The master control that hides in my head; two of me.

A strange, perfectly explicable normal thing happened to me on Wednesday morning (spanning back to Tuesday night).

Now Tuesday night.

Not sure what I was thinking, because I’m usually 99.8% consistent and dependable when it comes to setting my alarm clock. Maybe i was distracted.

It was so long ago, I can’t remember. I was a wee young lad on Tuesday night. Whatever the case, I forgot to set my alarm clock for my usual wake-up time. Let’s call it 9am. Funny that I reveal just about every little stupid factoid here that would give most decent doxers all they need to take my tangled, insignificant reputation and thoroughly pound it into the crevices of my soul’s earthly fissures. And yet, I refrain from giving my true wake-up time (which assuredly is not 9 am).

The actual time is not important for the purposes of this post. So let’s call it 9 in the morning. This is the time my alarm is set for, and 998 times out of a thousand, I remember to set it the night before. That’s how I roll. I just do shit consistently, I’m very regular, I’m very punctual, and I make people sick with my exactitude.

Tuesday, though. A rare exception. Where was my head?

Whatever it was, it prevented me from setting my alarm clock. Of course, this was a subconscious lapse in habit, and I went to bed with my alarm clock holding its vestigial 9am beacon secretly in its tendrils with the implied order, owing to my forgetfulness, to “do not alert” on Wednesday morning.

I slept through most of the night, woke up to piss, crawled back into bed, careful not to look at my clock. Absolutely not. See, I’m a terrible sleeper and I go through spells where I’m plagued by insomnia. Sometimes it’s as if I don’t need more than 5 hours of sleep. If I look at the clock, I get psyched out and then really can’t sleep if the hour is too early. There is nothing as horrible as waking up and seeing that it’s only 1:30 in the morning.

So I crawled back into bed between Tuesday night and Wednesday morning, and somehow, did go back to sleep.

When suddenly, I was jarred from my sleep by the sound of my cell’s ringer tone. My phone never rings at such an ungodly hour, and if it does, I fucking jump. I’ve written here about phones and their foreboding legacy in my life. Phones simply don’t ring at odd times unless it’s bad news. This is a fact of life, a law of nature. So I jumped when I heard the phone…only to realize I had been asleep, and the noise was just an auditory dream hallucination. Damn it!

I glanced at the clock and was relieved to see it was 8:55. I decided to get out of bed, but first I needed to turn my alarm clock off as it would go off in 5 minutes. Alas…there was nothing to turn off. This is when I first realized that I had not set it the night before, but ever so auspiciously, my dream state, realizing that the clock was not armed for my usual wake up time, decided to rouse me from sleep behind the subterfuge of an auditory dream which served as a proxy for an alarm clock.


OK. Maybe not that freaky.

Some people get off on dreams. Since dreams are surreal, we tend to fantasize them, endow them with way more predictive significance than they deserve.

Dreams are science, bitch. Dreams are an extension of our waking states. They are pure subconscious logic.

Many might be inclined to interpret my phone-ringing dream as a supernatural incident, but I don’t believe in magic.

Somewhere in the chain of events between Tuesday night’s failure to set my alarm clock and the moment I crawled back into bed after visiting the bathroom, my cerebral master control noted analytically that I had failed to do something I should do, would normally do.

When the conscious parcel of my personality did not comply, it kicked into rescue mode and communicated with me on a subconscious level since, at least in my case, my subconscious does not directly communicate with my conscious state.

This is amazing, slightly fearsome, but hardly magical.

My master control watches all. It is the overseer.

It watches me, lords over my life. It knows what I fail to do, notes it all, guides me, occasionally steps in to remedy that which my consciousness does not tidy up. It’s an awesome thing to behold.

And quite powerful, this master control. Big Brother cowers in my head.

Watching me now, typing. Are there two of me?