Monday, June 6, 2016

I had too much to dream last night.

With apologies to the Electric Prunes, there was no drinking involved in my dreaming, but there was too much dreaming anyway.

It was probably because of a new medication -- a new medication the dog is on. He has not awakened me to go pee since he was brand-new and still had that new puppy smell. But lately he's been extra thirsty. At 1:30 Saturday night, he was whining like a fuzzy engine for whining, maybe just about the time I was going from dreamy REM sleep to flatline delta wave sleep. Or something like that. By the time we came back in it was hard for both of us to get back to sleep. So basically, I feel like I was in deep dreaming all night, when I wasn't out in the yard.

Two things I want to make 100% clear:

1) I have never been a student at Yale. I have never even been to Yale. I have never even passed New Haven. I have barely ever been in Connecticut. Members of my family are more likely to have gone to jail than Yale.

2) Prior to the last couple of months or so, I've never had any of those dreams of being naked in public. I know it's a very common nightmare, like falling or forgetting your lines on stage.

So why I would dream of being a student at Yale perplexes me. Worse, I was a new student in the middle of the semester, so everyone else was well along in their classes. Worse still, I was working my way through school by helping out with the buildings 'n grounds department, which the other Elis disdained. Worse worse still, my dog Tralfaz made a cameo as the school's dog, who dug up an underground vent, which I had to fix. Worsey worse worse, I realized that I had bonded with that crazy dog, and was very sad because when I left the school I would have to say good-bye to him. And totally worst or all, at some point in the proceedings I realized I had no clothes on -- maybe my wristwatch -- and had no idea how to get back to my dorm so I could get dressed.

There goes ol' Fred, streaking through campus.
This went on and on, and was far from my only dream that night. When I staggered awake my wife sent me back to bed, where I slept for another couple of hours, and still felt like a zombie all morning.

I don't know where all this nudity is coming from. It's not like I've never had anxiety dreams -- I have actually had that dream where I'm about to go on stage in a play and realize I have no idea what my part is. I've not been in a play since fifth grade, and the last time I was nude in public the doctor swatted my butt to get me crying. So I guess I'm due for a falling dream, which, with my fear of heights, could be the end of me.

If you should hear that Fred died in his sleep while clinging to the headboard, say a prayer. Because while people may think I went quietly, in truth I died while naked over Manhattan, losing my grip on the helicopter. (Which was probably being piloted by my dog.)
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