Somniloquy

A well known fact about me: I talk in my sleep. 

Every so often I say normal things, but for the most part they tend to be incoherent streams of nonsense, typically aided by spoken sounds like "Beep" or "Scream," that make it so "friends" never ever forget them if they overhear me.  "Kim, remember that time you said, 'I am gum chewey, yes, yes, that it why I'm moving all the time.'" "Kim, remember when you said 'Watch out for the golden fist, it's coming at 'cha.'" Or my personal favorite, when, at Quinne's after hammering down IPAs at the Brooklyn Brewery for hours, I screamed out "Forehead?!? I guess we'll find out in the dog month" and awoke to uproarious laughter. Oh ha, ha everyone. It wasn't me. It was my subconscious! 

I talk way more when I'm drunk, stressed, and/or sleep deprived. That being said I've woken Chad up every night this week. And every month. For the past 7 years.  Now that we live together, I'm beginning to feel persecuted. He started keeping a notebook. 

Timmy also talks, but I feel this is beyond genetics. My trusty friend google told me that only 5 percent of adults have the "disorder" known as sleep talking. I've always wanted to be a rare statistic.

I also stumbled upon a reference to Dion MacGregor and realized I'm small potatoes compared to him. Please check out this gem as well as this little gem. It's pretty much what I imagine Daniel Johnston's brain to be like 96 percent of the time.

Dion's roommate recorded them. There's books and records dedicated to this dude's dreams. So it appears, there are also more people out there like Chad. Time to hide my tape recorders. (Yes, I have more than one. Ah, journalism.)