Sleep Talkin' Man (6 page)

Smug fucking chameleon,
with its googly oogly eyes.
Stick it in front of the TV.
That'll fuck it up.

I can't tell you how many concerned e-mails and comments I've gotten from blog readers, checking to see if I'm emotionally intact after the latest STM zinger. For example, the above. That's right, lying right next to me, Adam said that in his sleep. But no, he did not wake up to find me sobbing dejectedly or glaring accusingly. Granted, Adam does say some truly dreadful things in his sleep. And I suppose that there are some women out there who would worry that their husband was revealing some dark, hidden feelings about her that he dare not utter in the light of day.

I am not that woman. There has never been a single utterance to come out of Sleep Talkin' Man that has offended me, or left me fretting for my relationship. I've got a husband who still sends me off to work with sandwiches in which he has
tucked little love notes. Why would I get myself worked up over some nutty nighttime nattering?

STM does spend an inordinate share of his limited airtime spewing insults. People have commented that he must really dislike people, or suffer from some serious anger issues. All I can say to that is, as the person who sees more of him awake and asleep than anyone, it's just not true—Adam spends most of his days in good spirits, and genuinely likes and gets along with just about everyone. So I believe that, for the most part, his clever but scathing insults are not inspired by anyone, but are just Adam's subconscious letting off a bit of steam while entertaining itself along the way.

Nevertheless, Adam's sleep talking has occasionally gotten him into a spot of trouble with those who did take something personally. For example, this little time bomb from two years into our relationship:

My mom read the blog that day. When she spoke to me a day or two later, she joked about Adam owing her an apology. By the time she had made this quip three more times over the next week, I got the message that she really was waiting for an apology, or at least some assurance. I think my mother was feeling genuinely concerned that STM was revealing some kernel of truth about Adam's feelings. Seriously, Mom, the guy herds pygmy goats, keeps a midget in his closet, and married a zombie. How much more evidence would it take to convince you that STM's universe is populated with an entirely different cast of characters than Adam's? There's a whole other world up there in Adam's head, and STM insults his way through every bit of it.

That said, it often happens that particular events in Adam's waking life crop up in some warped form in his late-night mumblings. This has been known to drop him in a bit of hot water. For instance, one night after he had shamelessly teased the receptionist at work about the prolific :) and :( faces studding her e-mails, STM came out with:

That one caused some trouble. To be specific, when he walked into work the next morning, it caused a stapler to be hurled at his head.

Real life references didn't always pepper Adam's sleep talking as they do now. In fact, for a long time, everything Adam said seemed utterly random and unrelated to reality. It was a full ten months into STM's existence before he said anything that we were able to recognize from our waking life. But there was no missing it that first time:

Now, I can't tell you where the snorkels fit in. I can tell you, though, that this was the night before he was going into family court concerning visitation with his kids. Perhaps his anxiety was so intense that it broke right through more literally than anything else had up to that point. Although, as you can see, he didn't quite manage a complete departure from the surreal.

We had another month of nothing but randomness from STM, and then, just after one of our best friends revealed that she was pregnant for the first time, we got our next little glimpse of Adam's life in STM's exposition:

This regretful warning was most informative for our pregnant friend, I'm sure.

Another month went by with no midnight mentions of Adam's waking life. And then we went on our honeymoon, and Adam's two
worlds collided! He babbled nearly every night about the day's happenings. Our honeymoon was a bit unusual, you see—we spent two weeks volunteering at an elephant sanctuary in Thailand—and thus, I believe, it provided plenty of fodder for STM's interest in the abnormal. It started with this one:

No real mystery what he's talking about there, although it does beg the question of how hairy Adam's grandmother was. Another night, we had this:

This one was definitely inspired by real life: at the sanctuary, we lived in a raised structure made of mostly bamboo. When anyone from any of the huts walked around, the entire place shook with their footfall. This next one is pretty self-explanatory, given the fact that we were in Thailand:

And finally, for anyone who has ever shoveled elephant poop, this one needs no explanation:

I can only hypothesize that our daily experiences started appearing in Adam's sleep talking because in an elephant sanctuary, a situation as
unlike our typical life as you could ask, our day-to-day was suddenly just as interesting as his imagination. Our stint at the sanctuary seemed to throw wide open the portal between Adam's waking and sleeping lives. Even after we'd returned home to “regular” life, reality cropped up more and more often among the usual bizarre, fanciful musings of STM. STM was inspired by people Adam met, as in this utterance after an evening out entertaining a client with an especially noteworthy beard:

