Eternal Rest

There has long been an association between sleep, and death. First of all, obviously, there's that oft-repeated sentiment, found on some gravestones, in eulogies and obituaries and in memorials: "Requiescat In Pace", which is often translated to, and literally means - Rest in Peace; associating death with resting. There's a popular quote from 17th Century poet Thomas Traherne - “Sleep is cousin-german unto death: Sleep and death differ, no more, than a carcass And a skeleton.” [Author's Note: cousin-german means "first cousins"], which speaks for itself. Also, there's the 1947 poem "Do Not Go Gentle into that Goodnight" by Dylan Thomas, the titular line of which refers to dying as 'that goodnight', a phrase often used to farewell someone going to sleep.
When someone is deeply sleeping, they're often referred to as "dead to the world" - in fact, in my family, when a baby is sleeping in a pram, we might refer to them as a "dead kid" (this is commonplace, right? We're not weird, you're weird...).
There's also a  somewhat popular Tumblr meme, which refers to sleep as "death without the commitment", and various other puns on sleep and death, like "sleep is a free trial of death".
It kind of makes sense. After all, both usually involve lying down, moving less and not taking part in society.
But this free association between the two, in my opinion, leads us down a disturbing path, because of the existence of dreams...

For, when we are asleep, we often dream - we live a sort of pseudo-life, which can be beautiful and fantastical and allow us to achieve things we always wished to in life; or, we occasionally experience nightmarish scenarios of being chased and tormented. This may lead one to assume that similarly, when we die, we also "dream" in a sense - living a sort of after-like, which can be beautiful, or tormentous.

I'm not religious, I'm aspiritual and I'm a skeptic, so I don't really believe in the afterlife - it is my opinion that when you die, you are dead, and any notion that some part of you "survives death" is not only inherently paradoxical, but nonsensical.
However, because I'm an agnostic, I am willing to say that there may possibly be some post-life experience. I don't think that makes scientific sense, but until we fully understand the mechanism of life, death, consciousness and mind, there does remain the distinct possibility that my assumptions about dying are wrong.

However, unless and until we understand all those mechanisms, jumping right in the deep-end and saying "yeah, we die, and it's just like when we dream" is not only stupid and wrong, it's also deeply disturbing.

For one, you might think that I'm jumping the gun by saying that people assume that after-life is like dreaming, but honestly, the Judeo-Christian concepts of Heaven and Hell sound a lot like "living the dream" and "suffering through an eternal nightmare". And to me, it explains the dichotomy between how some people interpret death. Some theists believe that after death, we experience nothing (like a dreamless sleep), some believe that everyone, no matter what, will go to a peaceful afterlife (like a dreamful sleep), whereas some believe that if you're bad, you'll either be annihilated, or experience something horrible (having a nightmare). It also explains how there are so many wild and various explanations for how these "spiritual places" look, since to each dreamer, their dream will be differently surreal.
Yes, there's more specifics in mythologies, but both of them include personified dream manifestations (in the form of angels or devils) and both seem to be magical, breaking many known laws of physics, which makes sense if they're built upon dream logic.

Oddly enough, I'm not actually writing this post to make fun of religion. I know it seems like it after some of that, but it's not actually the point. See, what truly inspired me was a moment when I was a wee, young, child. I've said in the past that I never truly considered myself religious. I was "raised Christian", but I never truly believed, I just assumed that others knew the answers to the parts that made no sense, and I'd come to understand it later. Well, when I was about ten years old, it was late at night, and I think I was distracted by a particular thought... "What is heaven like?"
I'd seen it represented in movies and television shows as being a place in the clouds. But... I'd been in a plane, and I hadn't seen heaven, so I knew it wasn't actually in the sky. But, was it just foggy? The point is, I didn't know, and I didn't understand how anyone could know, since all the people who had "seen it" were definitely dead.
It was occupying my mind, so I went to ask my father. I think it must have been like 11 o'clock at night, since I got out of bed, and called out for my parents (I assume - this was a long time ago). But what I remember is that next, I was having a conversation with my father in the hallways outside my bedroom. Well, I say it was a conversation, but it was probably just:
"Hey Dad?"; "What's up?"; "What's heaven like?"
And what my Dad said to me, I don't know if he actually believes this, or he just said it to shut me up and make me go back to bed. But he said: "It's whatever you want it to be."
But, since my Dad said it, it was official - one of the smart people told me, so I believed it. So, I said goodnight, he went back to bed, and so did I.
But, in bed, I was thinking somewhat excitedly to myself. "Huh, whatever you want it to be, wouldn't that be something?" and I was planning on sleeping, but I thought to myself "What do I want it to be?"
Now, I was probably ten at the time, and I was thinking, I wouldn't want it to be like ordinary life - everyone knows, if you get the chance to wish for something, you don't ask for something you already have. You might not get this opportunity again, you have to ask for something really cool...
And I was thinking, what's cool to me? Well, at the time, I had recently visited my cousins, and played a videogame on their computer, called Croc. That was kind of a fun game, challenging, but a weird world. So I thought "hey, what if I wanted heaven to be JUST LIKE CROC! That would be so cool!" - look, I was a child, alright? So, as I was getting tired, I was imagining what it would be like to actually be Croc, running around, with the ability to jump really high, collecting gems and stuff. I was starting to drift off... then I was snapped awake, when I realized. Huh... Mum and Dad don't like to play Croc.
What if they don't want heaven to be like that? Everyone who dies goes to heaven, right? So, how would that work? Well, that's okay, I figure since Dad had said "it's whatever you want it to be", I interpreted that as being a royal you - all persons get what they want, so they must get what they want as well...
But wait, if everyone gets what they want, what if people want different things? What if one person loves another person, but that person doesn't love them back - they couldn't be forced to love them, that wouldn't be fair... Well, maybe if you want something from certain people, then you get a fake person instead. That's makes sense, right? After all, what if you want to spend life in heaven with your friend, but your friend goes to hell? They'd have to be fake, otherwise you'd never get "what you want".
But then... how would you tell who was real, from who wasn't? It would have to be impossible to tell, otherwise you wouldn't have "what you want", but that means that everyone has the same potential of being a fake person. In fact, since most people wouldn't want to be changed, then most people in your dream would have to be fake, otherwise you're forcing them to live out the heaven you want, not the heaven they want.
Now, I was too young to have heard about the concept of a philosophical zombie, but that was essentially what I was disturbed by, the idea that you could never tell who, or what, was real. But I'd figured, okay, this is clearly a bit of a broken system... so, clearly, people must be put into separate "heaven countries" to live out their wants. It seems kind of lonely, but hey, at least you get what you want right? I mean, sure, people might be fake, but they seem real, and maybe God knows how to solve this paradox...
But the more I thought about it, the more I realized that getting "whatever you want" is a horrifying ideal. After all, I GET BORED OF CROC. When I visited my cousins, I only played for ten minutes, then left to go do something with my cousins (since that's kind of the reason why we go to visit them, to spend time with them). Not to mention, Croc is kind of a sub-par game - I enjoyed it, but even as a kid, I knew that it was a pretty simple set of moves you could do in a mostly-empty world; the idea of spending an eternity in that world sounded so incredibly lonely.
But, okay, I have a solution... I was assuming that when you die, you get what you want at the time of death. So, if when I die I'm thinking "Man, I want a cheese sandwich", I'll spend eternity eating a cheese sandwich. That doesn't make sense though, since quite a few people, when they're dying think "I don't want to die", and that's kind of impossible. So, what if it's more dynamic?
What if the world changes, when you want it to? Yeah, almost like a lucid dream (hint-itty, hint, hint [this is what inspired me to write this post yet, are you seeing the connection, yet?]).
So, I might want to be Croc, but later I might want to fly, and after that, maybe spend time with my family and heaven-friends, so I could want that, and go do that.
But wait... I'm just a kid (at least, I was at the time), and I don't know what I want most of the time, and I often want all kinds of different things - "I want this toy, I want chocolate, I want to go to Dreamworld" - sometimes I couldn't make up my mind. I mean, I just wanted to be Croc a few seconds ago, until I thought about it and realized that it was as depressing as it was horrifying. Does that mean that my every whim that passes my mind would change the world around me? After all, Dad didn't say "it's whatever you decide you want", or even "whatever you want, that's a good idea" it was just "whatever you want".
So without asking, perhaps without even fully comprehending what I want, I would be stuck in this constantly-shifting, surreal landscape of artificial people, experiencing the things I want for the brief moment that I think them. So, if heaven really was "whatever I like", I had two options. I'd either be stuck in one world, and get bored with it inevitably, since death is an eternity; or I'd be left awash in the waves of my unstable desires, hoping for a moment of peace, and only achieving it so long as I can becalm my torrential thoughts, and focus on one desire at a time.
At that point, I decided "well, heaven must not be like that at all, because that sounds horrible, and heaven is supposed to be nice". Then I went to sleep.

But, this is my fundamental issue of believing that death is like sleep, and the afterlife is like dreams. Because if heaven is dreamlike, then there isn't a heaven, there's just two hells. One where you're not in control, being tormented by nightmares, and another where you're in control, and either everything you do is meaningless because the world can change at the speed of thought, or it's an eternity trapped in a surreal landscape which, inevitably, you will tire of.
If you ask me, that would make Hell the lesser of two hells, since at least in Hell there's hope that you can fight to change things, you can at least run away when being chased. In Heaven, all problems go away, and there's nothing to strive towards - life would be hopeless, pointless and meaningless. And I figured all that shit out when I was ten years old.
So, all told, whilst I don't know what the "post-death" experience will be like, the idea of being dead is actually more comforting than some ideas people have about living in an afterlife fantasy. And if you think that dying is like going to sleep, I implore you... WAKE UP.


I'm the Absurd Word Nerd, and this is the end of my Halloween Countdown for 2021. I'm trapped inside since I'm only half-vaccinated (at time of writing), and whilst I did a trick-or-treat thing last year, and it was kind of fun, I won't be this year because we're still dealing with coronavirus - and I implore that you do the same tomorrow. Most vaccines haven't been approved for children, meaning that kids are running around unvaccinated, and taking part in an event where you have to travel all around town, going to people's houses, and being handed stuff to put in your mouth is just asking for trouble.
So, unless you want your kids to get sick, and spread a deadly virus, please stay home and stay safe; enjoy Halloween with some holiday horror movies, and until next time... sleep tight.

