I have a couple of friends with whom I chat in the early morning hours, usually between 7:00 and 8:00. And I haven’t turned into my mother. Oh no, it’s way less predictable than that. I’ve turned into my grandmother. I guess the “start-the-day with-a-rambling-conversation” gene skips a generation.

Here’s a nearly verbatim conversation from a few mornings ago.

Me: “There’s skin covering my fingernail on my right hand index finger.

Friend: (I believe she had no reply. Who would??)

Me: Do you understand? I had only nine fingernails! The tenth was covered by the skin from my finger!

Friend:

Me: The skin is curved like the skin on a finger.

Friend: Yawns and mumbles something probably along the lines of “Why the hell did I take this call?”

Me: Oh now I get it. I just stuck my finger in my nose and it’s not the skin from my finger that’s covering up the nail. It’s my nose!

Friend: unintelligible verbal meandering.

Me: I think I’m awake! Or at the very least In some sort of half asleep state,

I recognized that I was spouting nonsense. I told my friend that I was sort-of awake and somewhat embarrassed and needed to end the call and return to 100 percent dreamland.

Weird sleep stuff is the hand in the glove of Parkinson’s. Disease. The peanut butter to PD jelly. The dog to the Parkinson’s pony show.

Many a morning I’ve awakened screaming. Sometimes I’m aware of the scary movie playing in my head. Other times I’m only aware of my own private horror movie because my overnight host informs me of said manifestation of terror.

I’ve acted out dreams, imagining myself a champion swimmer as I dive into the “pool” i. e. the floor next to my bed. I’ve had vivid dreams about all sorts of acquaintances. The nicest are dreams of romantic encounters featuring beaux from the distant past.

It’s not unusual for me to call my sister and inquire “ did so-and-so really die,” or “ Did I really visit that restaurant the other day?” Oddly, I frequently have more vivid recall of the only-in-my- dreams “events” than I do of the real occurrences in my life. When a friend mentions a store we’d visited the previous week, try as I might, I’m unable to call up any recollection of the experience under discusussion. If only I could control my dream-movies’ plots. No more screaming and just maybe at least a smidgeon more romance.

But wait. I remember a friend telling me years ago that there were things you could do to control dreams. It’s called lucid dreaming and if you want to explore it, you’ll probably need to spend some time down the old internet rabbit hole, There are a number of relatively simple techniques for facilitating lucid dreaming.. Over the years I have been known to solve problems in my sleep and, believe it or nor, design clothing, a talent I have zero aptitude for. But maybe, in some hidden corner of my brain, I’m the next Donna Karan.

I wrote the above post a week or so ago. Then last night, with no planning— true story- I had a an extremely vivid and wistful dream about my first love. It felt like he was right there in the room with me. I don’t know quite how to process this experience but I guess there’s a kind of power in knowing I can “visit” all sorts of people and places during my slumbering hours, and script them all sorts of adventures. Hmmm do I smell a business opportunity coming on?

“Dream schemes by Andi.” You send me a photo and brief bio of the “person of your dreams” and I’ll create a story for you to dream. Buy the Premium version and I’ll have the dream for you. Who knows, one of your dreams just might turn into an Oscar-grabbing screenplay!

Sweet dreams, my friends.