Sending Emails in My Sleep
Until I saw this article, I thought I was just crazy–people kept replying to emails I couldn’t remember sending. But it turns out if you sleepwalk, you can send emails in your sleep. Here are a few of the emails I sent out. Anybody had a similar experience?
To Jay Lake:
Puppet head. Puppet head. Bear head. There was a river full of snakes, but the land was made of mongeese gooses and they ate all the snakes. Puppet head. Again. Dude, your shirts blind me like Gawd.
To Sonya Taaffe:
RED 60 60 fer me. REEEED IT. YOU gots classics EDU. Me I gots other deadlines. Feel like a hick. Puppet head not for me. No, I will not take the puppet head. You heard about this river of Snakes? I think it’s in the underworld.
To Caitlin Kiernan:
There was a wall with a hole in it and within the hole there was a rat and inside the rat there was a hole and inside that hole was a tunnel to a secret land and in that secret land there was a lost child and that lost child had a rat friend who had a bird friend who had a cat friend and before the blow came the rat inside the hole inside the tunnel blinked and the child’s heart fluttered to life.
To Jeffrey Ford:
They put the concrete feet on me, but I had the concrete legs already so it didn’t hurt so much. Don’t cry for me, Chile. I had it coming. They should’ve put the concrete head on me ages ago. Where’s that money you owe me, puppet head?
To Catherine Cheek:
Your zombie chickens scare me. Put PUPPET HEADS on them. Put puppet heads on them so they don’t stare so, and don’t give their eyes run of the house. Chicken scratch is chicken feed, but with a puppet head, it’s puppet feed. Put it all in a handmade book and send it to Kansas. They’ll know what to do with it there.
To W:
Your head is on backwards, puppet head. Let me help you with that, puppet head. The rat is watching.
January 12, 2009 at 11:27 am
Stop putting instant coffee in your Nyquil.
. . . don’t give their eyes the run of the house…hehehe . . .
January 12, 2009 at 12:05 pm
Sounds like you have been listening to early They Might Be Giants: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=bhOYrZxgJvc
January 12, 2009 at 1:57 pm
I have to say I like intertwining symbology of the stories. I smell anthology.
January 12, 2009 at 2:51 pm
Funny, I smell fart.
January 12, 2009 at 2:53 pm
Again, that would be the instant coffee in the Nyquil.
January 12, 2009 at 2:57 pm
It’s official. You can write better than most people in your sleep! These are hilarious.
Over what time period were they done?
January 12, 2009 at 3:11 pm
Maybe this might start to explain the Avenging Samurai story…
January 12, 2009 at 3:20 pm
LOL. That was my way of saying: no odd-ball anthos for a little while. ;)
Zach–they were done over a period of two minutes this morning as I composed this blog post. Still, they didn’t reel in their bait–or none of those cited check google or this blog that often. LOL!
January 12, 2009 at 3:47 pm
I sleep in my sleep.
Most of the time.
January 12, 2009 at 5:14 pm
You heard about this river of Snakes? I think it’s in the underworld.
It turns up occasionally in New Jersey.
January 12, 2009 at 6:01 pm
Apparently you have a subconscious obsession with puppet heads and rats. Who knew?
January 12, 2009 at 6:35 pm
Jeff: Did you actually send me that e-mail? If so, did I reply? I can’t remember. I might have been sleeping.
January 12, 2009 at 10:21 pm
There’s a great John Ashbery poem - whose title currently escapes me - about famous writers composing in their sleep. It’s a very funny literalization of the saying that “even Homer nods.” It can be found in his collection Notes from the Air.
January 13, 2009 at 1:33 pm
I thought I was having a seizure just now.
Then again I often say stuff like that out loud when I’m awake.
January 15, 2009 at 11:21 pm
My mate keeps tabs on things I’ve said to him when I’ve been more or less asleep.
“Pasta is your father” is the one I get the most flack for.
I’m pretty sure it was a subconscious allusion to the Flying Spaghetti Monster.