Counting Black Sheep, (Phase 3)

The next morning, I decided to see my grandmother, Etta Wardell. She's lived in Hollow Falls much longer than Dad and me, and she's the only person I trust as much as him. Maybe even a little more, since she understands stuff that a boy often can't. I can always rely on her, when I need advice.
It's just a short walk, so I knock on her door with my good hand and wait. She answers the door wearing a grey skirt and a nice, white blouse, with her long, gray hair neatly twirled up in a bun. Despite her age, she's always looked pretty youthful, with barely any wrinkles besides crow's feet.
  "Bianca?" she says, frowning. "Shouldn't you be in school, love?"
  "No, I can't go," I say. "Grammy, I need to talk to you about Grandpa."
  "Alright. Come in, I'll make you a cup of tea."
She leads me through her house, and I follow like an obedient puppy, closing the front door behind us. The place is lush, and well-kept, her lounge room full of photographs and little figurines of animals and dominated by a grandfather clock that ticks along reliably. We head into her cosy, little kitchen, and she puts a kettle on the stove, as I wait, staring.
  "What did you do to your hand?" asks Grammy, pointing to my bandaged hand. I'd wrapped it up with some gauze from the bathroom cupboard.
  "Oh, it's... I got it from a, uh... a sheep bite," I say.
  "Oof... nasty things, them." say Grammy, walking over to sit at the kitchen table. "You're lucky you didn't lose s finger. Sit down, sit down."
  "Sorry," I mumble, and I pull out the chair and drop into it. "I'm a bit out of it."
  "You look tired, Bianca. What's the matter?"
  "I can't sleep," I say. "I haven't slept in five days."
  "Five days?" says Grammy, concerned. "How are you still standing?"
I don't know what to say, so I just shrug.
  "Grammy, I want to ask you something. I know it's weird, but..." I trail off, as I try to find the words. "am I cursed?"
  "Cursed?" she asks, frowning so deeply, you can actually see her subtle wrinkles on her forehead. "What are you talking about?"
  "Like... I dunno," I say, gesturing with my hands to try to show what I'm trying to say, but I just end up waving them around like an idiot. "Like, my Mum died, and Grandpa died, so what about me? Is our family... doomed to die in our sleep?"
  "No, it's not a curse," says Grammy.
  "But, what did Grandpa see?" I ask. "Were you with him in the end? Did he see anything?"
  "I don't know, Bianca, he died in his sleep. I don't think he saw it coming, but we'll never know."
  "But, before," I insist. "Did he see anything weird before he died? Like visions of a reaper, or black sheep?"
  "No, he never saw anyone comign after him, if that's what you mean. But, as for sheep, he definitely saw a black sheep." The sound of the kettle whistling interrupts before I can speak, and my grandmother gets up to fetch the pot. "Cup of tea?"
  "Uh, yeah..." I say. "Grammy, what do you mean, he definitely saw a black sheep?"
  "When your grandfather was alive, we owned a sheep farm, dear. Ten-twenty-two Eureka Highway," she says.
  "Oh, right," I mumble. I remember Mum telling me that my grandfather was a sheep farmer. It was so long ago, I must have forgotten about it. "And they were black?"
  "Not all of them, but quite a few. He thought they were good luck, since it meant they had good stock, a nice mix of genes." Granny puts a cup of milky tea in front of me, and sits across from me again, this time holding a steaming mug.
  "But when he died, he didn't talk about... I mean, did he have trouble sleeping?"
  "Your Grandpa kept to himself, Bianca. If you want to know what he was going through, you'd have to ask him."
  "But he's dead, Grammy!" I say. "That's why I'm asking you."
  "Just because he's dead, doesn't mean he's gone," she says, reaching over a hand to squeeze mine. "When I'm feeling lost, looking for answers, I sometimes go and talk to him."
  "Talk to him? How?"
  "I go and visit him, at the churchyard," says Grammy. "I tell him what I'm going through."
  "Visit him?" I say. I slowly pick up the warm mug of tea and take a sip. It's warm, and although it tastes a little bland, my stomach grumbles instead of retching, so I gladly drink it down.
  "If you want answers, maybe you should talk to him as well. It can help..."

Even though it was still early morning, the cloud cover made it look late and dreary in the afternoon as I head through the open gates of Hollow Falls Cemetery. There are gravestones cluttered closely together, plots outlined in concrete and headstones of all shapes and sizes, from squat, little plaques, to large statues of angels, and I can even see two mausoleums, those little houses for dead people. I stumble around on my unsteady feet. How do they organize graveyards? Chronologically? Alphabetically? I look from one headstone to another, looking for 'Henry Wardell', but I don't even know where to even start. That's when I see those familiar, red eyes. There are several of them, waiting deeper within the cemetery, standing amidts the gravestones. I head over, careful to walk around each plot as I make my way over. There are four of them waiting for me in a little group, all facing towards me, all as black as smoke, with eerie, dark faces and eyes like blazing rubies.
As I get near enough, I see that they're standing close together, on a grave, and as I get close enough to touch them, they step aside, two on the left, two on the right, flanking the grave. Sure enough, the epitaph on the gravestone reads: 'John Harrod - 1925-1991'
The sheep are staring at me, but otherwise just standing there. Maybe they're waiting for something. Well, my grandmother said I should talk to him, so...
  "Hey, Grandpa," I mumble. "I've never spoken to you before, but I know what you look like from your pictures. I'm your granddaughter, Bianca. I'm, like, your only granddaughter..."
I feel stupid, but I trust my grandmother. She said it helps her, so maybe it can help me.
  "What did you see before you died? Do you know what killed you?" I ask. "Was it... uh... was it the reaper that I see in my dreams?"
I wait quietly, staring at the grave, swaying slightly from standing up so long on tired legs. But, I don't hear any answers, or see anything. I'm not sure what I was expecting.
One of the black sheep to the left of me moves closer towards me, and reaches out its face towards my bandaged, left hand.
  "No!" I snap, yanking my hand away. The sheep backs away, scared, and bumps into the sheep behind it, and the two move to the side. I notice that they were standing on a grave that was right next to Grandpa's, with just half a foot between each headstone. I recognize the name.
  "Mum?" I say, stepping closer. I didn't realize they were buried so close together. But, sure enough, it says "Rachel Elise Wardell 1975-2002"
Maybe I should have talked to her, instead. I never even knew my grandfather...
  "Mum, what should I do?" I ask. But now I just feel silly. I know she can't hear me. This is stupid. I look over at the sheep, still standing around on top of the graves. Surely that must be disrespectful.
  "Shoo!" I say, stepping forward. "Get off! Get out of here!" I yell. The sheep back away, still staring at me. That's when I see the headstone on the other side, and stop dead still. I recognize a third name: 'Michael Wardell 1971-2002'
  "Dad?" I walk over, staring at the stone. That doesn't make any sense, my father is alive!
Then I see the gravestone right next to it: 'Bianca Wardell 1992-2007'
No... no, this is impossible. I stand over my own grave, staring at the untended grass. This is a dream. But how can this be a dream? I woke up, didn't I?
The bony fingers of a skeleton burst out of the grave, and wrap around my leg.
  "Aaagh!" I shriek. I try to kick it off, but it quickly pulls into the grave, and drags my leg with it. I feel the cold dirt drag me up to my knee. "NO! Let Go!"
I fall over as it drags me deeper, pulling me up to my waist, and I feel the dirt scraping my skin as it spills under my shirt, the cold earth clinging to me. The black sheep surround me, as it covers up to my waist, and the sheep look down at me, staring that thousand-mile stare.
  "Please, help!" I call out, pawing at the dirt around their hooves, but they just watch coldly as dirt spills over my shoulders. Then my chin, then I'm dragged into the darkness.

