Albert Einstein once said. “Imagination is more important than knowledge. Knowledge is limited. Imagination encircles the world.” My own imagination involves finding lost money.
Picture walking on a sidewalk and spotting a $20 bill on the side of it. Would you experience a rush of excitement over your good luck, or maybe a wave of sympathy for the poor soul who lost it? I have looked for money along sidewalks for years, whether in big cities or Whitewater Region, and in fact still do it. The spring is the likeliest time as the melting snow may uncover a treasure.
I have never found a nickel, but I know of people that have.
In the eyes of the law the answer is clear: It stipulates that if you find money, you must make “a reasonable and just effort to find the owner.” Otherwise, you’re “guilty of theft.”
Would it matter if the amount were, say, $500, or if it were on the floor of a casino? In a small town instead of a big city? In your workplace? Would your own financial state at the time factor into whether to keep the cash? What about your mood?
At least three or four times each year I dream of uncovering a stash of assorted coins, usually along the shoreline or a deserted field. In each instance there were more coins than what I could load into my pockets. Naturally, I focused on the higher denomination ones.
I read of two symbolism’s of dreaming regarding picking money from the ground. The first one is disturbing, indicating financial hardship and because you are picking coins up, then the likelihood to struggle to satisfy your wants.
The other dream analysis was a metaphor for pleasure and joy. It recognized your unused potential and talents. It also implied you have concerns about being able to keep your word. I’m not going to tell anyone about my lucky strike, am I?
In my younger years, I would travel on Highway 41 leading to Belleville. One day I was intrigued by an oak tree near Bon Echo Park. I kept thinking about it, until I imagined forgotten sack of money stashed under the tree, likely ill-gotten gains by a drug cartel. Every time I passed that tree, the temptation was in overdrive to check it out. This kept up for some years. Had the surreal imagination sensation become more important than the truth?
There came the day when I stopped on the road alongside that iconic tree, only about 20 meters away. I sat there contemplating for the longest time before I opened the trunk and retrieved a small spade. I foraged around the base of that tree for an hour or more, not seeing any hint of what I had thought was lying in wait there. Disappointed for sure but also relieved that the mystery was finally resolved.
It seems like most people have old Christmas ornaments and boxes upon boxes of nondescript, worthless junk in their attics. One person’s junk can be another person’s treasure, right? There are examples about people finding treasures of all kinds in the cobwebbed upper region of their homes.
After I inherited my home, I spotted an undisturbed area upstairs that I figured might have been a small attic. After prying off a few boards, I peered into a dusty space that was almost filled with cardboard boxes and leftover toys. I noticed the remnants of my hockey equipment in a heap in the corner. There were two boxes of decorations, containing Christmas and Halloween ones. Another held pots a pans, some in rather good condition. There were a few paintings, all far from priceless.
The main thing I fantasized about was a whiskey bottle containing gold coins but of course not! There wasn’t even an empty bottle of any description in there.
Then I thought, “It would be tragic having to return found money but also satisfying to give that money back to people who it really belonged too.”
This week my sister and I had a disagreement about what our Dad had said at a time, when we were much younger. She said, “The first one of us that finds a dime will receive a message Dad.”
Apparently that spiritual signal will determine who was right.
