Wouldn’t it be wonderful if every time you lose anything, it would act as a seed to grow a tree loaded with objects like the one lost? This fantasy occurred to me recently when I — once again! — lost a cane. I think this is at least the fifth one I have lost, so it should not be too hard to find a cane tree and just pick one off.
Over the years, I have also planted trees which would bear headscarves, combs, lipsticks, nail clippers and files, crochet hooks, scissors, and lancet holders. If you do not know what that last item is, ask a diabetic. If other people also drop seeds even half as often as I do, we would be living in a very convenient forest.
A contemporary told me recently that when you reach 70, you have nothing left but fantasies. I do not like to believe that. I enjoy a number of very real pleasures, but I can also savor many good fantasies.
Every now and then, I buy a lottery ticket, especially if the power ball jackpot is in the mega-millions. Yes, I know my chances of winning are much less than the chance of being struck by lightning. I just like to lie in bed as I am going to sleep at night and think of all the things I will buy IF I win. Many of the things I think of are charitable donations or things I would like to do for friends. It would be interesting to know whether I would be so unselfish if we were talking about real dollars. Probably not.
Another favorite daydream deals with the superpower of teleporting. Although this has always been attractive, it becomes even more attractive as I get older. There are so many places I would love to go if only I did not have to drive there or arrange other transportation. You may be thinking of exotic destinations like Europe or Australia. While those are included, I would also include such mundane events as the Peabody Fourth of July celebration. I’ve always wanted to see that, but I am daunted by the traffic jam I’m sure exists there.
If I were offered a super power, that is the one I would choose. However, the gift of invisibility is a close second. Sometimes when I “play hooky” from church Sunday morning, I would probably go if I could go in my pajamas with my hair uncombed, and nobody would see me.
One marvelous daydream surfaces late every spring when the wheat first begins to change color, when it is still emerald green, but there is the tiniest gleam of gold. I wish we could find a way to weave a fabric just that color and make it into a ball gown. I admit that is a rather absurd fantasy, since I have not had occasion to wear a ball gown in years. If such a gown were possible, I probably would wear it, or may watch somebody else wear it.
Another fantasy with which I often entertained myself in my younger years was the notion of finding a baby on my doorstep. Of course, in modern times I might not be allowed to keep the child if I did. Now I’ve reached the point of being unable to cope if I were allowed to keep her, so I don’t indulge that dream as often as I used to.
Of course, there are other fantasies which would seem less impossible to other people but seem equally impossible to me — like writing a full-length novel or a series of grammar texts or getting my entire house clean at the same time. As you can see, if the day ever comes when I have nothing left but my fantasies, I will not be entirely bereft.