  "AAAAGH!" I scream, sitting up on the couch.
  "No, it's okay, it's okay. You're in my office," says Dr Jacobs.
  "What's going on?" I say, glancing around. I'm in the psychiatric clinic again, sitting on the couch.
  "You fell asleep," says Dr Jacobs. "I didn't want to wake you."
  "How did I get here?" I ask.
  "I think your father brought you by car," she says.
I look at my hands. The bandage is gone, and there's not a scratch on me.
  "How long was I asleep?" I ask.
  "Only a few minutes," says Dr Jacobs.
  "That's impossible," I say. "I dreamed that... I mean, it felt like so long."
  "It can be hard to keep track of time in our dreams," says Dr Jacobs. "Can I ask what you were dreaming about?"
  "I don't know, I... I don't know when it started."
  "Well, why don't you tell me about the last thing you remember, and we'll go from there."
  "Okay..." I say, readjusting myself on the couch. "Well, I was at the cemetery, at my grandfather's grave, and I saw my Mum's grave. Then my Dad's - then mine."
  "You saw your own grave?" says Dr Jacobs.
  "Yeah, and then a hand came up and grabbed me, and dragged me down. That's what woke me up."
  "That's pretty intense," says Dr Jacobs. "And, what do you think it means?"
  "That I'm gonna die," I say. "I mean, pulled into my grave isn't exactly 'subtle metaphor', is it?"
  "And how many sheep were there?" asks Dr Jacobs.
  "Four. There were four this time," I say. "But I don't know what it means. My grandmother said that they're good luck."
  "Well, that's possible," says Dr Jacobs. "What we see in dreams can mean a lot of things. Sheep can mean good fortune, but some people believe that black sheep represent in dreams someone close to you that you can't trust. In Scottish folklore, they represent the devil, but it might just represent that you feel like a black sheep in your family... like you don't fit in."
  "I think I can trust them, though. They lead me to the graves in the first place."
  "But, one of them bit your hand, earlier. Isn't that a sign of aggression?"
  "I don't know, I, uh..." I look at my hands again. "Wait, how did you know it bit my hand?"
  "Because you told me about that before."
  "Before what?" I say. "That was the same dream."
  "No, that was on Tuesday, Bianca."
  "It is Tuesday!" I say, annoyed.
  "No, Bianca. It's Thursday, your follow-up appointment. I think your memory problems are getting worse. You've been awake for seven days, now."
  "No no no... no, that's impossible, I've only been awake for five days."
  "But, your appointment is on Thursday. If it was still Tuesday, then why are you in my office?"
  "Because this isn't real... this is a dream," I say.
  "No, Bianca, we talked about this."
  "No, we didn't! I never talked to you about my dreams!"
  "You did, Bianca, you just don't remember..." says Dr Jacobs, with a look of concern. "I know this is confusing, honey. Try to remember. But, it's okay if you can't."
I put both my hands on either side of my head. I feel so tired... what's going on?
  "This can't be real... how can I forget two whole days?"
  "It's been known to happen."
  "But then, when was I dreaming? And, how did you know about the black sheep?"
  "You mentioned you first started seeing black sheep, in your first session," says Dr Jacobs.
  "My first session?"
  "Yes, last Friday." says Dr Jacobs.
  "My last..." I try to remember. "No... no, you're lying. I didn't see black sheep until the next day, after I tried the meditation!"
  "No, I'm not confused. This... this is a dream. Nothing else makes sense."
Dr Jacobs sighs.
  "Alright, let's say for just a moment that this is a dream. Then what?"
  "Well, then, I should wake up," I say.
  "And how are you going to do that?" asks Dr Jacobs.
  "I don't know," I say. "Usually, something comes and grabs me."
  "Well, nobody is going to come grab you in here," says Dr Jacobs. "Like I said in our first session, this is a safe place. Nobody is allowed in here, without my say so."
  "Okay..." I say. "Well, how can I wake up?"
  "Bianca, why would you want to wake up? You haven't slept in a week. If this truly was a dream, and you believe that you're asleep, shouldn't you stay asleep? Wouldn't that be best for you, at this stage?"
  "No!" I say.
  "Why not?" asks Dr Jacobs. "I thought you wanted to sleep."
  "Because..." I shrug. "Because I can't tell what's real."
  "Okay, well, we talked about this... if you want to tell what's real from what's not, you need to ground yourself, meditate on this reality, in this moment in time."
  "I don't want to ground myself in this reality, I want to wake up."
  "Bianca, you're not asleep."
  "Doctor, you told me that it's up to me what my goal is in therapy, right?"
  "Yes..." says Dr Jacobs, frowning. "That is true."
  "Well, my goal is to wake up."
Dr Jacobs sighs.
  "Okay... well, it's goot to have a firm goal. But it should also be achievable."
  "Then let's say this is a dream. How do I wake up?"
  "Well, if you were sleeping, I know of three ways that you can wake up from a dream. But I should say, this isn't psychiatry, we're talking about lucid dreaming, here."
  "Okay, well, how do I wake up?"
  "Well, some people try reading," says Dr Jacobs
  "Reading what?"
  "Anything. If you're dreaming, then it's more difficult to read, because your mind has to write the words and read them at the same time, even though the speech centres of your brain are switched off. But, reading can sometimes turn it back on, and that wakes you up."
  "Okay, do you have a book I can read?" I ask.
Dr Jacobs takes one of the books from her desk and hands it to me. It's a book about something called 'cognitive behavioural therapy'. I open to a random page and read the words. It's pretty dry, but I can read most of the words fine, so long as they're not big, sciencey words.
  "Okay, that didn't work. What else?" I say.
  "Well, some people pinch themselves," says Dr Jacobs.
I grab some skin on my forearm between my fingers and squeeze.
  "Ow! Shit... that hurt."
  "Well, of course it hurt... this is real, Bianca! Please, I don't want you to hurt yourself."
  "What's the third one?" I say.
  "Blink," says Dr Jacobs, with an exasperated sigh.
  "Blink?" I say. I blink my eyes a few times.
  "No, you have to really shut your eyes tight," says Dr Jacobs. "See, when we're asleep, our eyes are closed. Most people don't blink in dreams at all. But, if you shut your eyes tight, then open them, it can force your body to open your actual eyes."
  "Okay," I say, closing my eyes tight. I squeeze them shut.
  "Bianca, I think it's time you admitted to yourself that this isn't a dream," says Dr Jacobs. "I know you've gone through a lot, in the past week, but-"
I open my eyes. I'm staring at the ceiling, which is being lit by the sun streaming in through the window. I try to sit up, but I still feel a but fuzzy from the dream. I slowly push myself up against the headboard, and look at the window. The curtains are open, but there's a thin, white, lacy curtain, letting light spill into the room. I hear a familiar, soft ticking sound. It takes me a second to realize that it's a grandfather clock, like in my grandmother's house.
  "Grammy...?" I say, but my throat is so dry, it sounds like a whisper. I roll my tongue around my mouth and swallow. "Grammy?"
After a few seconds, I head footsteps on the other side of the wall. A door off to the side opens, and I see Grammy come in, her dark hair hanging around her shoulders, over her white blouse.
  "Bianca, you're awake?" she says.
  "Yeah," I say. "How long was I asleep?"
  "Three days," says Grammy. "I was worried after the last time you woke up, how are you feeling?"
  "I'm okay... my throat's a little dry," I say.
  "I'll get you a cup of herbal tea," says Grammy. "Wait here."
She stands up and heads out of the room, walking past the tall post on the corner of the bed. It's then that I realize I'm in a big, old-fashioned bed, with four tall poles on each corner, and I'm covered with a lush, warm blanket, cream-coloured with pink flowers patterned all over it. After a minute, Grammy comes back with a cup and saucer.
  "Here you are, dear. Drink up," she says. I shakily take the cup and saucer, and take a sip. It's very sweet, but it's warm and helps wet my dry throat, so I gulp a mouthful.
  "Thank you," I say.
Granny takes the cup from me, and places it on the wooden, bedside table.
  "Where am I?" I ask.
  "This is my guest room," says Grammy.
  "It looks just like my dream," I say.
  "What dream?" asks Grammy.
  "It was weird..." I say. "I couldn't sleep for days, because I'd had this nightmare that this dark figure, a reaper, came and strangled me in my dreams. It was in a room just like this."
  "I am sorry about that," says Grammy.
  "It's not your fault," I say.
  "I'm afraid it is, my dear," says Grammy. "The last time you got out of bed, I panicked. I had to stop you. So, I strangled you, until you fell unconscious."
  "What?" I say, giggling. "What are you talking about?"
Grammy's face looks stone-cold serious.
  "I couldn't let you leave, after all this time..." says Granny. "But I'm sorry that I had to choke you. That must have been terrifying."
  "But you..." I lift my arm to point at her, but my hand weakly falls on the bed and shivers. "What's happening?"
  "Good, the tea is working," says Grammy. "If you're paralyzed, hopefully you won't go waking up anymore."
  "Paralyzed? But, I have to go home."
  "This is your home." says Grammy. "You've lived with me for ten years now. After I killed your parents..."
I feel a cold shiver down my spine.
  "Buh... why?" I stammer. As I speak, my mouth is starting to go numb, and I can barely move.
  "When I killed your grandfather, it was a mercy. Alzheimer's - terrible way to die - so I saved him from those last few years of misery, and took them for myself," says Granny, pulling me down into bed like a ragdoll, and tucking me under the covers. "There we are... but, I didn't know that along with his life, I'd taken his death as well. I started to lose my memory. So, I was forced to kill Rachel, take her years, to put off that death for a while. But, I was still losing my mind. Magic is a fickle thing, child..."
As she fluffs up my pillow and fixes my hair, I feel her cold, thin fingers on my face, and as she leans over me, I see the shadow of her hair against the sunlight, it looks like a black hood... it really was her. She was the reaper I saw, in my nightmare. You've already lost your mind... I want to say - but I can't. I can't speak. I can't move my mouth.
  "I realized that the only way to slow the disease wasn't just to take years from someone's life, but their life force, and their mind as well. Your father tried to stop me... he died slowly."
I want to scream, I want to jump out of bed, slap her and run out of this house, but my body won't co-operate. I'm as stiff as a corpse. My grandmother keeps talking, enjoying her captive audience.
  "I'm sorry to do this to you, but I had no other choice," says Grammy. "But don't worry, I won't strangle you again. I truly am sorry about that. This time I'll do the spell properly. I promise, this time the dream will seem as real as before. Now, close your eyes..."
I stare at her, stunned. Frozen still, and terrified.
  "Oh, sorry, I forgot. Paralyzed - you can't blink..." says Grammy. she touches my face with a cold hand, and pushes my eyelids closed. "Goodnight, Bianca. Sweet dreams..."

THE END

Things that Somehow Exist

If you haven't heard of the "Mandela Effect" before, allow me to ruin your day. It all started when a single woman misremembered that Nelson Mandela died in prison in the 80s - even though he never did, and in reality, served as the African President 14 years later. Side-stepping the fact that an American, white woman isn't well-versed in African history (what a shock!) what followed is that rather than accept the fact that this is a false memory, something which happens all the time, because human minds are a confusing and complicated mess, which is prone to making mistakes sometimes - she assumed that rather than HER being wrong, REALITY was wrong, and she must have existed in a parallel universe where her memories are *totally correct, you guys!*
And now, there are groups of people who believe, without evidence, understanding or proof, that when they remember something that isn't true, or discover evidence that someone else makes a similar mistake about the past, it is ALSO evidence that they are just as super/special/awesome, and must also be dimensional sliders or mandelites or chosen ones in the matrix or whatever other nonsense they choose to believe to explain simple spelling errors.
And yes, the effect is named for Mandela, but most of these "false memories" don't involve influential historical figures so much as misremembering how to spell the names of popular cereals and children's book characters, or conflating two characters or events from pop culture.

It's a wholly uninteresting phenomenon. False memories happen all the time, for the simple fact that to save time and effort, your brain takes shortcuts to remember things, remembering them only partially or vaguely, and often doesn't bother to remember things that don't hold any significance to you.
So, why am I even talking about it? Well, that sense of feeling like reality is playing a trick on you, I can definitely understand that. I'm not foolish enough to believe that my false memories are true... but what about the opposite?

In my opinion, there's a much more interesting phenomenon, known as jamais vu. It's a french term which literally means "never seen", and the phenomenon is that exact feeling, it's remembering something, but feeling like it is unique and new, even though you have some vague experience of it. That's why I think of it as the opposite of the mandela affect - rather than believing a memory that's false, it's disbelieving a memory that is true. Of course, I don't believe this is proof that I'm actually from a superior reality, but it is still a strange phenomenon, depending on the kind of things you remember...
The reason it fits with this theme of "dreams" is because, to me, it feels a lot like remembering a dream. Like, say you have some vague memory of walking down a pier at night, but you've never lived near the coast you've only ever been to the beach during the day, so what was that memory? Is it real, or just something you remember from a dream? I'm sure this is rather common, as this is somewhat related to the pop culture phenomenon of "Lost Media". You may have heard of some common ones, like Clock Man. But, the things I'm talking about aren't so much lost, as merely half-forgotten - so today I want to present to you my list of five things that I didn't think were real... but which actually exist.

THE AWN's TOP 10 THINGS THAT (SOMEHOW) EXIST

10. The Land of Pleasant Dreams
Look, this was just a kid's show. I get that, it was a kid's show, and some kids shows are weird. But, the reason why this is on the list is because I totally forgot about it, until a few years ago, when I was working on my "Childhood Trauma" video, for Halloween Countdown 2019 (here's a link to Part 2 as well) I won't spoil some of the other media on that list, but I remembered this show, because it was also one of the shows that my parents owned on VHS which I watched a few times, and it was a little creepy because of the puppets, but unlike the other items I included on that list, it wasn't actually all that scary. I mean, I thought the grandma character that introduced the stories was a little creepy, although not enough to make the list.
But, that's to be expected, puppetry is always a little creepy. But, this show was incredibly weird. See, the gimmick is that this is a series of adventures about children who go to sleep and in their dreams they encounter interesting adventures in a weird world made of blankets and stuffed toys. The idea was that the show taught some simple morals, and sometimes included songs and stuff.
After doing some research, I actually found a few episodes on YouTube - and even saw some of the ones that were on our old VHS tape! "The Dog that was Too Fast" & "A Fence Too High" - there was also one about a horse that I wasn't able to find... I think it was walking backwards or something? I don't know.
Y'know, this is why this one is so low on the list - it's a weird kid's show and it's about dreaming, so it's inherently surreal - of course this one feels kind of dream-like. Even the music is often soft, using buzzy synth, I even wonder if this show was designed to help kids fall asleep. I mean, based on the musical sections where the character's sing, and the fact that the moral is at the very end of the episode, means that that's probably not the case, but the cliched songs and dreamy quality made me forget this one.

