Some, so I am told, hate to ransack and sort their closets for fear of what they may loose upon an undeserving universe. I suggest you try raking your way through a mind stacked from cortex to lobe with boxes laden to the gunwales mitt brilliant ideas, notions plans and stumblings. It is a forbidding place scary and dark bulging with the compliment of your life’s worth. Every unkindness, every dangerous thought or squalid plan. . .just lying there awaiting resurrection.
Of course there are a few out there that are like my brother-in-law that have not one ounce of silent luridity within their saintly bones. A stroll through his mind is like a walk in the park, a dance among the stars. . .a daisy presented to ones love. An unblemished confection of shimmering glimmeringyness.
Of course he has had no fun either.