7/25/07 Dream a Little Dream of Me

Do you ever wake up suddenly and think you're paralyzed because you can't move? Or think you're blind because you can't open your eyes? Or that you're still somewhat stuck in your dream even through you're awake?

I do this thing where I have really realistic dreams, but they happen after I'm already awake. (And no, this is not caused by excessive amounts of alcohol or recreational drug use). Like, one night I woke up and saw a mouse on the comforter. After the initial shock wore off, I figured that I absolutely must be dreaming because no sane mouse would be up on the bed with two people and two snoring cats. That's just the logical conclusion. So I shook my head. Mr. Mouse was still there, sniffing around. I pinched myself on the arm. He's moving slowly over folds in the covers. I even felt my face to see if my eyes were open. They were. I'm blinking, and the mouse is still there. It's a very realistic mouse, so I wake Tony up.

"Tony! There's a mouse on the bed"
"No there isn't. You're dreaming."
"No really! I'm awake. My eyes are open! See?"
"There's no mouse"
"Yes there is! I pinched my arm! He's a white mouse, and he's on the end of the bed right there".

Finally, Tony rolls over to see this mouse and as I'm pointing out where it is, it gets wavy like a mirage and disappears. There's no describing the level of Tony's I-told-you-so, especially when I've shaken him awake in the middle of the night to witness what can only be described as a hallucination. The whole thing was rather embarrassing. I figured that this was just the beginning of a nervous breakdown, and in no time, I'd be the crazy lady who talks to herself and bathes in the fountain in the park.

Today I came across this website on Ye Ol' Internet. (Not exactly the New England Journal of Medicine, but it explained a lot). According to it, I am not crazy (or psychically gifted and seeing visions, as I had secretly hoped). I am experiencing something called hypnagogoc hallucinations (which is less fun than being psychic, but still really impressive to say). Anyway, it goes on to explain that these are "dreams that intrude on wakefulness, which can cause visual, auditory, or touchable sensations. They occur between waking and sleeping, usually at the onset of sleep". Some people also think that reports of alien abductions are actually hypnagogoc hallucinations. Apparently, it's not even a unique quirk. 37% of 5000 people polled in the UK reported experiencing hypnagogic hallucinations too. So really, I'm not so different from 1850 people in the UK, except for the fact that I, of course, don't live in the UK, and I have better looking teeth. (I'm sorry UK people...that crack about your oral hygiene was uncalled for and only reinforces a stereotype that I obviously picked up from too many Austin Powers movies). Anyway, here's another website for hypnagogoc hallucinations, if you want a second source.

It's really kind of strange. I'm seeing the room as it is because I'm awake, but I'm also inserting dream things into it at the same time. I've seen people in the room, birds flying around the ceiling, spiders, strange cats, and just recently, I woke up to find old black and white silent cartoons playing in the reflection in the mirror above the dresser. Tony and I refer to it "as just the mouse thing again", and I've come to accept the fact that no matter how real it looks, there's no point in waking Tony up to see it because he's just going to be annoyed. (The boy really values his sleep). My test now is to check and see if the cats have responded to whatever it is. Mason doesn't judge me if I wake him up and point out the mouse on the bed. If he sees it, it's real, and if he doesn't, then I must be dreaming again. (Think Russell Crow in A Beautiful Mind when he asks people if they can also see the girl talking to him). I could see how this could alarm some people if they didn't know that they were dreaming, but now I'm just amused by it. I figure that the best thing to do is just to sit back and watch silent cartoons in the mirror until I fall back asleep again. The white mouse at the foot of the bed can split the popcorn with me.