I was walking to the mailbox yesterday evening, lost in a daydream I’d been wandering through for hours. I looked up at the sky and daydreamed about how cool it would be if I looked up at the sky and had a true moment of awakening, a flash of clarity about my place in the universe. I reached into the mailbox and pulled out a coupon flier and a bill for my cell phone. I walked by the recycling bins, dropped off the coupon flier, and shuffled back to my apartment.
I’m not sure why I’m bothering to relate such a dull moment, except that it captures the spirit of my existence over the past few days. This morning I watched the Today Show while I sipped my coffee. I kept thinking “This show is just awful” —yet I continued to watch. When I turned the TV off, I did experience a tiny spark of clarity. I had been entranced, caught up in a web of illusion. Suddenly, with the push of a button, I was in another place, rising from my couch, rushing out the door to catch the bus before slipping into another daydream.
I’ve been bothered lately by the news reports of red-faced, pea-brained yahoos squawking nonsense at town hall meetings, parroting what they hear on Fox News, and now toting guns to presidential events. Of course, these people think they’re in the right, and it’s people like me who are really nuts. Just like it seems crazy to Americans how Iraqis and Afghanis blow themselves up every day, yet we may seem like a bunch of dangerous lunatics from their perspective.
We’re all lost in our daydreams. Almost all of the time, we’re caught up in some web of illusion. Worst of all, some of us are well aware of this, and even know precisely what to do to snap out of it—yet choose not to most days.
What can I tell you? I’ve spent most of my life daydreaming. I’ve rescued women from being raped, fought off knife-wielding criminals, performed on the Tonight Show, told off my boss, been interviewed by Rolling Stone magazine – all in the past week, on my way home from work.
Now maybe, from someone else’s perspective, I was just riding the bus, in silence, with a far off look in my eyes. Maybe. But I doubt anyone was paying attention.