I get up a couple of times during the night with our younger daughter, who’s seven months old. I don’t really mind it; mainlining coffee all day and the occasional ten-minute nap get me by. But sometimes it comes with wierd side effects.
Take today. I got up with her at 6am, then she went back to sleep at 6:30 am, so I laid down again because my sore body and groggy mind informed me that I wasn’t done sleeping yet (or I shouldn’t be.) I dropped off immediately, and the dream I had was short, vivid, and strange.
I dreamed I was wandering around through a huge, elaborate building, which had several areas — polished staterooms, dim sterile institutional hallways, stairways with flickering flourescent lights, etc. There were lots of other people around, and most of them were carrying guns. I had one too — a beaut: a scoped and accurized Colt .45. (A big, heavy automatic that makes a big hole with a big bullet, for those who are not gun aficianados.) I was wandering around, occasionally chatting with people I evidently knew, and every so often a wizened old man in pajamas would pop up in front of me and try and scare me by shouting “Boo!” in a reedy voice out of a toothless mouth. I’d flinch instinctively and jerk the trigger on the Colt — and clik. The firing pin would snap on an empty chamber. Nothing happened because the gun wasn’t loaded. This happened at least three or four times. Clik. Clik. Clik. What could this possibly mean?
The sound that gun made as I pulled the trigger echoed through my head a long time after I woke up (and it still is, right now.) Why is even such a little sound like that so memorable, if you hear it in the context of a dream?
Where does this stuff come from?