A poor brahmin once received a pot of rice flour as alms from a kind villager. He hung the pot safely on a wall right above his sleeping mat, staring at it happily as he drifted into an elaborate daydream. 'If a famine hits,' he thought, 'I will sell this flour for a fortune, buy goats, breed them into a massive farm, sell milk for gold, build a grand palace, and marry a wealthy princess!' In his vivid daydream, the brahmin imagined scolding an imaginary disobedient child, angrily kicking his leg out in the air to show how he would punish them. *Smash!* His foot struck the actual clay pot hanging on the wall, shattering it into pieces and spilling all the rice flour across the dusty floor. His grand empire vanished in a second because he was living in an imaginary future instead of paying attention to the present moment.