I’m a bit of an oddball. This is telling, and as a writer, I need to show not tell.
Well, I will show you (in the form of a story) that I am an oddball.
I am a sleep laugher. I know what you’re thinking: “Hilary, please. You laugh all the time. You’re a bad stand-up comic’s dream. This does not impress us.” Well, fine. I’m not trying to impress you. Maybe I am a little bit, but not any more than a little, okay?
The first time I sleep laughed, I was living in Hawaii for a summer. I feel fabulous writing that sentence. My summer on Oahu was… magic. It was all things carefree: full of ocean rejuvenation, giggling nieces, and sister heart-to-hearts. It was eating fresh fruit and fish daily because we were in Hawaii and eating Cheesecake Factory several times a week because we were in America. Ahhhh
It was during this period of paradise living that I was sleeping in the living room of a little apartment, as was my brother. (I said we we were in Hawaii, not that we were rich in Hawaii.) In my sleep, I dreamed, as I do almost every night. I wish I could remember this particular dream more vividly, but all I can tell you is that I was talking to Tom Felton, whose hair had fallen out from getting bleached in Harry Potter. And I told him that his wig looked “so bad.” In the dream world, this was hysterical.
I laughed at my own “joke” (something I’m often guilty of asleep or awake), but then I woke myself up, still laughing in real life. Then I was laughing because I woke myself up laughing. Then my brother was severely scared of my hysteria. (This might be a good time to mention that a month before this incident, I woke up this brother in the middle of the night while balling my eyes out to make sure he was still alive after I had a nightmare where he died; he’s not a fan of my dreams.) Then we both laughed at the ridiculousness of the dream once I was able to “explain” it as best I could. I’m pretty sure he just got: “Haha Malfoy haha wig.”
Here’s the thing; this has not been a one-time occurrence. Hawaii was the first, but it has happened several times since, always spurred on by some brilliant “joke” I’ve made in the dream like, “Tom Felton, that wig is so bad.” Wahahahaha. Man, I got him.
Let’s just say that dream-world Hilary is out of her mind. I used to keep a dream journal next to my bed, fill it out, and then read through it in the morning, without remembering what I had written down. I stopped that. Sometimes, I had good stuff, sure, like “pizza with caramel crust” or “married Will Power” or “Jon Bon Jovi is a charter school radio host.” However, there’s only so many times you can read “beards for breastfeeding” and “tall Chinese jumping man with many jacuzzi fish” and “become an old folks trainer” before you say this is deeper into my mind than I’m willing to go.
For now, I just know that I’m an oddball and a sleep laugher, which is sort of like a sleep walker, but louder and more obnoxious and less dangerous.