In today’s monograph comes a surprising tidbit that you may not know about me. It has to do with nocturnal activities, more or less.

As I drift off to sleep I usually dream a dream or two. Now my sleeping dreams occur much like everyone’s, ordinary as can be. Except my illusions arrive complete with closed captioning. Honest. They really do.

I have normal images of normal things but all the words spoken in my dreams are contained in prominent balloons of various sizes. Or they can be displayed at the bottom of the mental screen as explanatory footnotes. A given is the premise that all dreams, yours and mine, arrive with built-in audio, right? But, of course.

For example: if I am dreaming of riding an elephant (well, why not? Sounds fun.) I “see” the elephant in my mind. And there is an orb floating above the massive head with “Hello” encapsulated in the balloon above the written word “elephant”. At the bottom of the image is a footnote stating the beast is 1) gray, 2) huge, 3) gentle, 4) et al. There also is a 5) that reminds us there is a book called Life of Pi that has an elephant within its covers. Comprehensive to be sure.

Sometimes all this mental wandering in my not-awake brain skips over to other books I have read about animals or Asia or ears that are ginormous and flap. If so, then my dreams necessarily become quite convoluted and a bit complicated.

To be frank, my brain is quite crowded. It is full of compartments, trays, drawers and dividers – much like an ordinary filing cabinet. The little gray cells of mine that have a touch of OCD insist on proper cataloging. There are drawers for nouns, verbs, adjectives and synonyms. There is a huge bin just for phrases.

Words do not just spew forth from my mouth – they are retrieved from the mental filing system and strung together to become a coherent thought if I am awake, closed captioned, footnoted messages if I am still in dreamland.

If perchance, I entertain too many dreams in the REM phase of sleep I wake in the fog of morning not rested or refreshed but mostly exhausted from searching the intellectual brain cabinets for sentence parsing or noun likenesses, even related tomes or topics. All of this hardly makes for soothing slumber any night of the week.

This leads me to the wishful conclusion that it would be more restful if my thinking machine could be less unique – more, well, less geek-y or inventive.

At the very least, said cerebellum should be equipped with a prominent, easily accessible on/off switch so I might delete the pesky blimps containing the closed captions and thereby grab a night of uncontested zzzs.

Ah, sweet dreams. Sweet uncaptioned, non-footnoted dreams. How pleasant that must be.

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