Category Archives: dreams

sleep is weird

Yeah, so what? It’s a cliche, “sleep is weird,” but who cares, it’s true and you know it!

Sleep is so trusted, so hard-wired, and rarely questioned. So consider this buck stopping, at least momentarily, to at least introduce the possibility that sleeping is crazy: the act of getting in a bed, closing your eyes, not moving for a bit of time, then having your body slow to a crawl, while you lose consciousness, and begin “seeing” these usually-provocative yet incredibly-fragile strings of thoughts, colors, then you open your eyes many hours later, having lost so-and-so amount of hours. Lost! But we never question, why. Why do we daily commit this unthinking bodily ritual, trading so-and-so years of our life for restfulness, the energy to make the time that we do have more productive, fulfilling. Hmm.

Do you think you’d give up sleep if you had the choice? Like, when you win the lottery, you can either get your winnings paid to you in installments or get it all in one lump sum, a straight shot. Hey, don’t get me wrong, I love sleep, I wouldn’t trade it for the Dickens, but that doesn’t stop me from questioning it, and it doesn’t change the fact that sleep, this zombie-inkling in all of us to power-down daily, is weird! Sleep is weird, weirdo, yes Sleep, I’m talking to you, you’re freaking weird, I love you, but you’re freaking crazy-weird, yawn.


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Filed under crazy world, dreams, throwing it out there


So in my dream last night, this dude I half-knew from grade school for some reason was staying with me for a couple of days. Let’s call him Michael H. I wasn’t super friends with him back then, but it was basically the consensus around Birch Elementary that he was one of the funniest guys in our class. Always joking around, always laughing. Bottom line: Michael H. was just a funny guy, and chances were, some day he was gonna use that sense of humor, by golly, and rake in the dough.

But in my dream, grown-up Michael H. was not the same. Somehow I had the foreknowledge that not long before, Michael H. got into some kind of accident, probably related to a car, masks1.jpgbut my dream wasn’t specific. And he hit his head and now was a lot slower, clumsy and completely unfunny. Wow. He didn’t tell jokes anymore, he just looked at you uncomfortably, as if he could feel the disappointment in your eyes, “Oh man Michael H. used to be such a gas,” “What a waste,” “He could have written for MadTV,” etc.

And it was really awkward having him around, especially after he sat on my computer, but the dream quickly started to evaporate not too long after that, and I woke up quasi-disturbed, thoughful, yargh.

On a lighter note, I’ve been really liking the word “yargh” lately. It’s not quite argh, which has that dangerous pirate connotation, and certainly not yay, which is just too poofy for me. Yep. Yargh, I’m pretty darn sure, is a winner.

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So my good buds Andrew, Matteo and I get off at some unnamed subway-station that felt like a hub for a lot of different trains, but also sort of in the middle of nowhere (Broadway Junction?).

And we were on the third floor but had to get down to ground level so we easily jumped onto the back of a moving train to get down (i remember that rush feeling of falling but also being in control), but we didn’t get inside this train since it was an “O” train (bright orange insignia) and we needed the 4-5-6 I think. As we jumped down, some MTA lady (that looked like a man) yelled at us, and I remember thinking, “Wow, this is the first time I’ve ever gotten in trouble for doing this.”

So while we’re waiting for the train, (and this is the part of the dream that really stuck out) some older lady in a motorized cart comes zipping by on the tracks (which weren’t sunken underground but were on our level). Yeah she was just whizzing along as if in her own personal subway car. I look confused at the MTA woman (who looked like a man) and she gives me one of those hand gestures like she’s saying, “Hey don’t ask me, this world has gone crazy.”

All of a sudden, two more people in carts pass by like nobody’s business. And one of them, as she’s zipping along, drops her slipper, which gives me a chance to get a better look at her.

Yeah, she’s pretty old, not wearing too much but you can’t see anything since she’s sitting in her motorized cart. On her hands and feet were these gloves/slippers that looked like skin, and there was a bunch of hair on them, so it was sort of like she was wearing men’s slip-on hands and feet (almost like Frodo-feet but much less hair). Also she was chanting: “Oh demonos monene” etc, some kind of latin gibberish thing- monk-like chanting, you know.

Just then, the train starts to come and I get all nervous because I think it might hit the chanting lady – but it misses her- and the dream ended…


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Filed under crazy world, dreams