The shoulder is still pretty jacked. The wrist is better, but sore. So, the car crash isn’t quite behind me yet, although I’ve got wheels, and I’ve been going back to work, albeit with a healthy dose of pain.

Today has been my first day, since returning to work, that I was able to sleep in. Aside from my wife waking me up to tell me she was going to work, I got about twelve hours of sleep. Had I absolutely nothing else to do today, I probably would have stayed down for more. It seems to help.

But what I’m writing about is a bit of etiquette. I might be alone in this, but over the years of having conversations with people about this one item, I think I’m not: don’t ever verbosely share your dreams.

My old rule was, if I can’t share it in under three sentences, I’m victimizing the other person. I’ve now trimmed it down to just not sharing dreams with anyone unless that someone is my wife and it was a particularly vivid or unusual dream, and then I still related it back to the original rule. If you were to ask her, I’ve probably shared two dreams (give or take two) in our few years of marriage. The low number is because dreams don’t matter and she probably doesn’t care.

Fortunately, no one has recently, in detail, tried to tell me about a dream they had, but because I had so much sleep last night, I had a good dose of dreams. So, let’s example a bit.

I dreamed that I was walking through a crowded city. I was walking down a very steep hill on a sidewalk with people all around me, but there was a lady with her young son with her ahead of me. There was wind that was blowing up the steep hill into my face which took my breath away, and then it shifted so that the strong wind was coming from my back and that nearly pushed me into the woman and her sun. On the left was a river or a canal and some sort of train tracks. When we got to a part of the sidewalk that had a raised sidewalk to let people cross the canal, suddenly the woman and her kid disappeared into this sort of culvert below the sidewalk. I started looking for what had happened, and in the darkness of the culvert, I saw a monster’s head with a shining, black eye. It came out suddenly at me, the head on a long neck like a plesiosaur and attacked me. I grabbed it’s neck to defend myself …

If you’re still reading, you’ve got too much time on your hand. Had I told that story to someone at work, they’d hate me for it. And if you told me that dream, I’d dodge you any time that I heard the topic of dreams or sleep come up. Instead something more appropriate would be:

I had this weird dream. A monster snatched a lady and I fought it, but a garbage truck woke me up. Must have had been something I ate.

Much more appropriate for sharing with people.

Also, if you understand your dreams from the perspective of the Book of Daniel or some sort of New Age interpretations, just remember, the majority of humans around you don’t.

This has been your public service announcement for the day.