This is no ordinary nap. As I drift off, vibrations strum my fingertips, and low tones play in the earbuds. Between these stimuli, strange thoughts move through my semi-conscious mind, the kind of free association that feels normal in sleep and bizarre in life. Names, words, rabbits, phone booths, train announcements—but just when I start to go under, the lights, tones, and vibrations kick in and wake me back up. I try to keep responding; after a long, dark interval, I am so tired that I stop, and then I am dreaming.
I am with my son, digging in the back garden of a brick row house. We are burying something in the lawn. I respond to a few stimuli, then I have the impression that someone in a position of authority—a man with a mustache?—is reprimanding me for failing to keep something level. Then I am awake. The electrodes taped to my face are suddenly palpable.
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