March 7: A dreamy state, with full scuba gear

By Larry Berteau

There are many theorists running around - or having run around in the past before popping their clogs - who know all about dreams. They interpret them, like some horse whisperer, except they don't wear wrangler jeans or get movies made about them.

Sigmund Freud was one of these (being in the latter clogged group). He was shameless, titling his book on the subject: "The Interpretation of Dreams." It was published in Germany - in German - in 1900.

There is no truth to anything Siggy said about dreams. It has been established that there were no dreams in Germany - or German - in the last two decades of the 19th century.

Consequently, there will be precious little discussion of Mr. Freud in this column - one that ultimately will reveal the true meaning of dreams.

Visions of bunsen burners

But first some background. There is scientific evidence that dreaming is a chemical process. This is important only if you are contemplating stealing someone else's dreams and sticking them in a test tube. (This is an interesting activity to ruminate on, but solves nothing when trying to get to the bottom of this dream thing.)

So, forget the fact that during sleep (via the probing impulses of an electroencephalograph) brain waves become fat as a pig at a luau, and slow as a sloth in a sauna. Then, according to the grotes-quely multi-voweled machine, the brain waves speed up for no apparent reason, become slender as an anorexic gazelle, and produce REM (rapid eye movement) sleep - which is when you dream.

An interesting side note to this REM sleep deal is that when it occurs the nerve pulses from the brain to the muscles are blocked. The result is, we can't move.

So, if you're particularly skinny, deep in REM sleep, and dream of falling off the bed, the resultant condition would be one where you would be planted in the bedroom floor like some corn stalk with pajamas.

But, like I said, this is all bunk, and no attention whatsoever should be paid to it.

The good stuff is coming up.

Pass the pizza, Mr. Putin

What really causes dreams is there are certain kinds of dream food. Eat 'em, and dream away.

Pepperoni is No. 1.

REM sleep has nothing on RPM (Rapid Pepperoni Movement) sleep.

Pepperoni may stick perfectly well to pizza due to the cheesy bed it enjoys. But in the bloodstream, pepperoni is like Jeff Gordon on a banked turn at Daytona. Picture a pepperoni, greasy foot to the floor, hurtling in low around the spleen and careening out high around the brain.

Now, you've got a dream going on.

No. 2 is cabbage. Middle Europeans have great dreams. Unfortunately, they've never provided them with any particular advantage over other geographical areas, but that's life.

No. 3 is beets. Russians actually have the best dreams. They eat pepperoni-like sausages, cabbage and beets by the barrel.

When Pizza Hut opened the first parlor in Moscow a decade ago, beets was the No. 1 topping, followed by cabbage, then pepperoni. That packs a lot more scientific evidence than overweight brain waves.

My Freudian bridge

As to the meaning of dreams, Siggy and his ilk have opined that we dream of events and feelings we have experienced.

That's incorrect. I have never had feelings about, or experienced an event, that remotely resembles flying through the towers of the Golden Gate Bridge, daringly brushing my shoulder against the suspension wires. Yet, I have had that dream many times - prompted by piles of perfectly palatable pepperoni.

Most psychologists and psychiatrists today agree that dreams are meaningful. The converse is not true. Most dreamers consider psychologists and psychiatrists to be meaningless.

A shark realization

As in most cases, all this brings me to my wife - the woman of perpetual mirth.

She had a dream recently where she forgot my birthday. In a mad scramble (RMS sleep no doubt - rapid mad scramble) she determined that I had enough coffee mugs (an easy math problem: add up all my birthdays since high school and multiply by 1) and in desperation bought me scuba gear, from tank to regulator to black outfit that makes you look like a defenseless seal with a bad back, the most delectable of victuals for great white sharks.

On second thought, the psychologists and psychiatrists may be right in some instances. This theory may have merit: Dreams are meaningful if you have suffered the bad draw of marrying a journalist.

Larry Berteau is editor of The Tidings.