I often hear people tell me stories about the dreams they had last night. Most of the time the stories are filled with vivid memories and details about specific parts of the dreams and even their thematic meanings.
I’m not one of those people. I’m lucky if I even dream in the first place, let alone remember any of it. I suppose it’s kind of a trade-off: I have a great memory when I’m awake, being able to recall song lyrics, random trivia and specific moments with great detail.
Shaun, on the other hand, can give you a play-by-play on what happened in his sleep last night (and even occasionally wakes up during a good dream to jot down ideas for his writing) — but his brain can’t tell him where he put his keys two seconds ago. Or what time he was supposed to be somewhere. Or what his name is.
Sometimes it feels like I’m missing out. I mean, sure, it’s nice to miss out on nightmares and night terrors and the like. Let me tell you about the few things I do recall. Continue reading Dreams, Nightmares, and Psychic Powers
I remember being a kid and thinking life was complicated. It wasn’t. Having to decide between a half pint of chocolate and regular milk in the lunch line was not a tough decision compared to the choices that lay ahead. But there were a lot of things that seemed more important at the time.
Decisions weren’t the only things that were easier back then. Once upon a time, I could sleep anywhere at any time. Stay up until 4 in the morning? No worries; I was up at 7 or 8 o’clock sharp feeling refreshed enough to go for another day. Hell, waking up at that time was almost automatic, regardless of when I went to sleep. And I slept in all kinds of weird places — random couches, an assortment of beds when jumping between staying with family members, even the floor on nights when parties got a little too raucous.
Last night I realized that those days are completely behind me. I have about three beds I can sleep in comfortably. Everything else is broken. Sure, some beds are still adequate for a decent night’s sleep, but there’s only a handful that don’t leave me with a sore back in the morning. And the most recent example was sleeping in Dave’s Tempur-Pedic bed when the ATB crew was in Phoenix this past weekend to celebrate his birthday. Continue reading Of Beds and Backs
As an esteemed and highly reputable journalist — or something thereabouts — I’ve had the luxury of working in this field for longer than most folks my age. Really, I started dabbling in the field about a decade ago in high school, although it wasn’t really serious until the start of my sophomore year in college.
Journalists are strange creatures. They flock to jobs in a dying industry (although it’s not dying as fast as most folks think), they make jokes few understand (about things like double trucks and dangling participles), and they are more often than not behind the times (one recently departed co-worker still has no home computer and furrowed his brow every time someone mentioned “the Twitter”).
For those stuck working at daily newspapers, they may also be stuck keeping very erratic sleep schedules. Continue reading Sunrise, sunset