Sandcastles in the air

Sometimes without any conscious effort, I would just slip into a daydream. Building sandcastles in the air is a really cool pastime; it kills time; allows you to escape, if just for a moment from reality; and it gives you the pleasure of a short-lived thrill otherwise found in bursting the air pockets of bubble wrap.

It takes creativity to fabricate a daydream that is involving enough for you to dwell upon; well, at least that is what I like to think as a weak excuse for my subliminal endeavors. On certain Thursdays for instance, a certain jingle will ring in my head. It is the jingle for PowerBall, with the lyrics, ‘life can be a dream, shaboo’. It is not surprising that I will typically be holding a PowerBall QuickPick ticket as the jingle plays between my ears. One would call spending twelve dollars a futile attempt to purchase hope, while I call it money well spent to buy myself a daydream. The difference being, I don't spend the money in hope to win ten million big ones, but I spend the money to buy myself a moment where I could indulge myself within the imaginary walls of an alternate reality.

Questions of ‘what ifs’ and ‘what would you do ifs’ race across my mind, and I have to confess that I take a lot of pleasure solving these seemingly fruitless riddles. If I had ten million dollars, I would invest one third of it in property, perhaps in New Zealand, or maybe one of those new apartments in Docklands. I’ll place two million with my parents perhaps for their retirement fund and the rest will be nicely distributed in stocks, shares and unit trusts yielding a decent return equivalent of a clerk’s monthly pay. I would perhaps strut into merrill lynch with a cigar and ask for the best personal financial consultant and expect service standards meant for royalty. See, daydreaming is a pleasurable pastime. The pressure to solve self-created problems presents its own challenge and can create a rather unique hedonic experience; much like how dogs chase their own tail.

It is amazing how spending too much time sitting in the office can do to one’s head. Maybe I should get out of here, walk across the street, to the newsagent, and buy a powerball ticket.