There is one inalienable human right, so safe from the probing, intruding fingers of the authorities that it was unnecessary to even mention it in the Constitution.
We call this sacred privilege the privacy of the human mind, including its absolute freedom to travel through space and time without permission or documentation. Its common name is “Daydreaming”.
God gave us this free pass to make life more bearable. Walter Mitty made it famous when James Thurber gave us a peek into Walter’s overactive brain. The world is full of psychic adventurers, mental nomads sometimes anxious to go anyplace other than “here and now”. What kind of cerebral excursion did you take today?
Perhaps it was while you were in the supermarket checkout line. A magazine cover on the rack may have brought you back to the best vacation you ever had or maybe it was one of your “impossible” daydreams. Never mind, you don’t have to tell.
Boredom is a first-class ticket for an intellectual voyage. Take a look around you at your fellow passengers on the commuter train or bus. Note the glazed eyes and blank expressions. They are no longer on board. Where have they all gone?
The world does need people who find fulfillment working at the grindstone. But there’s an escape hatch available when a corporate grindstoner summons a daydreamer into his office. “I know it’s late, but we’ve got a problem with the Bumble contract,” says V. P. Grindstone as you grasp the hatch’s release handle .
(I’m going to miss another sunset. I was planning to fish down at the lake. I think I’ve finally found where the large mouths are feeding.)
“We can’t live with their consequential damage clause,” growls V.P. Grindstone.
“I’ve had them waive that, sir. It was in my report.” (First I’ll row over to Purzycki’s Landing where that big willow hangs over the water.)
“And we absolutely have to avoid any extended warranties called for in their order.”
“They backed off and agreed to our standard terms, sir.” (Doesn’t he read my reports? Now where was I? Oh yes, under the big willow. Just before dark I’ll use the new flies or maybe I’ll use two rods and work the bottom also. But what bait should I use down there?)
“Well, we’ve managed to clear that up then,” says V.P. Grindstone, patting himself on the back. “It was a real can of worms.” (Worms? Of course, worms! Al Blake caught a four-pounder last week with a night crawler. I got something valuable out of this meeting anyway.)