Eternal Waking

In the first issue of Neil Gaiman’s graphic novel masterpiece, “Sandman: Master of Dreams,” the eponymous hero curses someone with “eternal waking.” The bad guy is next shown in the throes of a nightmare, from which he, blessedly, awakens—only to realize that he’s in another nightmare, from which he, blessedly, awakens—only to realize…. You get the idea.

While, thankfully, not nightmarish, I very occasionally suffer from a very similar malady. Just the other day, I woke up, got out of bed, fed my cat, poured myself a cup of coffee… when suddenly I realized, “Wait, I’m still in bed.” Sure enough, I found myself back in my bed, waking up. I went to the bathroom, brushed my teeth, turned on the shower… and realized once again that I was still in bed. By the third or fourth time this happens, I start to pay very close attention to my surroundings to assure myself that THIS TIME I’m really awake. I feel the pressure of my feet on the floor as I stand up…and yet, I’m still not really up.

OK, the fact that one of these times I walked into my living room, where I found a retired army general singing Magnetic Fields songs, should probably have clued me in to the fact that I was not quite awake yet, but still! After about five iterations of this false waking, one does start to worry. Maybe this is your life, now. Or maybe you died and this is what the afterlife is.  Finally, my cat decided I had been in bed long enough and it was time to feed her, so she stomped on my rib cage until I woke for real. One of the few times I’ve been happy to be so awakened.

I wonder if this is a common occurrence. Do other people suffer from eternal waking? And am I still asleep now as I type these words? That would explain a lot. Like the penguin in a tutu that’s sitting next to me on the couch.

I Did a Whole Five Minutes on "The Manchurian Candidate"

I know listening to people tell you about their dreams is about as exciting as watching soccer, so I won't bore you with details.  But last night I had this dream where I was on fire--metaphorically, that is: I was conversing with a group of people and firing off one-liner, after one-liner.  I was wilder than Wilde, sharper than Shaw, and if I say I was wittier than Noel Coward, I wouldn't be lyin'!  (Get it?  Coward?  Lion?  Same to you!) And in my dream, I remember thinking to myself that I would need to remember this stuff so I could use some of it in today's "Solipsist."

Now, ordinarily, in this type of situation, what would happen is, I would wake up and not be able to remember any of the things I had said that were so hysterically funny.  In this case, though, I do remember a bit of what I was saying.  And, if I do say so myself, the general level of wit holds up, even in the stark light of consciousness.  The problem is that most of the witty remarks I so easily tossed off had to do with the fact that, in the reality evoked by this particular dream, Chinese premier Hu Jintao was competing for the Republican presidential nomination.  Upon waking up, I realized that, as this was not the case, my jokes wouldn't really make much sense.

Yeah.

Why can't I just have sex dreams like a normal person?

A Parable

Last night, I dreamed I was walking along the beach, and Jesus was walking alongside me.  Suddenly, I looked back and saw only one set of footprints.  It was then I realized that Jesus was carrying me.  So I started screaming, "Put me down you maniac!!!!"  Then I woke up.

. . .And It Was All a Dream

You ever have dreams where you wake up and think you're awake but you're really just dreaming that you've woken up?  That was my morning.  It was Saturday, so I was able to sleep in, which was lovely, but I kept dreaming that I was waking up.  Let me tell you: That gets your day off to a strange start.  For an hour or so after I got up, I kept making sure that I was actually awake by sticking my hand in a waffle iron.  After the sixth or seventh time I did this, WOS--who by now was sufficiently convinced that something was up aside from my "normal behavior"--asked what I was doing.  She pointed out that I could probably just pinch myself and achieve the same assurance of consciousness.  By this time, though, I was fairly convinced that I was, in fact, awake, and after a quick jaunt to the emergency room, I was able to get on with my day, including writing today's "Solipsist."  Now, time for a nap!

Skeeball on Galactica

We have never subjected our readers to a description of our dreams. Mainly, this is because there is nothing--nothing--as uninteresting as descriptions of other people's dreams. Even a dream wherein one is on the Battlestar Galactica, on what must be the "Lido Deck," where one can play a watergun-target game and skee-ball, and where there also appears to be some kind of petting zoo (featuring a cage full of adorable skunks)--even such an inarguably interesting dream as that holds little interest for anyone aside from the dreamer.

In movies and books and TV shows, dreams are invariably highly symbolic and plot-relevant. The hero's dream alerts him to his erstwhile partner's treachery. In her sleep, the heroine receives a vision of who her true love is meant to be.

We understand why writers resort to this strategy: It's a quick and easy way to provide some insight into a character's subconscious or perhaps to provide a character with a useful revelation. But don't fictional characters ever just have dreams about visiting a forest filled with walruses?