I can’t remember a time when I didn’t daydream. I imagine highlights of a life of effortless accomplishment. That way I can skip the many bathroom cleanings and go straight to accepting my Booker. I always thought these fantasies buoyed me like helium, now I realise they are bricks I’ve tied to myself with string. Snip, snip. I’m free. Dreaming of eating cake doesn’t nourish. I’ve woken to breakfast on fresh bread and butter.