Raul spent his life under the illusion that he would one day write a novel. Toward this endeavor he exerted no effort. He had no typewriter, tape recorder or even a working pen. He had a laptop but never realized that even Notepad can be used for writing.
Yet he dreamed of writing the great American novel. He knew nothing of plots, scenes, character development, or sentence structure. Despite all that, he was sure one drunken weekend he would somehow puke out a great work of fiction.
Some dreams are destined to remain dreams. Some folks are just hopeless posers.