I think we all have events that happen to us over which we have little or no control: the loss of a friend, or a loved one, a misunderstanding that escalates into something way out of proportion to the original intent--a life-changer, perhaps. You can't seem to get your balance back, and even years later you find yourself reliving bits of this and bits of that, perhaps even inventing a different ending. Or a different beginning.
And then we get all embarrassed and worried, because we are "obsessing" and we tamp it down even harder.
I'm trying something a bit different. Im writing it out, the way I wanted it to be. You imagine, perhaps, that an old buddy or an old flame has suddenly come back into your life twenty, thirty years later. Write it down from where the possiblities kick in, and then play it as you want it to go. I tried this a few days ago, working my way through a possible if imaginary reunion, and somewhere near the end, something magical happened. I wasn't writing it anymore, it was writing itself.
The reason Im doing this, is when ordinarily I write something as a prose piece, once it gets said, typed out, and corrected, it goes into a drawer and I forget about it. Ive said what I needed to say, and its over. I thought, why not do this with reality? Granted, its a reality that will never happen, for whatever reason. But its a stab at a reality that could have happened, given a few shakes of the snow globe.
And now I have no more desire to write it again, to play it out, to invent. To obsess.