Parroting the Dreamer Within

If dreams are sideways expressions of waking thoughts and activities, those who spend their waking hours standing on their heads should expect east and west to be reversed. It follows, then, that no such expectation exists for the north and south poles, since the inner ear never accompanies the dreamer where frivolous delirium is the only option on the menu.

In space, any directional cues come directly from headquarters, which is useful if the audio hasn't been muted for naptime, or otherwise made to squelch objectionable content that might intrude on the dreamer's sense of equilibrium. Unlike its terrestrial counterpart, the spacefaring ear has no qualms about ingesting whatever is put in front of it, even when the result is of questionable taste.

In a similar way, pondering the inverse relationship between a microwave and a bird is likely to result in dreamwise regurgitation, which is only hastened by the related ingredients of evolutionary speculation and an iconic alien lifeform stewing in its own incomprehensible juices. In other words, it should have come as no surprise when a parrot pecked its way into my quiescent mind. Obviously, a quiescent mind isn't always a dreaming mind, and dreams are free to fly in and have a look around any time the window is open, so the insinuation that I might have been sleeping is wrongheaded, and mean.

The point I was trying to make is that, when a dream-parrot is bobbing its head and spewing gibberish, such as "Polly want a monolith," it's the dreamer's responsibility to decide whether or not the bird is using a pseudonym, and how it is that parrots so rarely employ the concept of a polymonolithic entity, if indeed they ever do.