9. The One
Admittedly, this isn't as old as some of the other items on this list, as it's from 2008, but it's still something which I forgot existed, until I was working on this list. But, this was a television show, which was advertised as a world-changing phenomenon. Now, I never watched the show, I want to make that clear, I never actually saw any of the episodes. But... I saw the advertising that first introduced it, the more I think about it, the less sense it makes. Let's start with the title. Firstly whilst the show was advertised as The One, the full title was "The One: The Search for Australia's Most Gifted Psychic"...
I think that might explain every problem I have with this. I mean, sure, the idea was simple - this was a competitive reality show, wherein several self-professed psychics took part in a variety of contests and challenges to see which one was the most psychic. Now, to me, this is a pretty funny concept, because the reality is that nobody is psychic, so we're basically watching a collection of con artists or self-delusional idiots trying their hardest to keep their game face on, when being called out on their bullshit.
But see, I'm not here to debunk the show, because others have already done so very effectively. Rather, I remembered this show, but it just doesn't seem real... it doesn't seem like something that actually happened. See, let me explain... what makes this show seem weird and unreal to me is that it wasn't about calling them on their bullshit at all, it wasn't testing the veracity of psychic abilities - the show assumes that psychic powers exist, and even claims that the seven psychics chosen were "the top psychics in Australia". The goal of the show was to find out which of the contestants was the best. From all the advertising I saw, the tests weren't attempting to debunk, or even challenge these psychics - they were designed to let psychics perform a series of commonplace psychic tricks. From what I can tell on the Wikipedia page, this included dowsing; mediumship; mind-reading; psychometry; remote-viewing and the kind of thing which psychics have been claiming to do for years, and almost every episode included cold-reading of an audience, which is a well-understood parlour trick. Obviously, some of the people involved in this show must have known that psychic powers are a scam, since it was edited and marketed to promote the successes of the psychics, and downplay their failures, but I don't understand how you can go through the process of hiring a host, a set designer, a casting director - doing the casting call, and "testing" hundreds of applicants, how can all of that happen, and at no point in the whole process did someone come up and say "hey, uh... does nobody realize that this all bullshit? What the fuck are we doing?" - it boggles my mind, but trust me... this happened. not only that, apparently it had a second season three years later, in 2011, but it wasn't promoted anywhere near as hard (I guess because we'd already tested the "top 7" psychics, so obviously these psychics must have been sub-par). So, if I had a dollar for every time Channel 7 Australia hosted a reality show to try to find the best psychic in the country... well, I'd only have two dollars, but it is weird that it happened twice, right?

8. The Top's Dragon Coaster
This one is, admittedly, a little bit personal, since I used to live in Queensland, in and around the Brisbane CBD. When I was older, and lived on Queen Street, I would occasionally go shopping and check out the city, and I would often go to the Myer Centre, as it was one of the biggest places - four levels of retail, it was a lot of fun to shop there. But, one time a few year s ago when I was visiting the cinema, I had a weird recollection. See, the cinema is on the top floor, and I was looking over the edge of the balcony, I remember that the place looked familiar... specifically, there was a design on the roof that I remembered seeing "up close", but that's ridiculous, after all, that was far past the balcony of the fourth-floor, overlooking a drop to the food court down the bottom... to see that up close, I'd have to be flying. But the more I thought about it, the more I realized that yeah, I had seen it up close - because I remembered riding a rollercoaster inside the building.
It sounded silly, but the more I thought about it, the more I remembered that when I was younger I had once ridden on a dragon rollercoaster inside the building - and I even remember that as a kid, I called it the remote-control dragon. I assume I must have asked my father how they drove it, since it doesn't have a driver, and I guess he said it was "remote controlled", so I just called it the remote-control dragon (Either that or I was a dumb kid, and I assumed that everything electronic was remote-controlled). But it wasn't called the Remote Controlled Dragon, I don't know if it had a name, but most people called it the Dragon Coaster. Apparently, there was a whole amusement park called "Top's", with carousels, little rides and an arcade - but I only remembered the roller coaster. The crazy part about this is, I've seen it after the fact - a few years after this moment that revived my memory, I saw the train sitting on the grass at some local markets. The rails were dismantled, but the dragon train had been converted into a "ride-on train", as they'd put some wheels on it, but it was the same dragon, because it was the same colour (if a bit faded, from sunlight), and still had that distinct "double-tail", but it was in one complete piece. I assume they would take kids for little rides around the empty car park near the markets, but I don't know if it's still around.
It's stuff like this which will always make childhood seem more whimsical to me. Book fairs with colourful puppets; getting a CD that took you to a website for kids & rollercoasters inside shopping centres...

7. 2003, "the Year of Australian Sketch Comedy"
I mean, the title kind of says it all, but what is weird is that this kind of exploded into (Australian) pop culture, and then disappeared. See, in Australia, there are basically 3 big television channels, 7, 9 & 10 (Don't ask me what happened to Channel 8, because I have no idea). There's also ABC, often on Channel 2, which I believe is partially subsidized by the government but beyond those major channels and some public access channels (like Briz31, that's one I know), these were the major telly channels. And for some reason, in 2003, every single television channel decided that sketch comedy was the must-have program on the broadcasting schedule... and in 2004, every single television channel decided that it wasn't anymore. Let me show you.
First, there was Channel 10, which on February 9, 2003, aired Skithouse. This was actually my favourite, since I found it to be more consistently finny. It had some comedians and television personalities which have gone on to greater things, like Peter Helliar, Corinne Grant, Tom Gleeson, Cal Wilson & the musical comedy trio Tripod. This show really enjoyed creating recurring gags and characters - I remember The Australian Fast Bowler, a superhero who solves many problems by being really good at bowling a cricket ball.
Next, there was Channel 9, which on February 19, 2003, aired Comedy Inc. hot on the heels of its competition. Whilst some of these names weren't as successful as their channel 10 counterparts, I enjoyed the hell out of Mandy McElhinney & Fiona Harris, both talented and funny, and I adore Jim Russell, not only because he was funny, but he later appeared in the show "Glitch", and he only had one scene, but he was captivating as that tragic character. Apparently what set this show apart is that it often parodied other popular shows of the time, which could be a bit hit or miss, they did original sketches too, but the parody sketches were the main gag.
Lastly, there was Channel 7 which took a whole four months before Big Bite aired in May 2003, and it was the least successful of the four. Despite this, it has a cult following, since it was the start of a lot of prominent talent like Chris Lilley, Andrew O'Keefe & Kate McCartney, who would later go on to join the Kate McKlennan to create both "The Katering Show" & "Get Krackin", each of which are fantastically funny shows.
But then, in 2004, it all ended. It started with Big Bite, as it was cancelled after just one season with just 15 episodes, concluding March 4, 2004. Skithouse was next, ending on July 28, 2004, after two seasons, with 19 episodes in total. But the last one on the rung was Comedy Inc., and this one technically lasted until 2007, with five seasons and 96 total episodes... however, in 2005, for Season 3, in an attempt to boost ratings, they changed to a later time-slot, and changing the name to "Comedy Inc.: The Late Shift". Whilst the show continued, the time-slot didn't help ratings, and it apparently changed timeslot a few times for the last three seasons, so it fell out of the zeitgeist. Meaning that the original show - the first two seasons before the time and name change - was merely two seasons long, and lasted for 30 episodes, ending in September 2004.
So, it came into our lives, and then vanished (unless you stayed up late watching Channel 7). And, it just leaves me wondering... why? Sure, I think the Big Bite was created just to cash in on the success of Comedy Inc. & Skithouse; but why were those made, at the same time? And why did they all lose popularity just as fast, after a year? It was all so fast, it feels like it happened in a dream, which is why it's on this list...

6. David Tench Tonight
Honestly, I wasn't planning on most of these being television shows, but you're more likely to understand what I'm talking about if it's something that aired on television. And, these are some of the ones that I remember the most. And when I was trying to remember things which felt unreal... well, there's nothing quite like David Tench Tonight.
See, kind of like The One, David Tench Tonight was a show from 2006 that was promoted as a television phenomenon, it was meant to be absolutely huge. They didn't even advertize exactly what it was - rather, Channel 10 did this pseudo-viral marketing campaign with just quotes about the guy, all advertised with the tagline "finally, someone real on television". I was drawn in, I wanted to see what it was all about, so I tuned into the first episode.
So, who is David Tench? Well... nobody. David Tench doesn't exist. What David Tench Tonight is is a computer-generated character, that hosts a talk show with real people using motion-capture so they're able to interact in real time with the real guest... that's it. Seriously. I remember I was watching in anticipation, but as soon as I saw what it was, I was like... "Oh, that's it?", and after the first segment, I changed the channel and never watched it again.
But, Channel 10 was all over this. in fact, the reason he was called David Tench, is because he was created by Channel Ten. David Tench was their creation, through and through, but why? David Tench was actually kind of creepy-looking. He was a computer-generated cartoon and they gave him an oversized head; but, they also gave him somewhat realistic hair and eyebrows, and an inhumanly wide mouth, so he was veering right down into the uncanny valley. The truly sad part is that David Tench was played by a real actor, named Drew Forsythe, who provided the voice and did the motion capture. He was uncredited in the show, and that's the one aspect of the show that kind of makes sense... because he wasn't real (and they never said who was responsible for the crap coming out of his mouth), they often used him to get away with making horrible jokes - in the same way that ventriloquists make their dummies say horrible things, because it's easier to handle bad jokes when they're coming from a puppet, since they're one-degree removed from reality.
But, at the same time, the problem with having your host be a fake person is that they have no inherent personality; but talk shows live and die off of the screen presence, relatability and integrity of their host... and, well, "live and die off" David Tench certainly did, because after one season of sixteen episodes, the show was cancelled. This was a bad idea, I'm afraid, and it was doomed to die, but that promotional campaign that lured people in without telling them what they were in for, is what dug the grave.

