Fantasies. We all have 'em. And I'm not talking about the dirty kind.

(Well, okay, the dirty ones too.)

I'm talking about the vast range of human activities aimed at imagining something else.

As a species we have a tremendous wellspring of creativity. We're able to daydream, plan and hope in ways that our fellow animals seemingly can't match. This is a phenomenal power. It's why you can enjoy a book without pictures, use a diagram to build a shed, or create a sweater with nothing but yarn and two needles.

Somewhere along the way we started to use this power to imagine things that aren't. We began to make the diagram without building the shed. To imagine funny monsters made of yarn and the needle-wielding samurai who beheads them.

This is the amazing slope that imagination takes us down: We go from planning, to speculation, to fiction, to something else called fantasy.

I'm going to define fantasy as a type of fiction so unlikely to be true that it actually allows us to forget the truth. You probably know the feeling. It could be a book, a video game, or a piece of art, but at some point you've lost yourself completely in a work of fantasy. And it probably hurt a little to come back.

This power of fantasy to escape reality can be useful. It allows us to entertain ourselves, to relieve stress and to get a break from difficult challenges. It can be a social activity, as with games, or a journey in solitude, as with a book.

But fantasy can also be the dream-killer.

Last time I talked about the heroic life: what it means to live toward the goal of doing great things and changing the world. This is a lifestyle that, by definition, requires action. I think this line said it best:

The heroic life is not what you're already doing... If you think you've reached it, you've already given up on getting there.

In other words, the heroic life is rooted in the idea of striving for more. It's fueled by the insatiable desire to do greater things, the nagging sense that there's more to life than being the best software engineer or volunteering for the PTA. It is founded on a thirst for change, personal development, and making a lasting difference.

I believe that all people have this drive. Many of us lose sight of it as the responsibilities of adulthood pile up. Jobs, debt, and unnecessary obligations vie for attention. Each one convinces us we need it. We are told that we will be bad parents, or poor, or irresponsible, or selfish if we opt out. But that's not true.

Moms can do it. Dads can do it. Families can travel the world freely, and 80-year-olds can too.

Taking action to improve your life doesn't require great wealth—it just requires planning and the courage to try. This doesn't have to mean traveling; it could mean leaving the job you hate to freelance or consult. It could mean resolving your debt. It could mean relocating so that you don't waste hours of your precious, precious life commuting. With some research, some new habits, and less than a year of thoughtful planning you could be on the road to any of these things, a permanent and satisfying life change.