The act of sleeping seems to paralyse vocal cord functions. When fear grips me in the dark of the night I call out in my sleep. But no words come forth from my sleeping form. What comes out instead is a ghoulish primeval sound akin to the word for mother, a sound that goes back to the evolutionary origins of the human species.
Sometimes, I read Chuck Lorre’s vanity card at the tail end of The Big Bang Theory. The last one was about how much he was influenced by science fiction. Earlier that same day a friend asked me why I didn’t perform all the usual religious acts, as people seem to be doing, mostly unconsciously _ going to temple, church, performing rituals, which are addictively mind numbing and therefore I suppose tranquilising like a drug.