Very mundane, yes. But it’s rare for me to dream in words at all, let alone recall coherent phrases upon waking, so first thing this morning I typed this into two different search engines. No hits, not even close. So I have enshrined the sentence here, and my only regret is that I don’t have time before leaving for work to figure out how to put the proper accent over the e in Pokemon.
Hey, see if you can get back into the same dream tonight.
I just read the Guy Typing While On Shrooms thread, and that has some phrases never uttered online, like “Really should mackdonna handheld shoehorn butterhorse.”
My wife Pepper Mill woke up two days ago with the phrase Mandibular Ocularization running through her mind. She claimed it was the ability to see things inside your mouth.
This made me think of this character from Beetlejuice:
I often try to get to sleep by reciting poetry in my mind. I remember a surprising amount of verses.
I often wake up with many famous poems mixed up in my head. Throw in a bit of music and I’m all kinda screwed-up.
I have just verified that two of my three aphorisms are indeed original, according to the internet:
*Smart cookies often crumble.
Those who drift with the tide get all washed up.*
My third aphorism already exists, but I still think I independently invented it; it’s just obvious enough that more than one person could originate it: It’s nice to be smart, but it’s smart to be nice.
Neil Gaiman’s A Game of You, part of his Sandman series, answers that question.
Wanda (born Alvin Mann), a wannabe-transsexual, dies; but we see her after death. She is a beautiful redhead, wearing a pretty gown. She takes Death’s hand, and seems happy to go off into eternity that way.
Well, today my three-year-old composed the sentence “You’re an asshole, Pinkie Pie,” which, apparently is also unique according to Google. I suppose that should say something about my parenting, although I don’t know if it’s good or bad.
That was my main line of attack; before posting I wikied Eaton and Eton, but got nowhere. I checked out the Yale mascot, and Yale’s locale. I checked see if there was a Yale in England. Shrug. No soap radio.
“Eton - eaten” was the correct interpretation. My sleeping self should of course then have suggested they go on to Cambridge rather than Yale, but hey, I’m impressed with my dreaming self either way.