You are swimming through deep, murky water toward a giant hulking figure on the ocean floor, your oxygen tank full, goggles clear, flippers propelling you effortlessly toward a dark portal. No sharks, no sea monsters are anywhere in sight as you enter the ghost ship to discover a gleaming stack of gold and silver bullion.

Or, you have received an anonymous letter from a distant relative referring you to an estates lawyer. He hands you a sealed envelope. In it is a map – a very old-school, hand-drawn map with detailed instructions leading you to the outskirts of town, down some abandoned railroad tracks and into an old forest where you will find, buried beneath an old oak tree, a treasure chest filled with diamonds and rubies and other gleaming jewels.

Or maybe something less dramatic, like you are in a convenience store scratching off the skin of a ticket to find you have won the lottery. Goodbye job, goodbye worries, hello wide open world of leisure and choice!

I don’t really have these kinds of dreams. I’m too chained to reality. But, like most people, I occasionally think about what I would do if ever my ship comes in. What would I do with, say, 80 million bucks? But let’s make it more interesting: what would I do if I was to be given $80 million with the stipulation that I must invest the money exclusively on projects designed for the betterment of the local community, specifically Dunkirk and Fredonia.

Well, as I have always been particularly lousy with money and anything business related, this probably won’t go well. But here it is.

I would start with my most serious resolution. Millions would go to the humane society and any legitimate animal protection agency, especially those designed to thwart those greedy, self-deluding people who profit from puppy mills.

Next, I would look into the mysterious body of water behind south Main street and the thruway that we, as kids who fished there, used to call Mud Lake. With assurance from the EPA that the water is not contaminated by agricultural chemicals, I would buy that land, turn the lake into a recreational site with trails all the way around, small boat launches, and playgrounds. I’d stock it with trout and bass. I’d build an ice skating rink with lights and bleachers along one shore, and then bribe whatever public officials needed to get the county to purchase it for the public (for a Manhattan trinket!).

Next, I would drop several million on the Fredonia reservoir. Instead of wasting a ton of money and energy needed to force millions of gallons of impure water uphill and against the basic laws of nature, I’ll invest in the preservation of the beautiful natural surroundings on those Chautauqua hills and employ the genius of human engineering to rebuild the dam and outlet structure while preserving the basin. It, too, would be public, but with much better oversight than in the past.

Lots of people complain about the homeless situation – they don’t like to be reminded about sad or disturbing things like mental illness, or the frequent ineptitudes and sloth-like tendencies of our fellow man. Among the complaints is that they are an eyesore and a nuisance. Yet I see another conveniently overlooked eyesore in our area. Hundreds of used-up, rusted trailers (tractors’ trailers) and retired school buses lie in topsy-turvy clusters, in plain view from the road as the weeds and vines slowly creep over them as property owners turn a blind eye.

So another investment would be a kill-two-birds-with-one-stone motion: I’ll turn some of those trailer clusters into homeless villages, and maybe get some of the privately owned transportation businesses and repair shops to fix up a bus for homeless transportation.

Here are a few other wild-eyed investments: how about an affordable restaurant with excellent atmosphere, decor and service by the waterfront in Dunkirk? And another in Fredonia overlooking Canadaway Creek. In both restaurants, the priority for the cuisine would be less about huge portions (heaven forbid some college bloke complains he didn’t get enough to fill his cavernous gut!) and more about quality of taste, nutrition and room ambience.

What about the NiMo plant becoming the world’s largest haunted house? Or the D&F Plaza becoming an indoor mall? Or a music/bar venue in which live music is not an afterthought or some lame, last ditch effort to bring in more customers, but rather a commitment to accommodate both close listeners and those who just want a live music feel in the background?

In conclusion, I’ll say that, if ever my ship comes in, watch out: There’s a new Sheriff in town who is not afraid to think outside the box or to blow a whole lot of money!

Pete Howard, a teacher, musician, writer and house painter, lives in Dunkirk.