When I was in high school, I wanted to be a writer. The same goes for elementary school, college, and now. But in high school, I had this whacky whack version of adulthood and it all starts with my acceptance into NYU. Why NYU? Because Felicity was the popular show back then and who didn’t want to wear her sweaters day in day out? In NYU, I’ll major in archeology and write on the side. (I don’t really know if NYU has an archeology program, but let’s ignore the facts because this is my fantasy).
My Manhattan apartment is the size of a warehouse or barn and affordable. I don’t recall what I did to pay the rent; this being a daydream, I suppose money grows on trees.
After X amount of years studying archeology, I’ll fly in an Amelia Earhart plane to do my archeology thing in exotic places.
Though never in my daydreams did I dig. Come to think of it, I had a lot of free time; archeology was extremely easy. I high heeled around the savannah in couture and typed my novels in a tent with an old fashion typewriter or jotted down my masterpieces with a fountain pen in rustic moleskin notebooks.
When I’m tired, I’ll stomp out of my tent in safari couture, clock my Winchester, and shoot big game—lions, elephants, gazelles, rhinos, hippos—I’ll kill them all and stand over their dead carcasses taking photos for my book jacket.
In short, I was a female Hemingway.
I hadn’t thought about this daydream in years. Just thought I’d share.
What about you? Did you ever have any wildly unrealistic fantasies as a kid or teen? Care to share?