5. Truck Nuts
Does anyone else remember these? I only saw these a few times as a kid, and the first time I saw it, it made me laugh. but, the more I think about it, the less sense it makes. In case you're unaware, truck nuts were a vehicle accessory, which you attached either at the base of your vehicle's towbar, or just under the rear bumper. This novelty accessory looked like a fleshy scrotum, with two testicles, supposedly this would make it look like the testicles belonged to the car; or, in most cases, truck, as the height of a truck's chassis left enough room for the truck nuts to dangle without touching the road, and because, honestly, the same kind of toxic masculinity that leads to people purchasing unnecessary utility vehicles would also lead to them feeling like it's a good idea to display a pair of large, fake testicles.
Now, I looked this up, and I saw that there were several articles talking about the court case involving truck nuts. Several people and companies were fined or taken to court, on obscenity charges and there was a whole lot of drama about free speech laws. I think that's going a bit far - whilst I wish we could make idiocy a crime, we really shouldn't, and whilst I call this idiotic, I don't think it's obscene - I don't think any genitalia is inherently obscene. I still prefer if people stay clothed, so I can concentrate, but I don't think it's obscene to see nakedness, even if it is a fake pair of oversized testicles.
But, my real question is... who comes up with this shit? And even that question isn't an easy one to answer, as apparently several people have tried to claim that they are the inventor of truck nuts, so I can't really say who created these things, but even worse, I don't know what kind of weirdo would decide that these are such a good idea that they would purchase these, when they saw them on offer. I would understand if this was a gag gift, but no, these were purchased by car owners to put on their own vehicles. They saw it in the store, found out what it was for, laughed at it, took it to the counter, purchased it, took it home, took it out of the packaging, found out how to secure it to the back of their car, then did so, according to the instructions... and the whole time, they still thought this was funny. But, I mean, it's not that funny. I thought it was funny the first time I saw it, because I was a child and at first glance, it does look like the car has testicles. But even as a child, the next time I saw it (on a different vehicle, mind you), I was like "oh, they did that silly thing too... okay". But, maybe that's why they disappeared... maybe their moment is gone, and everyone realized that it's not a good idea to have testicles on your car. I mean, sure, they're probably around somewhere - maybe there's a small town where everyone has them. Or, more terrifying, maybe there's a warehouse full of unsold stock, waiting for someone to unearth a pallette full of deteriorating, plastic car scrotums. Honestly, this is something I wish I dreamed or made up... but no, truck nuts, too, are real.

4. Avenger Penguins
Teenaged Mutant Ninja Turtles was a huge phenomenon in the 90s. The show was massively popular, it had crazy merchandising, especially with toys and games, there was even a live-action movie, despite how difficult the puppetry was at the time (and they did a great job, all told). But, with the popularity of TMNT, there inevitably came the pretenders to the throne. I haven't watched all of these recently, but there were hundreds of shows that tried to rip-off the premise. I distinctly remember Street Sharks, Biker Mice from Mars, Battletoads & Mighty Ducks (the animated series). There were even even a few ripoffs using Australian Animals, such as Naive Inter-Dimensional Commando Koalas; Teenage Mutant Samurai Wombats; & Pre-Teen Dirty-Gene Kung-Fu Kangaroos... I promise you, I am not making any of these up, they were ripoffs of the comicbook, not the television show, but they actually existed.
But I'm not talking about comicbook ripoffs, because I never read any of these - rather, I want to talk about another television show. Because, even as a kid I could see through Biker Mice from Mars as a clear rip-off of the TMNT "heroic group of humanoid animals" thing, but most people seem to know about Biker Mice and Battletoads and Street Sharks -  I've heard other people talk about them before. But there's a show, clearly designed to rip off Teenaged Mutant Ninja Turtles, which nobody seems to talk about, but I watched a bit as a kid. It was called Avenger Penguins. This show was about motorcycle-riding penguins, who lived in a giant iceberg or something, and would fight against an evil guy called Mister Doom... using motorcycles. Maybe this was more of a rip-off of Biker Mice than the Ninja Turtles? I don't remember much about this show, except that it had penguins riding motorcycles... but, I don't understand why.
I found some of the show on YouTube, and I watched a few episodes for this blog post, and honestly, watching this show again just begs further questions! For one thing, not everyone in the show is a penguin - even the evil villain just just an ugly guy with grey skin, so I don't understand why the main characters are penguins. Also, if you watch these episodes for yourself, you'll see that this had some pretty fluid animation, and it was clearly scripted with jokes, and a simple but effective plot, so I think this had a relatively good budget for an animated show. So, although this is a TMNT cash-in, they didn't phone it in, they put real work into this show. Maybe I'll have to look into this more later, but for now, this still feels like something that couldn't have happened, even though I have proof now that it did...

3. "The Jackass Phenomenon"
I'm sure you've heard of Jackass, and to me, the show itself isn't really so weird that it's unbelievable... no, what is unbelievable to me is that this wasn't just one show, or one movie... This was five television shows, and seven spin-off shows - including a reality game show; five movies, three spin-off movies, a documentary & a videogame! And the popularity of the show influenced a lot of shows to follow, like Adrenaline Crew; Dirty Sanchez; The Dudesons; Nitro Circus; Rad Girls; the Tokyo Shock Boys & Too Stupid to Die, as well as countless YouTube "prank" channels.
And you know, despite all of this... I still don't "get" it.
I never watched the television show, I just saw the first movie, and I laughed at some of the stunts, but not all or even most of them. I mean, it's all there in the title - it's a bunch of guys acting like jackasses, but why? What is the point? Okay, let me explain where I'm coming from...
See, what truly broke my brain was the videogame Jackass: The Game. See, I do not understand the point of this show, but, in a videogame, you have to have a goal, and in some cases, a points system so you can quantify how well you're doing. So, what is the goal in the Jackass videogame? The goal is "to film a series of Jackass"... Really? Okay, that leaves me just as confused as before... but, what about the point system, though? How do I tell if I'm "filming jackass" correctly?
Well, you have to hurt yourself. In some minigames, you have to compete with one another, or do some comedy routine, but in most of the minigames, the more hurt you get, the more points you get... in some, they even display each injury you get, and you get more points depending on the severity.
Is that the entire point of Jackass? Getting the most hurt? But... no, that doesn't make sense. I don't believe that everyone who watches the show is some kind of sadomasochist, surely thousands of people don't enjoy seeing people get hurt or humiliated - I mean, this isn't meant to be BDSM, it's not pornographic it's comedic. At least, I think it's not pornographic... there's a lot of weird butt stuff, like the "Ass Rockets", and "The Butt X-ray", and then there's "Party Boy", which is just a prank where a guy strips off and dances... has anyone ever written a Jackass/Fifty Shades of Grey crossover fanfic?
But no, no, no, this is meant to be a comedy, Wikipedia even calls it "slapstick". But, slapstick is about exaggerating violence, stagefighting, prat falls and other exaggerated actions. Jackass doesn't exaggerate its violence, it just shows the results of their actions. In one scene, a boxer beats the shit out of Johnny Knoxville, and he has to get stitches. That's not funny.
I mean, for goodness sake, this was multi-million dollar franchise - I am not kidding, the first movie had a five-million dollar budget alone, and earned almost eighty million dollars. Then, it all died down, possibly because some of the actors involved died, and others went to rehab... but, why did it get so big in the first place? Did everyone in the world just lose their minds for a few years? What the hell happened? I still don't know, and that's why this is number 3 on this list.

2. Wicked Willie
When I was much younger, I'm talking single digits (and I'm 30 now, so that's over twenty years ago), my parents would take my family and me to the local library. I think this was over the school holidays or something, because every week for a few months, we went to the library and borrowed books from the library using our library cards. Occasionally I would borrow books, but I was fascinated by the videos. There was a nature video that I saw about bears... I can't remember anything about it, except that it had a bear at one point (this was a long time ago, okay?). But, there was another video I asked to borrow, because I didn't understand it at all, and I was curious as to what it would be about.
See, it was a video for a movie called "Wicked Willie - the Movie", and it was about a personified, talking penis. The conceit of the film was that it had a series of sketches, intercut with Willie doing a stand-up routine. Now, before you get any ideas, I was like 10... I wasn't trying to ogle naked people in a weird sex comedy - and second, this was a cartoon, in a simplified "Jim Davis", British newspaper comic style, so it wasn't detailed enough to be in any way erotic. Also, I didn't understand all of the jokes - I don't remember laughing once when I watched this as a kid, I was just confused.
I don't even know why my parents hired it out - even though they had to hire it out on their card, since it was R-rated (don't worry, whilst there was maybe a boob here or there, it was mostly R for "sexual references", and when the main character is a talking cock, that's kind of a given - it wasn't porn, by any metric). I assume that my parents also thought it was pretty tame, and/or, because I was that age, they thought maybe I was curious about my body... Eh...? I don't know, I didn't bother to ask them for this blog post. I guess, if I took my kid to the library, and he wanted to watch a weird movie about a talking penis, I would't prevent him from seeing it either, but it is a weird situation...
However, as weird as it is that as a kid I watched a movie about a talking penis, what truly puts this on the list, especially in the number 2 spot, is that when I remembered this thing and I looked it up to make sure it was real... it turns out that this was kind of a big deal back in the day. See, the reason this movie exists is because this originally started as a comicbook, then it had this movie, and it even had a cartoon series (banned from television for obscenity, but apparently it had over a dozen episodes), a sequel movie, and even a board game & a non-fiction book all about the phenomenon!
Unfortunately, I don't remember a single joke, except that when Willie was doing stand-up, he wore a bow-tie, and that's kind of a funny image. But, this thing - this silly cartoon from the 1980s, was so popular that it got international distribution? Yeah, did I mention that this was British? it was from the U.K., but it was popular enough to find an audience in Australia. Or, at the very least, one of its videos appeared on the rack in the library in my suburb... I don't know what to say except - yeah, this is real.

1. MOT
This may not seem that weird to you, and hey, the last two things were international phenomena, so what's this little thing? Well, the reason this is number 1 is because for the longest time, I didn't think this was real. See, for years, this was my personal Lost Media journey... for the longest time, I was trying to find out if this was real, because I wasn't sure, but the images were so distinct in my mind.
See, I had three things which I remembered very clearly:

• First of all, there was a purple dragon that could either grant wishes, or use magic - that was the main conceit of this show, a guy who had a magic, purple dragon that could grant wishes.
• Secondly, I remembered a scene where the world turned into a cube.
• Thirdly, I remembered a scene where everyone's house was hovering about a foot off the ground, but flying along at speed, and the main character had to jump from one house to another.

