I wish I’d stop having visions. They cost too much. And since I’m going to become a poor student this fall (again), I can’t afford them any more. I can’t afford these visions which trick me into spending too much, in the hope of actualising them. I need to accept a life without visions, a life where I stop yearning after some magical scene of peace, harmony, love and good food.

Am I raving? Let me illustrate with a few examples of these costly visions, which I just had these past two months.

Barbecue. Yes, I had a vision of a hot sunny summer, barbecuing in the small terrace, barbecuing on the beach, in parks, barbecues, barbecues, endless yummy meats and vegetables, gently roasting… I bought a cute little red space-age looking barbecue. I went on two picnics with various people, the last of which the weather was so freezing cold that we almost shoved each other on the burning coals in order to get some warmth. Do not ask how much I spent on buying suitable foodstuffs for the barbecues- suffice it to say as much as, if not more expensive than going to some decent family restaurant. The barbecue now sits in the back of my car- I can’t be even bothered to bring it in. It leaves a gentle trail of ash. Cleaning it is the worst task ever.

Gardening. I saw myself in the midst of an abundent urban garden, harvesting my homegrown tomatoes, herbs… I am now in the position of begging neighbors to take care of the plants in various stages of wilting as we embark on our lengthy summer parent-cation.

And the most recent one: Family Games Night. I see myself amidst a merry family circle, playing worthy intelligent middle-class games. Pictionary. Yes, that’s a good one, the sales girl assures me. She played it as a child, all through her life. Everybody enjoys it. I imagine myself sitting low on the rough cream-coloured carpet with light blue flowers which lays on the floor of my parents living room, my brothers and sister and children around me, playing Pictionary. We laugh as we draw pictures for each other. I tell the Golden Boy that I will be on his team- the sales girl said he might have some difficulty drawing something like ¨sound¨- but the Golden Boy tells me he wants to be on the same team as his favourite uncle.  The Golden Boy tells me he wants to play ¨Mortal Kombat¨ on his uncle’s xbox. I scream that he can`t play Mortal Kombat- he has to play Pictionary and we`re having Family Games Night. I yell at my brother. My father yells at everyone. The princess watches endless reruns of Ugly Betty.

I just spent ovr a hundred dollars on games for my imaginary Family Games Night. Pictionary cost 40 dollars alone. I have to stop.


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