I seem to be having a spate of nightmares. I’m not sure what’s caused it, but it is making the idea of oversleeping manifestly unattractive.

I’m fascinated with the mind’s ability to dream. It is the ultimate virtual reality simulation. Somehow, the mind is systematically disconnected from the body, and the interface reconnected to a system capable of reproducing thoughts, actions, feelings, sensory inputs, and emotions. The scenes we experience are played out at the whim of a director, unseen and unknown to us, who is also a part of us. It’s quite amazing, really.

Sometimes the disconnection of mind from body isn’t quite perfect. It’s fun watching our dog, Penny, dream. I can tell when she’s running; her paws twitch in that exact rhythm. She doesn’t bark, but you can hear slight exhalations that correspond in timing to her usual barking. It’s the same with me, probably.  Allison tells me I sometimes talk, and I know that my adrenal glands respond in a way because when I wake from a dream in which I’m falling or otherwise in peril, I awaken with my body already in full fight-or-flight alertness.

My recent nightmares have not been of the action-adventure sort. They all seem to involve some kind of drama, and often some sort of loss is involved. My mind has a way of erasing some of my dreams after I’ve been conscious for a few seconds or a few minutes,  but some of them stay with me. Perhaps this is my subconscious mind’s way of telling me which dreams really matter and which were simply mental recreation.

This morning, I woke up having dreamed that one of our birds had flown off my own hand and off into the wilderness, and I remember hearing her squawking, “Baby bird! Baby bird!” as she disappeared from sight. Allison was there, but I can’t remember how she reacted. Another dream involved an ex-wife and my present spouse having a disturbing argument that somehow involved me; the exact nature I can’t recall.

Some nightmares have involved either a work issue or a financial one. I remember walking around at work with no pants on and desperately trying to find a way to cover up. I remember being in a strange city at sunset without a dime in my pocket, wondering where I would sleep.  Most of what survives from these illusory adventures and misadventures is disjointed and nonsensical.

Unfortunately, there doesn’t seem to be much that anyone can do to control bad dreams — or, for that matter, good ones. The latter is an even bigger pity, really. I can think of dozens of experiences, both real and imagined, that I’d love to live out in a dream world. Wouldn’t it be amazing if we could specify the subject matter and general plot of our dreams just before bed? We’d know that we would retain little or no memory of the events, but we’d awaken feeling oddly happy and inexplicably cheerful.

For now, though, I’d be happy to simply have a special blue pencil that I could use to edit out any potentially painful content in my upcoming nightmares.