That's it, those are the three things I remembered - and they were connected somehow, but I didn't know how (presumably all were caused by the purple dragon's magic), but I didn't know what the show was called, what else it was about, or if maybe I had made all of this up in a dream.
But... shock of all shocks, I FOUND IT. See, I'm not crazy!
This is a show called "Mot" (I guess that's why I never remembered it - that name is ridiculous). Mot is the name of a purple monster that lives with his human friend, called Leo. The reason why Mot was called Mot is because his species is "Monstrous Organicus Telluricus" or M.O.T. for short. This species has the innate ability to open interdimensional doors. Look, okay, he's not actually a dragon, he's a monster, but he does have a dragon-like tail!  Also, he doesn't grant wishes... I think that might have happened in one of the episodes, but I'm not sure. Or maybe I'm mis-remembering a time when Leo asked him for something, and he did it for him with one of his dimension doors? Ehh...?
This was popular in the mid-to-late-90s, so that's probably why I don't remember it very well, I was pretty young at the time. It looks like a weird show, but honestly? I wish I could see it again. It looks weird, but kind of cool. Dimension-hopping monsters? Sign me up!
The problem is that the original show is French, so I don't even know if it's available on DVD - I don't even know who was responsible for the dub that I watched on television so long ago.
Whilst this media is no longer forgotten... it's still lost, to me. I'm not at the end of my Lost Media Journey, just yet. But, still, this was a really unusual show with some surreal elements, so it's no wonder that it felt more like a dream than a memory. Hell, the only reason why I thought it was real was because it's a cartoon, and I don't tend to dream in 2D animation... so who's to say how many of my other memories are actually just boring dreams?

- - -

Alright, well, that's my list, but do you have one? What are some other culture, media or phenomena which you remember, but are so unusual that it just doesn't feel real?
I admit that this is a bit of a strange concept, but I think it's fascinating. After all, they say that Truth is Stranger than Fiction, and so I find this so much more fascinating than the Mandela Effect nonsense that inspired this post, and I'm curious how many of you remember these things I'm talking about - did you find them as surreal as I did? And of course, if anyone knows where I can watch, or purchase some of these old shows (especially Mot), please get in touch.

I'm the Absurd Word Nerd, and Until Next Time, take comfort in the fact that, in the very least, I know that you exist... I mean, I think you do. You exist, right? Guys? Is somebody out there? ...hello?

Counting Black Sheep, (Phase 2)

I walk down the school hallway, feeling like some kind of zombie. My first class of the day is chemistry, with Mr Hill, and I feel like a lamb going to the slaughter... man, I really do have sheep on the brain.
The thing is, I hate science, I just don't have the brain for it, and Mr Hill is so boring. I feel like I'm going to fall asleep during science at the best of times, but after four days without sleep...
I rub at my throat as I remember the nightmare from last night. I don't want to go through that again... I can't fall asleep in class.
I head into class early and pick a seat near the back. Mr Hill usually only picks on kids at the front of the class. I sit down, and rub my eyes. My eyelids feel hot under my fingers from my dry eyes. I glance out the window, at the school oval. It seems to shine green under the bright, summer sun.
  "I hate you, sunlight..." I groan.
The bell rings, and after a minute the rest of the students pour into the classroom. Mr Hill comes in, in his usual, grey pinstripe suit. I take a book out of my  bag, and put it on my desk, to look like I'm paying attention.
  "Hello..." mumbles Mr Hill, heading over to his desk, and putting down his briefcase. "Right. So, today, I wanted to move onto the next module for organic chemistry; but first, we should pick up where we left off, and finish our lesson about sugars... so, can we please re-open our text book to page forty."
Everyone takes out their books and flips to the page, and I slowly do the same. I don't remember much from that lesson except that sugars were sweet, so I turn to the page and stare at the words without reading them. What is the point of learning all of this?
  "Harry, can you tell me, what is a monosaccharide?" Mr Hill asks, and one of the kids murmurs out an answer I can't hear, before Mr Hill writes something on the blackboard...
I wish I didn't have to go to school, I even told Dad it was pointless, but he said that "feeling tired" wasn't an excuse not to go to class. I mean, I don't see the point if I can't learn - I can barely focus on the blackboard, let alone what the teacher is saying - how can I learn anything?
Honestly, the only reason why I'm not skipping school entirely is that the thought of seeing my friends at lunch cheers me up a bit. The idea of staying home all day, alone, unable to sleep would probably drive me insane.
I look out the window, at the oval. The bright sunlight hurts my eyes, but I still think I'd be happier out there, doing laps. I've always enjoyed sport, and maybe if I could go for a run - get my blood pumping - that might keep me awake. I rub my eyes again, feeling a headache from staring at the brightness too long. I bury my head in my hands, rubbing my face, and with a sigh, look out the window again. I see red eyes staring back at me. They're all the way down on the oval, but I can see black sheep. Not just one, there's two of them. They're standing close together, and with their identical, smokey wool, it's hard to tell where one ends and the other begins, but those blazing, red eyes are unmistakeable, and I can see two pairs, looking up at me. Am I hallucinating? I rub my eyes again.
  "Bianca!" snaps Mr Hill, from the front of the classroom, and I flinch, as I open my eyes, looking at the teacher. "Perhaps you need a bit more energy, if you're having so much trouble staying awake."
  "What?" I say, confused.
  "Have you been paying attention, Miss Wardell?" asks Mr Hill.
  "Yeah," I lie. "I just thought I saw sheep..."
I look out the window. Sure enough, the sheep are still there, glaring at me.
  "Excellent," says Mr Hill. "Then, would you mind explaining the chemical process of glycolysis to the class, please?"
  "Uhh..." I look down at page forty in front of me, scanning for the word glycolysis, but I can't see it. "Glycolysis-sis-sis-sis..."
  "Bianca, come here please," says Mr Hill, he points at me, and then upturns and curls his pointer finger towards himself, beckoning me forward.
I stand up from my chair, and head for the front of the classroom, as I do, I hear some of the other kids snickering. Mr Hill points to the board. "Bianca, what is this?"
He is pointing at a chemical structure diagram.
  "Uhh... sugar?" I say.
  "Yes, this is glucose..." says Mr Hill.
  "Uh huh, okay..." I say.
Several of the other kids are giggling. I glance back at them, confused - why are they laughing at me?
  "Don't look at them, look at-" Mr Hill stops, and glances at my legs. "Bianca, where is your skirt?!"
  "Skirt?" I say, glancing down. I see bare legs, and a hint of panties. I squeak, as I grab my shirt and pull it down. What happened to my skirt?
All the kids in the class burst out laughing.
  "Bianca, this is unacceptable!" snaps Mr Hill.
What happened to my skirt? I was wearing one to school... Did it come off when I was... wait. This is a dream...
  "I must have fallen asleep..." I say,
  "Bianca, what are you talking about? Where is your clothing?"
  "This is a dream," I say.
  "Bianca, please, be serious," says Mr Hill, his face turning red with anger. "This is real, you're not dreaming."
  "I'm not..." I say, glancing around. Some of the kids are taking out their phones to take pictures. Mr Hill looks annoyed, and a little embarrassed.
  "No," says Mr Hill. "If this were a dream, I'd be doing this..."
Mister Hill takes a step closer, and grabs me by the throat.
I grab his hands, and in my fingers his warm hands grow thin and cold, as they tighten around my neck, and I can't breath. I watch as his whole body darkens, and decays into bones, and his clothing deteriorates into wispy blackened rags. His breathing gets heavy and ragged as he becomes the reaper, squeezing my airways shut. No, please, not again... Please! Not again!
I try kicking at the creature, but there's no legs under the wispy, black cloth, and it holds me up by the neck. I grab the bony arms by both wrists, and try to pull them away, but it's like they're made of stone, they won't budge.
My lungs hurt from straining to breathe against my blocked windpipe, and I see my vision fading. I gasp weakly against the choking hands, desperately trying to stay alive... but I can't breathe... I can't...
  "AAAAARGH!" I scream, jumping up from my seat. I put both my hands by my neck - the fingers are gone. I glance around the room, and see that several of the other kids are looking at me, some of them look annoyed, others look scared.
  "Bianca?" asks Mr Hill, turning away from the board. "Are you alright?"
  "Yeah, I'm... I'm alright," I stammer.
  "Are you sure?" asks Mr Hill, walking towards me. "Your eyes... you look like you haven't slept in days, girl."
  "I haven't," I say, honestly.
  "Why don't you head to the nurse's office?" says Mr Hill placing a hand on my shoulder. I flinch at his touch, and take a step back.
  "No, I, uh..." I look at Mr Hill, and his look is one of deep concern. Maybe I should go to the nurse... at least then, I won't fall asleep in his class again. I nod, and say "Okay, yeah."
I pick up my bag, and push in my chair. As I do, I glance out the window.
I don't see any black sheep.

The school nurse said I was showing clear signs of sleep deprivation. I mean, I thought that was obvious after I told her I hadn't slept in four days, so whatever. She also said I should go home and get some sleep, and even gave me a blue slip - a medical exemption - to show to the front office.
I took the slip from her, left the nurse's office, then put it in my pocket and went to the oval to run a few laps. I don't want to go home yet. I might fall asleep again. I want to sleep... God, I really just wish I could sleep, but I don't want to be left on my own. What if I fall asleep, and no one else is around to wake me up? What if I can't breathe, and no one is there?
I keep running laps, around and around, until the bell rings. I finish my twelfth lap, and head for the bubbler to get a drink before heading into the lunch room. I take three gulps of water, and stand up, but as I stand up straight I feel queasy. I put a little pressure on my chest, to try to settle my stomach, but it takes a minute before my guts stop churning. I take a few calming breaths, then pick up my bag from beside the bubblre and head into the lunch room.
As I head for my usual table, I glance at the other kids. I feel anxious, like they're all judging me. I don't want them to laugh at me again... wait, no, that didn't happen. That was a dream.
I sit down at the table, with Ruby and Anna. Ruby is a short girl, but has a big personality, and Anna has these amazing, blonde curls. I don't know where Josie and Ruth are, they usually beat me to the lunch room, but Ed and Ralph are probably getting food from the tuck shop. Boys are obsessed with food.
  "Hey, Anna; Rube," I say, sitting down.
  "Hey, Bee. How are you doing?" asks Anna.
  "Okay, I guess," I say.
  "We heard about what happened in Mister Hill's class," says Ruby. "Are you sure you're okay?"
  "You heard about that?" I ask.
  "Gossip travels fast in small towns," says Anna. "You look tired, love."
  "Olivia asked us what we knew about it, I think she's spreading it," says Ruby. "Seriously, they're saying you screamed at the teacher?"
  "I didn't scream at anyone," I say. "I just fell asleep, and I had a nightmare."
  "Was that the same nightmare as... as before?" asks Anna, leaning forward.
  "Yeah, the one I told you about on Friday."
  "What nightmare?" asks Ruby. "Why's this the first I'm hearing about this?"
  "It was Friday..." says Anna, rolling her eyes. "You were studying Friday lunch."
  "Look, it wasn't a big deal, until now," I say. "But I haven't slept since.
  "You haven't slept since Friday?" says Ruby, shocked. "That's three days."
  "Four days. It started after Thursday night," I explain. "Whenever I try to sleep, I dream about this creature trying to strangle me..."
  "And that's why you screamed at Mister Hill?" says Ruby.
  "I wasn't screaming at him!" I snap. I sigh, and rub my eyes. "I fell asleep, and it came after me again. I woke up, screaming..."
  "Jesus..." says Ruby, looking concerned. "No wonder you can't sleep..."
  "I'm telling you, it's every night-"
  "-G'day, girls," says Ed, moving to sit beside me. "What's up?"
Ralph sits across from him, on the other side of the table.
  "Bee hasn't been sleeping," says Anna.
  "You didn't sleep last night?" asks Ralph, frowning.
  "Last night, or the night before... or before," I say, looking in his eyes. "Four days, now."
He looks at me, and he looks a little shocked seeing my face, and the bags under my eyes. God... how bad must I look? Ralph has a bit of a crush on me, he has since Grade 5. If he's disturbed by my face, I must look like death warmed up...
  "Four days?" says Ed, snickering. "That's nothing... last year, I stayed up for six days, to cram for Miss Crought's Biology test."
Six days? He almost sounds proud of himself...
  "What the fuck is wrong with you?" I say. The others at the table stare at me, but I am glaring at Ed.
  "What?" says Ed, smirking.
  "'I stayed up six days...' Do you think this is a game?"
  "Hey, calm down. I was just sayin'."
  "Just SAYING?!" I yell, standing up. "Don't tell me to calm down - do you think I'm doing this on purpose?! Do you think this is fun for me?"
  "Bianca, he didn't mean it like that?" offers Ralph.
  "Didn't mean..." I slam both my fists into the table. "I can't SLEEP Ed! Do you think I want to stay awake for four nights? Six nights? Ten?! Let's see how much longer Bianca can stay awake until she loses her god-damned mind!"
Ed looks scared down at the table. That's when I realize I'm standing up.
I look around and realize the girls are looking up at me, a mixture of shock and concern. Then I turn around, and see that a few of the other kids are looking over at me as well.
  "This was a bad idea..." I say, rubbing my eyes.
  "Bee, I'm sorry," says Ed.
  "DON'T... Just, don't." I say, stepping out from behind the table.
I grab my bag and head for the lunch room exit. I don't look back. I don't need to see more concerned, judging faces.

