Seems to me, Forgiven, that when you fantasize you fantasize about things you would like to be-and/or-make real? One of my friends, when he fantasises, fantasizes about the "ugly" - he says - lads around him. Talk about turning ordinary unhappiness into neurotic misery... Did I ever tell you about the time I fantasized I was a choirboy in the Catholic church, singing (!) myself all the way up to the Pope himself? Well, of course I haven't, but I guess you know what I mean. I've found this kind of whimsical fantasy as fullfilling as any post-modern neo-realistic kitchen sink drama I could dream up. Ooh, and what is it I'm trying to say: well, fantasies don't have to be grounded in reality now do they? Did I ever tell you the one about the wise man who built his house upon the rock? Peace be with you Rex Infinity |