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(mild sads ahead, but told with humor)
“Hey brain?”
“Yeah, buddy, what’s up?”
“Can I ask you something?”
“Always!”
“Cool, cool. So, listen, I know things haven’t been great with you lately, but I was just wondering about the dreams we’ve been having lately.”
“Oh, yeah, did you like that one?”
“I mean, I liked that it wasn’t a nightmare, like the one before.”
“Oh word. Nightmares are rough. Sorry about that.”
“It’s okay. We don’t have them too often, and it’s Saturday, so we get to sleep in a bit. And there’s naps to be had.”
“Yay naps!”
“Yeah, brain, yay naps! But I’m just curious about this last one.”
“I know! It’s wild!”
“A little bit, yeah. Can you take me through that one?”
“Oh, sure. So okay, you know how Monday’s the sixth anniversary of Dad’s death, yeah?”
“I do.”
“And how Ms. Preeti is probably going to die?”
“We don’t know that! Sure, she’s super sick, and I’m scared about the possibility of losing her, about how the school will handle things, about the kids, but she’s young and strong and—“
“About how Ms. Preeti is probably going to die??”
“Yes, yes, I’m completely freaking out about that, okay? But I have to push that down for now. Otherwise I won’t be able to go into work and do my job and be there for the kiddos. Passing her classroom, and she’s not there, and—-“
“Yeah, yeah, and also how her pneumonia reminds you of how you got Dad sick and it’s your fault he died?”
“Hey! We’ve spent a lot of time in therapy dismantling that fear! You know there’s no possible way to know how he picked up that final illness, and you know it was the chemo/radiation that weakened his heart to the point where it couldn’t fight anymore! You know that!”
“Yeah, but do we? Hashtag Thor-scrunchy-face-gif?”
“Did...did you just ...?
“So, turns out, when you shove stuff down, like, into that murky river of repression, other stuff comes to the surface. So...ta daaaaa!”
“Hang on, hang on, I still need to process that you attempted to insert a gif into a conversation.”
“*stage whispers* you’re typing this out. You are having a fake conversation with your anthropomorphic brain. How is Thor dot gif the weird thing?”
“Fair enough. The point is, why bring her up? It’s been ten years.”
“But I made it a reconciliation! Forgiveness! Can you imagine??”
“No! No no no, not Hamilton. Not after that JC/WWX edit. That is the saddest damn thing!”
“Counterpoint, that song is now stuck in our head. You’re welcome.”
“No.”
“Okay. Counter-counterpoint, I’m not actually in charge of dreams.”
“You’re my brain! Of course you are! I have so much prime material for you. I mean, I fell asleep trying to work out how to make that fic WIP a little spicier. We could have had spicy kisses! Angsty, spicy kisses! And instead, you give me her!”
“I dunno, man, it seems like it would be productive to work through one small, teeny tiny itty bitty piece of guilt, something to let go.”
“But... spicy kisses! Something to distract me from grief and fear!”
“Okay, I’ll be honest. I tried. But you spent so much energy learning how to say ‘not spicy’ in Chinese that now I have trouble overriding the program to allow spicy dreams in. I like the daydreams a lot, and I would really like to know what happens next. But I think you’re just gonna have to write the fic and see.”
“Well, that’s just rude.”
“I am just your brain, kiddo. It’s not like I control everything you do and see and feel and are.”
“You literally do. That is your one job.”
“Okay, you make a strong point. But remember, I am broken.”
“Can’t you be broken in a fun way, like a TV that suddenly unscrambles the sexy channels?”
“Maybe? Look, it’s two thirty in the morning. Why don’t you lie back down and start thinking about your story, the spiciest bit you can think of, and I’ll see what I can do.”
“I feel like this is a trap.”
“Oh, my sweet baby angel, it is NOT a trap. That would mean I do this to you on purpose. I don’t! I promise! Lie down, think about the fic, maybe throw in some serious Thinking About That Cute Actor And/Or Barista, something to give me a little inspiration, and I’ll see what I can do, yeah?”
“Sighs. Fine. I’ll try.”
“You! You just said ‘sighs’ instead of actually sighing! And you have the gall to complain about the gif thing!”
“Yawn, sigh, hmmm? What? Sorry, I’m thinking about spicy kisses! I can’t hear you! Goodnight, Brain!”
“Fine fine. Also! Don’t check your email! Really, don’t...ah, shit. Fine. Okay. Go back and read that one sexy fic and THEN sleep. I’ll do my best to give you something good. Sweet, well, spicy dreams. Love you!”