I showed the blue slip to the front desk, and went to the bus stop. As I waited at the bus stop, I took my lunch box out of my bag, and bit into the vegemite sandwich Dad made for me. It tasted good, but when I swallowed it, that same queasiness from before came back, and I felt like I was about to throw up. I put my sandwich away, and sat there rubbing my stomach.
After the bus came, I went to sit in my seat, but the queasiness wasn't going away. I had to stand up, because the rattling of the bus felt like it was going to shake the sandwich back up and out of my throat. So, I held onto the passenger strap for the whole ride home.
I can't sleep, and now I can't even eat... how am I supposed to survive if I can't eat?

When I got home, the first thing I did was go to the phone and call Dr Jacobs. I recognize the voice of the receptionist.
  "Hollow Falls Psychiatric, this is Irene. How can I help you today?"
  "I'd like to talk to Dr Jacobs, please. She said I could talk to her?"
  "Of course, can I ask who's calling?"
  "Bianca Wardell."
I hear her humming to herself for a second.
  "Okay, I'll just pop you on hold for a moment, while I go get her."
Immediately, I hear crackly electro-jazz music playing. I grab a kitchen chair, bring it closer to the landline, and sit down as I wait.
The wait probably only takes two minutes, but with my racing heart, and the feeling of half-chewed sandwich sitting in my throat, it feels like hours.
  "Hello, Bianca?" says Dr Jacob's familiar, American accent.
  "Hey, Doctor Jacobs. This is Bianca," I say, with a sigh of relief.
  "Okay, what's the matter?" she asks.
  "I didn't sleep last night," I say. "And I've been... all day, I've been off. I've been seeing sheep. And, I screamed at a teacher, and now I can't keep any food down. Everything I eat, I feel like I'm going to throw up - even water."
  "Okay, it's okay. Have you been doing your meditation?"
  "Yeah, I tried it last night, but it didn't work. I still had a nightmare."
  "Do you remember what I said yesterday? You shouldn't wait until you're panicking before you work on self-care. The trick is to identify triggers before, you panic, and look out for signs within yourself. It's good to meditate throughout the day."
Did she say that? I think she did, but I don't remember...
  "No, I haven't been meditating. I should do that- I'll do that when I hang up. But, Doctor, I can't eat. I don't know what to do."
  "That's probably nausea," she says. "When you don't sleep, it messes up your body chemistry - basically, your stomach is asleep so it's causing indigestion. Make sure you eat bland food - dry toast, crackers, mashed potato. Avoid grease, sugar and spices, they'll just upset your stomach more. And try drinking tea without milk - do you like tea?"
  "Uh, I don't know..." I say.
  "Well, warm tea, no sugar, might settle your stomach. If that doesn't help, you should call a doctor."
  "...aren't you a doctor?" I say.
  "Of course, but I'm a psychologist, honey. You need a G.P. if you have an issue with your digestion."
  "Oh, okay... okay," I say. "But, doctor... I still couldn't sleep."
  "It can take time, Bianca. Your brain is panicking as a reflex, you have to train it to settle, so it doesn't flare up with the drop in cortisol before bed... but you should try to get some sleep now, if you can, okay? Now, I should get back to my other patient, is there anything else?"
She's with another patient? I guess that makes sense, but now I feel bad... I don't want to make someone else wait, just for me.
  "Uh... I don't..." I stammer. "My Dad isn't home yet, and I don't want to sleep..."
  "Why not?" asks Dr Jacobs.
  "What if I die in my sleep?" I say. "There's no one to... wake me up."
  "You won't die in your sleep, Bianca," says Dr Jacobs. "You said it yourself, you don't have sleep apnea, you don't even snore. It's all in your head."
  "Okay..." I say. "Okay, I'll try. Goodbye, doctor."
  "Alright, I'll see you for your Thursday session. Bye, Bianca."
Dr Jacobs hangs up the phone, and I stand up.

I find some potato chips in the pantry - original flavour, just salted - and eat them slowly. Each mouthful seems to sit in my throat, threatening to come back up, but after a minute, it seems to go away... it sucks, but at least it doesn't last for as long as it did before.
Then, I head for my room, and sit on the edge of my bed. Dr Jacobs is right, I need to sleep even if I'm alone in the house. It's all in my head... I just need to relax. I put some notes in the dream journal, about how I'm feeling. More tired. More stressed. Nauseous.
I don't bother taking off my school uniform, I just lay down on the bed, staring at the ceiling. All the lights are off, but the daylight still brightens up my room. I ignore it, and close my eyes. I decide to try some belly breathing... I place my hands on my stomach so my fingers touch, and take a deep breath, pushing with my diaphram, and trying to fill my lungs all the way to the bottom. The full breathe makes my stomach bulge a little so my fingers separate - like Dr Jacobs showed me - then I exhale slowly. With this exercise, you don't have to empty your lungs, you can breathe out normally, which is a little comforting. It's just about getting as much oxygen as you can. When you panic, shallow breathing makes your heart race, so the deep, belly breaths are meant to give you a good dose of oxygen, so your heart can beat slow and easy.
I take three deep, belly-breaths, then place a hand over my heart. It's beating slower. Thump-thump... thump-thump...
I should try some of the grounding exercises she showed me, to calm my mind. There was one she called The Countdown... I need to identify five things I can hear, four I can feel, three I hear, two I smell, one I taste... it's meant to anchor me to the present moment. The taste one is hard, but she said I can think of my favourite food...
One... my ceiling, lit by the sunlight. I sit up in bed.
Two... my dream journal on the table beside my...
Three... three black sheep.
In the doorway of my bedroom, I see sheep, their dark faces looking at me with those fiery, red eyes. I blink my eyes, and rub them, but the sheep are still there. I know I'm hallucinating, sheep don't have glowing eyes like that, but this is a persistent hallucination...
  "Go away," I say. "You're not real..."
One of the sheep is chewing idly as it stares at me, but the other two just stand there. I notice that the one nearest to me has two, dark horns on either side of its face, it must be a ram. I hear one of the sheep behind it snort.
  "I said, go away!" I say, getting out of bed. "You're a hallucination!"
I step closer, I can see the smokey wool on them, and they all look up to follow me with their crimson gaze. I notice some twigs caught in their coats, and dirt on their cloven hooves as I get closer. They look so real...
But no, no, they're not real, how could they have gotten in the house?
I step forward, and push the sheep nearest me - yuck, The wool is warm, and slightly oily in my fingers. Brrehrrr bleats the ram.
  "Get out of my house! - out of my head!" I yell. I move to shove the ram again, but it wrenches its head around, and bites my hand.
  "Aaagh!" I yell out in pain as the teeth dig into my skin.The sheep steps back, and lets go, and I stumble backwards, and trip over.

"Woah!" I call out, throwing my arms out. My hand smacks against my bedside lamp, tipping it over, and I glance around the dark.
  "What?" I mumble, blinking. It's dark, and I'm... I'm in bed? I sit up in bed, and look at the doorway of my room. In the skewed light of my bedside lamp, I can see there's no sheep. It wasn't a hallucination, it was a dream. I sigh, rubbing my eyes. I still feel tired, but it's dark, I must have slept for several hours... That's good, right?
I smile to myself, as I reach over and grab my lamp, turning it back upright. As I squeeze my hand around the stem, my hand hurts. I must have smacked it against the lamp pretty hard.
  "Ouch," I hiss, bringing my hand closer to my face. Sure enough there's a fast-swelling, dark mark on the back of my hand. I feel my whole hand throbbing as I watch as the blood rush under my skin, into an odd, crescent-moon shape. I wonder why it left such a weird mark, but then I see blood drip from my hand, and hear the light pay of blood dripping onto the soft blankets.
  "Oh, damn..." I say, putting my other hand under it. I didn't think it was bleeding. I see more blood drip from my hand. Huh, that's weird, it's not coming from the mark on the back of my hand...
I turn my hand over, and I see a nasty cut on my palm, it's the same shape as the other side, a mirror image, but deep enough to tear the skin. It looks just like a bite mark, just like where the sheep...
No, no, that's impossible, that was a dream.
I watch as a rivulet of blood trickles down my wrist from my upturned palm. But that's impossible... isn't it?

All Just a Dream... Sequence

There's no place like home... there's no place... Oh, it's you! That's funny, I just had the strangest dream. And you were there, and you were there, and you... well, no, not you, I don't like you. But most of you were there, and it was a beautiful place. Well, most of it was beautiful, but some of it wasn't very nice...

The part that I hated was that every movie ended with the reveal that it was all a dream. It made art seem an extra degree removed from relevance, so it was harder to engage with the plot.

