In a sense it is even wrong to say that it is I who feel grief over Desdemona's fate. I imagine such a grief, and am drawn into sympathy with the thing that i imagine. We might say that there is neither real object nor real feeling, but a response in imagination to an imagined scene. In fantasy, by contrast, there is a real feeling which fixes upon an unreal object, in order to gratify vicariously what cannot be gratified in fact.