calvin’s Dad’s Brother–Uncle Max)
One of my earliest memories is of being in the basement near the furnace, and some man I didn’t know was standing there working on it and telling me I probably shouldn’t be down there. I asked him who he was, and he told me that he was my uncle, Jimmy. I must have asked what “uncle” was, because I remember him explaining that he was my dad’s brother.
So for about a year after that I had an imaginary brother named Jimmy who lived in the furnace.
I had an imaginary friend. His name was Gorgo.
All I had to do was summon Gorgo with my mind and he would appear from over the horizon and kick the ass of anyone who was giving me shit.
Gorgo never *actually *came to my rescue, but I suspect that was only because he was involved in some other important mission…or perhaps he was just too lazy to wake from hibernation and rise from the murky depths of the Atlantic Ocean (that’s a common problem with giant aquatic lizards you know).
In any case, my young neighborhood friends and foes believed that Gorgo was indeed my friend and so they didn’t give me any shit, lest I summon him to kick their asses.
He kind of looked like Godzilla, except Gorgo had big ears—and he was real.
Better still, as big as Gorgo was, he was just an infant. If I needed a real weapon of mass destruction, I could summon his mother.
I could have used Gorgo during my divorce case a couple years ago, but he failed me there, too…damned hypertrophic pituitary gland lizard!
There was a small reproduction of this painting on my bedroom wall when I was little. I named her “Alice”. I don’t think I ever actually pretended to play with her, but I remember talking to her on the phone.
Mitchell Brown was my imaginary friend. We used to run around in my yard and play soldiers. He was shorter than me. That’s about all I remember.
Nope, but my oldest son did.
Same here kinda but I’m not 100% sure I believe my mother. I am sure I didn’t after the age of say 3 and I caught her out on some other claims about my early life.
Oh yes around age six. I am a guy and my imaginary friend was a girl, Deenee.
I had real people that I imagined were my friends.
That’s the only kind of friend I have now.
Never had an imaginary friend as a child, although I did gain one as an adult. People may find it weird, but I don’t think it’s a problem as long as you keep the “imaginary” part foremost in mind.
Although sometimes I get confused as to which one of us is imaginary.