I’ve always been an “active” sleeper. When I was a kid, my dad would often find me wandering around the house—asleep, with my eyes open—and have to gently guide me back to bed. I would sometimes find things with me in the morning—stuff from my room or pieces of a craft I’d done earlier that day. About 40% of children sleep walk, and about 50% sleep talk. One of my finest moments as a kid was walking out of the hotel room we were staying at as a family, heading out into the hall and having a casual wander for a bit until the bright lights woke me up. I spent the next 5 minutes sobbing and knocking on the door of my parents’ room, staring at a Cheeto on the ground and hoping they would let me in. Really, can you imagine a more horrifying scenario? It’s 3am, you’re asleep, you hear a knock on the door and it’s your kid who was supposed to be in bed. Sorry mom and dad.

As I got older, I grew out of a lot of my sleepwalking (most kids do), but I still do it every once in a while—especially if I’m exhausted or in a strange place. Mostly what I do now is sleep talk (about 4% of adults do, and they were likely sleepwalkers as kids too). The triggers are the same as my sleepwalking, though my long-suffering boyfriend will tell you that alcohol seems to set me off too. Oops. But bless him, because he’s the one that must bear witness to my somniloquy (that’s the official scientific name for sleep talking, but please don’t ask me to say it out loud).

I’ve recently upgraded my sleep game with my newest app purchase, Sleep Talk, a recording app that takes note of all the weird things I say. Below, with as much context as I can provide, is a list of my personal faves, plus the dreams I imagine I was having when I said them. The human brain is a weird, weird thing.

“It’s made up. In my mind.”

I’m a magician, performing to a sold-out stadium in Las Vegas. The crowd is dazzled—they have never seen such incredible illusions. My final trick involves transforming a bag of grass into a hundred adorable puppies that turn into doves that fly away. Everyone is inspired. I receive two standing ovations. A couple comes up to me after the show and asks “But how did you do it?” “It’s made up,” I reply. “In my mind.” There never was a show, there never was an audience, there never were puppies. Cue doves.

“We don’t got nothin’ to lithen about.”

The camera pans over to a tastefully decorated—if slightly stuffy—living room. A family sits together, warmly discussing their day. The youngest daughter tells a story about how her new shoes made squeaking sounds in the hallway – the family laughs. Suddenly, the front door slams open and I pop in, wearing 3 different vests, large sunglasses, and an expressive wig. “Did thomebody say Thqueaky?” I ask. The studio audience goes nuts—Squeaky is their favourite character. The youngest daughter replies: “No, Squeaaaaakyyyy, I was talking about my shoes!” “Well we don’t got NOTHIN’ to lithen’ about!” The family laughs. The studio audience goes insane—Squeaky’s catchphrase gets them every time. It cuts to a tampon commercial.

“Oh fuck. That spider is fucking huge.”
[There is no audio for this one, because honestly it would be too scary and also it pre-dates the app. I’m sorry.]
I am a celebrated scientist, known not only for my book smarts, but for my street smarts too. I am deep in the jungles of central Africa with my colleagues, documenting new species. Twice on this trip, I have been playfully teased for my colloquial speech. “Oh fuck,” I say, “That spider is fucking huge!” I go on about his “big fucking legs” and his “scary fucking teeth, man!” They laugh, but still, they listen. It is revealed to be a spider thought to have been extinct for 200 years. Its venom solves world hunger.

“It’s in here. It’s in here.”

I am a dentist, an oral surgeon. I don’t enjoy causing pain, but I do love taking teeth out—if only there was a way to do so without hurting the patient. Nevertheless, I do my job in the manner I was trained. Today, it is a 16-year-old with one wisdom tooth. I know it’s in there, I’ve seen the x-ray. And yet—I cannot find the tooth. “Doctor, we only have a few minutes left on the anaesthesia,” says my nurse. “I know!” I say, “It’s in here. It’s in here.” Finally, just in time, I locate the tooth. But it is not, in fact, a tooth. It is a rare pearl.

“Sorry, sorry, sorry. It’s okay, sorry”

It’s setup time at the Sum 41 concert, and I am a roadie. Someone has left a support rod for the lighting rig right in my path, and I am pissed. I go to move it with both hands, but the support rod talks back to me. “WHOA!” it says. I wake up. The support rod is actually my dear friend Ann, with whom I’m sharing a bed because we are on a road trip. I’m sleepwalking and I’ve grabbed her and she is terrified and she has woken me up. I’m super freaked out and my heart is racing. I quickly mumble an apology and shamefully crawl back into my side of the bed. Oops. I had too many beers.

Photo by Chantale Renee.