If you’re reading this post in the hope that there’s some kind of Einstinian formula for success in the bedroom, here’s what I can give you:
- Have fun;
- Have a safety word.
That’s all I have.
I’m not here today to talk about sex though. Last night I had an extremely interesting experience and it’s only one example of an apparent string of events in which I have been the central figure. I’m still trying to figure out whether the fact that I have had little to no knowledge of these events makes this story more or less hilarious. I’m going to go with more. Definitely more hilarious.
I can believe it after having just heard about it from others, but this morning I actually experienced it myself. On occasion, I appear to be fully conscious even though I am quite solidly asleep.
When the Sandman visits my bedroom, he seems to bring more than his simple sleeping dust as he ushers me into peaceful slumber. I’ve known about my snoring for years and am looking forward to resolving that particular issue in the near future, but there’s something else. It’s been brought to my attention before and in all those conversations I’ve listened in complete surprise as my exploits have been recounted, much to the amusement of the witness.
I’ve been told about how I’ve discussed printing money (although why I’d only talk about printing $5 notes is beyond me; obviously I’m not thinking about the big picture here!), machines that can give people angel wings and I’ve even raised the fact that Michelle Pfeiffer had a robot army that was going to kill everyone. Although, it turns out that Michelle didn’t want to kill everyone, she was just in a bad position at the time and couldn’t order the robots not to kill everyone because then she’d be killed herself. I think we can forgive her that.
Be careful - she has killer robots!
When I sleep, I usually have a few different dreams. I believe this stems from the fact that my night’s sleep is usually disrupted. Last night was not very different from the norm, except for the fact that I woke myself up just before 5:30am. I was in the middle of an empassioned reprimand of a number of theater producers for their treatment of three enthusiastic fans. The fans had come to this particular show (which was, as my brain informed me at the time, a production of The Mikado – which I’ve never seen) in costume that was so well done that they resembled cast members.
They were watching from off-stage and at one point one of the fans ran onto the stage while the curtain was down and she was mistaken for the cast member she was dressed as. This caused problems when the actual cast member returned to stage and as a result, security was called to remove the three fans from the theater. I had been watching the whole event unfold and it seems that I was unable to remain silent about the terrible treatment of the fans. So began my dressing-down of the producers as they made fun of the fans.
What ensued was a fiery discussion about how the producers had treated the fans and how they were doing exactly the same thing as the critics did to the production company. I woke up in the middle of it but at 5:28am it’s hard to tell whether I continued my argument with my pillow because I was still half asleep or because I feel so passionately about the injustice of it all.
Do your dreams ever spill out into the waking world?