“Love you, too, Brain.”
“Hey brain?”
“Yeah, buddy, what’s up?”
“Can I ask you something?”
“Always!”
“Cool, cool. So, listen, I know things haven’t been great with you lately, but I was just wondering about the dreams we’ve been having lately.”
“Oh, yeah, did you like that one?”
“I mean, I liked that it wasn’t a nightmare, like the one before.”
“Oh word. Nightmares are rough. Sorry about that.”
“It’s okay. We don’t have them too often, and it’s Saturday, so we get to sleep in a bit. And there’s naps to be had.”
“Yay naps!”
“Yeah, brain, yay naps! But I’m just curious about this last one.”
“I know! It’s wild!”
“A little bit, yeah. Can you take me through that one?”
“Oh, sure. So okay, you know how Monday’s the sixth anniversary of Dad’s death, yeah?”
“I do.”
“And how Ms. Preeti is probably going to die?”
“We don’t know that! Sure, she’s super sick, and I’m scared about the possibility of losing her, about how the school will handle things, about the kids, but she’s young and strong and—“
“About how Ms. Preeti is probably going to die??”
“Yes, yes, I’m completely freaking out about that, okay? But I have to push that down for now. Otherwise I won’t be able to go into work and do my job and be there for the kiddos. Passing her classroom, and she’s not there, and—-“
“Yeah, yeah, and also how her pneumonia reminds you of how you got Dad sick and it’s your fault he died?”
“Hey! We’ve spent a lot of time in therapy dismantling that fear! You know there’s no possible way to know how he picked up that final illness, and you know it was the chemo/radiation that weakened his heart to the point where it couldn’t fight anymore! You know that!”
“Yeah, but do we? Hashtag Thor-scrunchy-face-gif?”
“Did...did you just ...?
“So, turns out, when you shove stuff down, like, into that murky river of repression, other stuff comes to the surface. So...ta daaaaa!”
“Hang on, hang on, I still need to process that you attempted to insert a gif into a conversation.”
“*stage whispers* you’re typing this out. You are having a fake conversation with your anthropomorphic brain. How is Thor dot gif the weird thing?”
“Fair enough. The point is, why bring her up? It’s been ten years.”
“But I made it a reconciliation! Forgiveness! Can you imagine??”
“No! No no no, not Hamilton. Not after that JC/WWX edit. That is the saddest damn thing!”
“Counterpoint, that song is now stuck in our head. You’re welcome.”
“No.”
“Okay. Counter-counterpoint, I’m not actually in charge of dreams.”
“You’re my brain! Of course you are! I have so much prime material for you. I mean, I fell asleep trying to work out how to make that fic WIP a little spicier. We could have had spicy kisses! Angsty, spicy kisses! And instead, you give me her!”
“I dunno, man, it seems like it would be productive to work through one small, teeny tiny itty bitty piece of guilt, something to let go.”
“But... spicy kisses! Something to distract me from grief and fear!”
“Okay, I’ll be honest. I tried. But you spent so much energy learning how to say ‘not spicy’ in Chinese that now I have trouble overriding the program to allow spicy dreams in. I like the daydreams a lot, and I would really like to know what happens next. But I think you’re just gonna have to write the fic and see.”
“Well, that’s just rude.”
“I am just your brain, kiddo. It’s not like I control everything you do and see and feel and are.”
“You literally do. That is your one job.”
“Okay, you make a strong point. But remember, I am broken.”
“Can’t you be broken in a fun way, like a TV that suddenly unscrambles the sexy channels?”
“Maybe? Look, it’s two thirty in the morning. Why don’t you lie back down and start thinking about your story, the spiciest bit you can think of, and I’ll see what I can do.”
“I feel like this is a trap.”
“Oh, my sweet baby angel, it is NOT a trap. That would mean I do this to you on purpose. I don’t! I promise! Lie down, think about the fic, maybe throw in some serious Thinking About That Cute Actor And/Or Barista, something to give me a little inspiration, and I’ll see what I can do, yeah?”
“Sighs. Fine. I’ll try.”
“You! You just said ‘sighs’ instead of actually sighing! And you have the gall to complain about the gif thing!”
“Yawn, sigh, hmmm? What? Sorry, I’m thinking about spicy kisses! I can’t hear you! Goodnight, Brain!”
“Fine fine. Also! Don’t check your email! Really, don’t...ah, shit. Fine. Okay. Go back and read that one sexy fic and THEN sleep. I’ll do my best to give you something good. Sweet, well, spicy dreams. Love you!”
“Love you, too, Brain.”