He was stirred by television shows we had watched, especially our most guilty-pleasure programs, like this little number during our
Ghost Hunters
phase:

And sometimes, he simply replayed—with his own twist—experiences Adam had, like this narration while we were spending a long weekend in Belgium, which is justly famous for its waffle houses:

Of course, noticing how often real life was creeping into Adam's sleep talking, I couldn't help but try and experiment to see if I could willfully influence the content of STM's musings. Much to Adam's annoyance, I started addressing STM just before we went to sleep. The first time I tried this, I said, “Sleep Talkin' Man, are you in there? Listen, I'd really like to hear about manatees tonight, okay? Can you tell me something about manatees?” In response that night, I got:

Sounds like STM resented my showing interest in any particular subject matter, rather than his mere existence. Touchy, touchy!

Another night, he further revealed his refusal to play by anyone else's rules. Just before we went to sleep, we were Skyping with my friend Jenny. Jenny, a vegetarian herself, signed off the conversation by saying, “Don't say anything mean
about vegetarians tonight!” To this, we got:

Apparently, STM doesn't take requests.

So while real life references do pop up in Adam's sleep talking—and make a nice addition to the egomaniacal self-praise, scathing insults, and inexplicable surreality, there's no mistaking it for reality. I can assure you, in his waking hours Adam knows how to share a waffle.

If honesty's the best policy,
and the truth hurts, then you'd better call an
ambulance, ‘cause you're not gonna like the
stuff I'm gonna fucking say.

Finger painting's fun.
I need to get some more fingers, though.
Give me your fingers. Oh fuck it, I'll just cut ‘em off. You've got pretty fingers.
I can do some pretty painting with those pretty fingers. Toes, I can use toes! Yay!
I'm sorted. Fingers and toes.

Batman, why don
'
t you sit down and have a cup of coffee. I feel much more comfortable calling in the marines. Rubber-loving freak. And as for you Robin, put some fucking normal clothes on, dickhead.

The fruit flies have escaped!
Hide your plums! Satsumas flee! FLEE!
Oh, this is gonna be total fruitocide.
Fuck you, avocado, you're on your own.

You
'
ve got to save the curtains!
Save the curtains …
they hold so many secrets.

By the way, washing in rose water doesn't
stop you smelling like a piece of shit.

Goddammit! Where's my bazooka?
I put it on the ground, expecting it to be there when I come back. Have you been tidying up again, ‘cause I really would like my bazooka back. I don't know where you put things. Jesus! Cannot just leave anything alone, can you?

“You piss-flap motherfucking tosser!
No, I DON'T want to say anything else.
I think that sums you up enough.”

Okay. Brace yourself. I can
'
t be held responsible for the fallout. You ready? I Like You. Yeah, rock
'
n
'
roll.

Shoot the fucking cellist.
Pompous cunt with his oversized violin.

I smell because I'm a PENGUIN and I eat FISH, doofus!

It
'
s Captain Fluffer!
Hero to teenage boys.

Yay! It's my birthday today.
And you're going to give me presents.
Big fuck-off presents. Lots of them …
WHERE ARE MY PRESENTS?! Tossbag.

I need a mask, nun-chucks, rubber suit, shitloads of talc. Got list, will shop.
It's a superhero shopping list, shithead.

God judges you. Well, I judge God.
This week: not bad! Still messing up in the Middle East, though. Sort it out.

Being overweight's hard work.
You should applaud my determination.

No. I don't talk about the jellybean incident. That's one wound that'll take too long to heal.

So what, vegans are healthier and live longer.
Let them be the last ones living on a dead planet.

Kiss my imperial ass,
you Jedi muthafucka!

Yeah, I love you.
But in a not-really kind of way.

Right then:
After dinner, it's butt shaking time.

Don't you dare get me up early.
Especially to get vegan fucking cupcakes.
What ever possessed you? Eat some mud instead. Tastes the same, and I bet there's more nutrients in it.

I'm gonna make you laugh so hard your holes will leak. Wet pants time!

Here
'
s what we do:
We wrestle back control from the pirate gerbils, and the seas will be ours! That
'
s right, you nasty little sea flumes … Shit, they
'
re stashing the treasure in their cheeks! Come on!
Time for some plundering!