Dreams and Garbage, Garbage and Dreams
or
Supreme Court Salad
I'll be calling myself Raymond today, which is my name, because I'm not feeling very Monty.
One function of the dreams we dream at night is for our brains to take out the trash, as twer. All the excess bits of dismantled ideas, emotional shrapnel, unread flyers advertising anxieties we've already seen. That's one reason why when we don't sleep enough, we get stupid. It's no surprise that speed freaks ramble on about bullshit all day; aside from the fact that they are on speed, their sleep-deprived brains are full of garbage.
Do you ever have a thought or an idea as you are just on the brink of falling asleep, or you've just woken up, that seems so brilliant and useful and interesting that you force yourself to remember it, only to find, upon fully waking, that it makes no sense, or just isn't very interesting? It happens to me all the time. I lay in bed and as I'm drifting off I have some idea for a story or script and it sounds perfect - because all dreams are perfect - and with that last bit of waking energy before I'm out I force the idea into some memory file to look at in the morning. Ideas like:
A story about a guy who falls in love with a spider.
A play in which all of the characters are named "Pants."
A guy makes millions of dollars by selling the same brick over and over again.
Okay, those are bad examples because now they sound like really good and sellable ideas. But you know what I mean.
In certain periods of my life - specifically, right now, this kind of vague in-between stage of my life - I feel like I'm half asleep, half-dreaming a lot of the time. As I sit around, drowsy, my brain very tender, vague ideas take hold and stick around longer than they usually would. Maybe I'm not sleeping enough, or dreaming enough. Today I will share some of these thoughts with you; you might call it trash-talking.
1) I woke up one Saturday morningish, hungover, not depressed as I often am when hungover, but feeling a little crazy and stupid. As Rosie and I lounged around in bed for a while I turned to her and said "Supreme Court Salad." She said, "What?" I said, "Supreme Court Salad."
"What does that mean?"
"I don't know! Supreme Court Salad!"
"I don't get it."
"I don't get it either. What does it mean? Supreme Court Salad!"
All day I had the phrase in my head, but not just in my head, it was something I didn't understand but desperately wanted to express. Every time I got close to forgetting about it, it jumped right back up in my face and I screamed at it through gritted teeth, "Supreme Court Salad!"
I wanted to call every single person I know. They would pick up the phone and say hello, I would say "Supreme Court Salad" and hang up. Maybe someone would understand.
2) Last night as I was falling asleep I thought of a really great game.
It's called "Name that Seaport." Two or more people can play it.
Here's how you play: When it's your turn, you think of a seaport. Then you name it after yourself. Once you've named it, say it aloud. Say me and Rosie are playing. When it's my turn, I come up with a seaport, then name it after myself, and when I'm ready I say "Raymond's Seaport."
Next it's Rosie's turn. She thinks of a seaport. She names it after herself. She says "Rosie's Seaport."
I come up with another seaport. I name it after myself. "Raymond's Seaport."
When you think you know what seaport your opponent(s) have just named after themselves, you shout out the answer. If you're right, you get an extra turn; if you're wrong, you lose a turn.
Whoever gets the most turns first wins.
Anyone care to play?
Love,
Raymond
10:34:41 AM 
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