Saturday, September 25, 2010

Saturday Somniloquy

Last night the Love couldn’t sleep so he played Angry Birds on his phone until 4am.  Apparently I sleep-talked.  At around 3am I sighed and said "Oh, that’s just AWFUL" with fake concern, like a Stepford Wife. 
He didn’t try to converse with me.  I didn’t say anything else. 
Don’t you think sleep talking is bizarre?  And awesome?  That not only can you form coherent language, but you can conjure up sophisticated emotions like fake empathy, all while being disconnected from your consciousness.  It blows my Bunny mind.  It makes me think about death and that maybe there is something in the argument that your spirit can continue to exist even when the body is gone.  I mean, if my body can go on functioning in the deep night without the permission of my conscious mind, then what happens to that part of me when I am dead?
Did you know that the technical term for sleeptalking is Somniloquy?  Isn’t that a beautiful word.  As though because you’re so alone inside your sleep you can sometimes perform a soliloquy, into which nobody can enter.  The Love has tried sometimes to interact with me but I never respond.  I am alone.  Though it may seem like I’m communicating with the world I am completely and utterly removed: dead.
When you’re sleep talking, they say it’s because one part of your brain is asleep, but another part continues to be awake.  I understand that, but how does your mouth know how to form the sounds and emotions that are going on inside your head?  Your body is dead, but your mind is still going.  And yet your body responds and acts.  So your body becomes a puppet that is animated by something, but what?
I suppose our muscles know what to do to articulate what’s going on inside our mind.  But it seems bigger than that.  We can act, we can animate.  We can walk for goodness sakes. 
So maybe there is something else to us other than flesh and bone and mind.  Most of me doesn’t believe it but when I think about sleep talking I think – well there is another part to me that I don’t even control.  I’m know science has a lot of answers for it, but I still don’t get how when, as far as you’re concerned you’re out of it, and yet your being can still operate and even create new ideas and thoughts.  I’ve written down a lot of what people say I’ve said in my sleep and it’s astonishing, and in a variety of languages, including an interesting gobbledygook.  Where does that come from?
I’m sure it all just comes back to the mystery that is the subconscious.  But what is it?  Where does it come from? 
Ah, my little bunny brain hurts again, I must try and not wonder so hard on Saturdays.  The Love doesn’t – look at him, lying there, killing piggies with his Birds in slingshots.  Take that fatty!  Whoop!  Slaughtered!
I think I’ll go back to sleep.

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