Fiction is already fake, we know it's fake, but we set that aside when reading. However, it's a delicate balance (although some people are more willing to suspend their disbelief further than others). So, I don't know why stories go that extra step of saying that the fiction was fake.
You're telling me that the thing that I already know didn't happen, didn't even happen in the story? In a long series, sometimes this is done to maintain the structure of the continuity, and avoid the consequences... but if the dream (or virtual reality simulation, or vision quest, or story-within-a-story) doesn't have any consequences on the overall plot, then why waste time with it at all? Sure, some stories have character development, or someone changes drastically, or "doesn't wake up", or we learn that one of the people was fake, or some other cool thing that affects the story as a whole - that's awesome. But, unless you can come up with a real good reason to make the whole thing a dream, I think it's a bad idea. I once abandoned a story idea for a series, where it was all a dream, because I felt like it wasn't fair to the reader to have them buy a whole book that was all just a dream.

But, y'know, now that I'm awake, as much as I hate those kinds of endings, that's all I have to really say about it. But, there's another thing that been bothering me about dreams in stories. I understand why people like dreams in stories. You can get some insight as to how a character thinks, you can have some magical or prophetic vision to move the story forward or you can represent trauma with their nightmares. Sure, there are also some writers that abuse dream sequences for dumb fake-outs, jumpscares, or just the spectacle of weird or surreal imagery... those are some downsides, but either way, there are enough upsides to justify dreams in fiction.
But, how do you represent a dream in a story? In a story where it was All Just A Dream, the dream reveal is usually a twist, so the story is written pretty realistically, to try to hide the twist from the reader. Like, in The Wizard of Oz, a story famous (or, infamous, depending on who you're talking to) for its ending - I even paid satirical homage to it at the top of this post - and in that story it's all a dream in the end, but that was arguably foreshadowed by the existence of witches, munchkins, talking scarecrows and magic in the story. Or, there was a really, really bad movie I saw earlier this year... and I'm about to give MASSIVE SPOILERS for Stay, the 2005 Ewan McGregor, Ryan Gosling movie - but, in that movie, the whole plot turns out to be the coma-dream, or dying vision, or something of a character who dies in a car crash; but, several times through the movie there's just bad editing, flicking from one angle to another mid-dialogue, and that was supposedly done to foreshadow that it was a dream. Also, the main character always wears trousers that are too short because - and I'm not making this up - when the dying guy looked up at him from the road, he could see his socks, so that's how he always imagined him... what? You might think that's kind of interesting, but personally I think it's really stupid. Now, I admit that this is meant to be some kind of dying vision or something, so it's not the same as a dream, but my problem is that, it still doesn't feel right to me. I haven't died before, but for some reason, I don't think think "jarring editing" represents how that would feel. - END OF SPOILERS - for that, but honestly, it's a bad movie, I recommend you don't watch it. But with both of these movies because the surreal quality was the twist, it just rubs me the wrong way, even if they tried to foreshadow it.

See, there is a fundamental issue with dreams in fiction, and it is that when we dream, we're asleep. I mean, that's a given, but my point is that when we're asleep our brain isn't as active, so we're not as rational, or perceptive.
This means that you can be going back to your old primary school, or walking underwater, or even flying and it doesn't seem at all unusual - in essence, one of the symptoms of dreaming is chronic suspension of disbelief.
But its not just the experience of dreams that's a little odd but also the look and feel. In dreams, because you're asleep (and because your brain uses a lot of shortcuts to conserve energy and effort), your brain often doesn't recreate things "fully". For instance, your language centres are usually inactive when you're asleep, which is why people don't speak properly, and why it's often difficult to read books or any written words - or, if you can read, if you look away from written words then look back, the words often change. Also, because your motor cortex has been disabled, movement can feel restricted or floaty, like you're underwater. Also, because the hippocampus plays a role when you're asleep, making it harder to recall finer details, some things in dreams can be incomplete, fuzzy or barebones.

This can be an issue when it comes to fiction, since if you try to do all of that in a book or a movie, the audience can't suspend their disbelief that far - because they're awake - and especially if you're going for an "all just a dream" twist you can't make dreams feel too dreamlike, or it will either be blatantly obvious that it's a dream, or it will confuse the hell out of your reader.

Now, I have some seen some interesting stories that play into the weirdness of dreams for their plot. I call these metadream sequences, wherein the dreamer is aware that they're in a dream... I suppose you could call these "lucid dream sequences", but I don't, and it's my blog post so... pbbt.
For one example, you need look no further than House, especially the Season 4 finale two-parter "House's Head"/"Wilson's Heart" - in this story, brain trauma causes Dr Gregory House to forget some vital clue in a medical mystery, so he dreams, hallucinates and even hypnotizes himself to search his mind for the clue. In the episode, House indulges in fantasies, blurry visions and mind games to show that he is dreaming as well as the flaws in his memory and way his mind manifests his obsession with puzzle-solving. There are some brilliant uses of lighting and cinematography in this episode. I especially love that he has several dream sequences in a bus - as he had a bus crash, causing his brain trauma - and as he's on the empty bus, there are patterns of rolling light past the windows, since he would most distinctly remember the bus when it was moving, but the bus is empty, and there's nothing visible outside. It's a pretty cool effect, and I think it does a great job of creating that dreamlike quality.
Or, for another example, there's a cool dream sequence in The Wild Thornberrys Movie that serves as the call to adventure. The dream is amazingly trippy and surreal. Eliza sees the lost cheetah cub, Tally, in her dream, floating as if in water. Then, at the top of a pile of rocks, Shaman Mnyambo appears in the form of a talking tree. The sequence perfectly recreates the floaty feeling of a dream.
In fact, this sequence is what first opened my eyes to the many possible ways that people can represent dreams in media.
I'd seen my fair share of dream sequences in television shows, but because they have to manage a limited budget, most shows just reuse the main set (or animation frame), and just start and end the sequence with a wobbly screen transition, and harp music. Seeing something that tried to make a dream look like a dream?

Now these are all movies, but I write my stories... and when it comes to literature, there are advantages and disadvantages when it comes to dream sequences, and both are due to the facets of the medium itself. Namely, when reading a book, all of the imagery, characters and scenery are being composed in the reader's mental theatre - pieced together by their own mental props. So, if you say "Stacey was standing in her high-school", then even if you don't describe anything else, the reader will imagine some vague "high-school" either like their own, or one they've seen in media. This is the same sort of thing your brain does when you dream, so you can make a scene feel dreamy just by these kinds of vagueries.
However, the big disadvantage is due to the same issue. If you want the main character to encounter a clown-faced cockroach with chainsaw-claws for hands, well, you're forcing the reader's "mental costume designer" to build this thing from scratch. And that's just a monster, what if you want them to be in a school, which is furnished with the desk, bed and cupboards from their childhood bedroom? If this was a movie, you could just do that, but for a book, you can't get away with that without telling the reader to imagine it first - hiring their "mental propmaster" to do it for you - so, it's a lot harder to sneak in surreal stuff. It's still sort of possible, but it takes a lot more effort, and it's rife with potential for sustainment of disbelief, which will take your reader out of the story.

Unfortunately, the most common example I've seen of dream sequences in fiction stem from Goosebumps books. Goosebumps books love using dream sequences for cheap fake-out scares, and false starts. There's a lot of Goosebumps books which start with a nightmare sequence, just to confuse you. Ironically, even though there's a book called "Don't Go To Sleep!", the story with the most dream sequences is apparently "Monster Blood II", even starting off with a two dream sequences, back to back. The entire first chapter is a dream, meaning the introduction to this book never happened, and the second chapter ends with a daydream sequence. That's right, an imagine spot, which only exists to make the chapter cliff-hanger more suspenseful, but just seems lame, and makes me a little concerned about this kid, since it features animal abuse. The first chapter uses the same trick as The Wizard of Oz, capitalizing on the fantastical aspects of the story - the first chapter has Evan Ross dealing with his monsterfied pet dog, after it ate monster blood. You can see how that might be a believable opening in a Monster Blood sequel...
So, in a sense, it's a good and a bad example of how to do a nightmare sequence since it's clearly surreal, yet the reader might believe it's happening, making it a good "dream"; but, it makes the story worse, since your first line is the initial handshake you have with your reader, the greeting that can help define your relationship. If the first line - let alone the first whole chapter - is all a pointless dream sequence for an unearned scare? What does that say about the way you treat your audience? To me, it says you're willing to waste their time to scare them, rather than use your own time to earn that emotional response, and develop a good story.
But hey, how about another example - this time, a good one. I'm a big fan of the Wardstone Chronicles books (also called the Spook's Books, because of the titling conceit), and in the first book, there is a minor, but fascinating plot point about knowing when you're dreaming, and when you're awake. The first book, "The Spook's Apprentice" is about an apprentice monster-hunter (called a Spook), learning the tricks of the monster-hunting trade, especially witches. It may, or may not, have partially inspired my own Hunter's Guide to Monsters series... In the book, one of the lessons Tom must learn is the difference between waking and dreaming, because some subtle magics can trick you into dreaming while awake - seeing things that aren't there. There's even a moment in the book where Tom, the main character, is being tormented by a monster, and has to wake up before he can escape. I won't spoil the moment, but I think it's very well done, and the important thing is - because the nightmare is caused by magic, and the main character has to wake up so he can escape, the entire dream helps move the plot forward. That's the hardest thing with dream sequences...

But, even in these literary examples, whilst fantasy and horror stories with speculative fiction elements can have monsters and madness happen - and due to genre conventions, it doesn't seem out of place - they can toy with surreality, but they're still not quite right, are they? The reason I enjoyed the example from The Wild Thornberrys is because it felt dreamy, floaty, flowing in the way that sleeping minds flow from idea to idea.
I think, after this investigation, I've been lead to two key things to keep in mind when working on dream sequences - or nightmare sequences - in stories.

Firstly, it doesn't matter whether your story is speculative fiction or not, because there's a variety of ways that dreams manifest. Yes, sometimes you're floating through space with your koala sidekick, and sometimes you're going through a memory, and things are just slightly off. So, whilst I applaud dream sequences that take a deep-dive into the surreal, that's not the endmost and utmost of dreams - sometimes, dreams are boring, and so some dream sequences can be understated, and still be realistic.
But secondly, fiction is already playing a complicated game of suspension of disbelief, and so if you try to stretch that with a freaky-deaky dream sequence, you might be going a stretch too far. So, whilst it isn't always the most realistic that characters have full conversations in their dreams, and the rooms they're in seem to remain solid and unshifting, despite how warped settings can get in dreams... the story has to come first. So long as you put in a little effort to add a surreal quality - don't get lazy, and rely on harp music and wavy transition effects to convince the audience you're in a dream sequence - then cheating a little can be forgiven for the sake of the story.

I'm the Absurd Word Nerd, and I've learnt that there's no place like home, and I don't want to go anywhere else ever again... wait, really? That's the moral of The Wizard of Oz? Well, to hell with that! I've stayed at home enough with these quarantines and lockdowns, and I'm looking forward to getting out of my house.
So, Until Next Time, can you tell the difference between waking and dreaming?