There was a short time in my childhood when I wanted to be a forester. On many Sunday mornings my father and I would go for walks in the forest. This was in Germany and occasionally we’d pass a forester’s house. It was nestled in the woods, surrounded by a large flower and vegetable garden, and enclosed by a picket fence. “Wouldn’t it be nice to be a forester,” suggested my father, “and live in such a beautiful place?”
He then went on to tell me about the deer, foxes, rabbits, and owls that would come up to the house. My imagination began to spin and for a while I wanted to become a forester and live in this remote fairyland. But soon I went back to my first love: drawing pictures.
In my adult life I have on occasion fantasized about being a chef. Wouldn’t it be great to be a cook in a fine restaurant and dream up mouth-watering meals! I see myself in a tall white hat, giving orders to my sub chefs and every so often dipping my finger into a pot or pan to taste my inventions. A fantasy is something you never do, you just dream about it!
