Hyperrealistic Daydreaming

I walk about a mile and a half every day in order to get to and from the train station. That time is spent daydreaming.

What it would be like to go back in time, and be the only guy with an Army tank in the Punic Wars? Would it make me a ruler? Would I at least get a lot of Roman or Carthaginian chicks?

But my problem with daydreaming is that I can’t leave well enough alone. As in the movie theater, I inject just enough realism to make the vision less fun.

For example, I’ve got to wonder how long before I run out of fuel for that tank. And then what? I’m the guy with the heaviest paperweight. And no paper.

Ok, so switch the game. It’s a never-empty-gas-tank-tank.

Great, but now, how long before I run out of ammo? I mean, I can scare a lot of people into submission by showing up. And a lot of people will surrender when they hear how I blew up the castle down the way. But sooner or later, someone’s gonna test me, and I have to use more of my precious, precious ordnance.

Until I’m out of it entirely and have to impress people by running over villages and stuff.

Anyway, when I get out of the tank, in order to chat up the women (yeah, and now I have to add on a device that allows me to understand them, and vice-versa. Hell, even in ENGLAND they weren’t speaking English yet), the king of whatever hill I’m sitting on will tie me up and eventually figure out the tank himself.

Oh, I can keep adding magic to the thing. I can say, ok, while I’m out of the magical, time-traveling, tank, using my babelfish device, I’m invincible. But then, that’s just unrealistic. There. I said it.

So let’s toss that out and move to a different time-traveling thing-o. What about a telescope? I’m the guy who shows up with this awesome thing that let’s you see the stars and moon, and enemy movements, from afar.

But would that really be enough to lead Hannibal to take Rome? Or whatever. I mean, a telescope would help, but it’s not really the same as… you know, a tank.

When the daydreams turn to having lots of money, again I get in trouble. I’d really like to be immortal (at least until I say differently), so that I can enjoy all that money without the sword of Damocles. Deathocles. You know? Like, the universe would laugh its stupid head off if I got hit by a bus three days after catching the leprechaun. 

So I’d need to add immortality to all the cash.

That’s better. But now, what about relationships? I mean, wasn’t Highlander lonely? I think he was. He was always in love with someone’s grandma, ’cause he fell for her when she was young and hot. But they never hooked up, except his first wife. And things didn’t end well for her. I mean. She died and all.

I’m not saying that I’d turn down immortality and huge, overflowing coffers of the green stuff (morphing to iridescent splashes of color in the future, of course). If someone out there can offer it to me, I’m there.

But my imagination tells me that there’s trouble in that life, too. Rain must fall.

In short, I literally can’t imagine heaven. I can’t imagine a place where everything is perfect, always. Isn’t that weird?