There's a convenience store next to the office. There are always guys in there, just hanging around. It can't be for the ambience, or the decor. They don't seem like they're watching the overwrought Chinese soap operas with the clerk. They're not actually shopping. What they're doing in there, is scratching. It's the lottery. Probably some cash changed hands for the first lottery tickets way back when, but now what they do is bring in their winners, $4, or $8, or even $2 tickets, exchange them for more, and then conscientiously scratch the new ones right there in the store, propping themselves up on the stacks of yesterday's newspapers, or the empty parts of shelves.
The dream of striking it rich obscures everything about the convenience store, how it's grim, how it's a dead end, how no one is getting rich in there, or is rich. How they're spending parts of every single day in there, sometimes going through several cycles of scratch tickets. The ones who dream even bigger will eventually fish out some money and play the numbers. An instance of how a beautiful dream is creating its opposite, instantiating the convenience store instead of Capri. A dream can be more powerful than reality, and can change it for the worse. Dreams are not, perhaps, a neutral technology.