In a courtroom, it's important not to lie. But in real life, what's a lie and what's transmogrification?
Today I was remembering someone who thought I was a fool for having listened with compassion to an acquaintance who'd told me a harrowing story of a bad combat situation. After he'd left, she turned to me and said scornfully, "He wasn't in the Army. He was too crazy for them to take him, even back then." She obviously thought he was pathetic for having told me his tale and she tought I was dumb to have believed him. But his story was not that different from those of people I know for a fact had gone to Vietnam. More importantly, when she said the guy's story "wasn't true," I thought, "It's true for him."
That man had had an enemy, someone he feared would kill him. He had felt drafted into a situation he didn't want, and trapped once he was there. He'd lived through it, but it had left him with a lot to deal with. Who were the enemies? I don't know and I don't think it matters if it was his parents, siblings, classmates, teachers, tough guys in the neighborhood, the other team on a sports field. Why did he change himself into a war hero? Well, for one thing, people like war heroes more than they like scared guys whose mental health issues kept them out of the draft. He didn't want me to think of him as a loser; he wanted to be seen as a survivor.
In a similar vein, someone I used to know believed she was the victim of non-human entities. I think the people who hurt her were in fact, human. I think it was her father and one or more people he knew. But for those extremely bad things to happen, one does wonder if some sort of dark force overtakes a weak human spirit. If not that, then just a descent into the darkness brought on by tormenting experiences before a young soul is developed enough for a coping mechanism. I never disputed my friend's version of her history. She was telling me why she was always so scared and so mistrustful and so bitter. She had good reason to feel as she did. And I think facing the horrifying reality of her childhood was too much for anyone's mind, much less that of a sensitive person.
I've written so much fiction in my life which was transmogrified from real events and real people. Most of the time, the characters are composities, and times/specifics are altered to fit my needs. But I have often truly felt that my fictionalized version of an event gave a truer flavor of what actually happened that a re-telling of the facts would have given. Even as I say "re-telling of the facts" I mean of course, according to my biases, my memory, and the limited information I have.
And I don't feel foolish if someone deceives me. I'd rather be wrong by believing something that isn't true than be wrong by denying someone's story and then finding out it was true later.
