I sometimes imagine that something is taking me out of my head and transporting me into another place. I can sit on a hill and imagine that I am on the ocean. I can float in rivulets of spontaneous nothingness and dust-speck out of here. I have been doing this since I was a child. I think that all people do.
Some people loose their ability to do so, and some make it a full-time job.
Those often end up on the street. The other class finds a befitting prison of unimaginative workaday ensconced self-atrophy and dysphoric ennui that they are perhaps worse off than the drunken beggar. The star system is needed. We need these heroes like we need the lottery. To keep the peasants from becoming to revolting.