When is a dream a dream, how many should one person have, should you even call them that maybe, and what’s with the mice?

Of Dreams and Mice - Midlife Sentence

You don’t have to tell me that’s too long for a title. My blog platform has this built-in tool that tells me that, and also whether any one piece I write has the appropriate number of subheads and the right sentence structure and whether it has active versus passive language and the appropriate key words. It looks the whole blog over and grades me with a red, yellow, or green light for readability. I’m thinking it also wishes it had another light for “what the hell even is this and how do I grade it?”

(Which is how I’ve come to realize that, if machines do ever take over, we’re going to need someone to be our designated free association speaker to be in charge of confounding the AI while we break in and take all the canned chili and Ho-Hos and other nonperishable foodstuffs and make our escape while the machines are trying to decipher whatever it is the free association person is saying because machines don’t have a “what the hell even is this you’re telling me” response).

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This is exactly why we can’t have nice things

ironman copyMike says he can’t remember his dreams, but when he does, he’s sometimes running from the law. I imagine he’s not remembering why he’s on the lam because his subconscious is taking the fifth.

Ironically, those of us around here most likely to have something weighing on our conscience are also the ones with completely pleasant dreams we do remember.

“What’s that word for being in the middle of a dream where you realize you’re actually dreaming?” Jack asked me this afternoon.

I’d forgotten there was such a term, so I looked it up. It’s a lucid dream.

Anytime I have a dream where I realize I’m actually dreaming, I immediately try to do one of two things: fly like superman, or ask Tony Stark if he’s in the mood to come up to my place for a nightcap.

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