I am so glad to see you looking Normal Again, I tell the Owner, after your Night spent as a Giant Cheese.
The Moral Dog was Dreaming, says the Owner. I have not spent the night as a Giant Cheese.
How can you be sure? I ask.
Because, during the night, I was Actually There, says the Owner.
You were Definitely Cheese, I say. I spent the Evening attempting to Extract you from the Jaws of a Chihuahua.
Dreams are not Real, says the Owner. They are products of the Moral Dog’s mind as he is Sleeping.
What is the Point of That? I say. Does the Moral Dog’s Mind not have Enough to Do? I ask. Do you mean that a Moral Dog wakes up after an Exhausting Battle to discover that he has Wasted his Efforts? I say. If you had Actually Been Cheese there would at least have been a Point, I say. I Faced Down a Chihuahua for You, I say. I am Shattered, I say. I need a Rest, I say.
The Moral Dog is Extremely Brave, says the Owner, and the fact that Dreams are not real does not mean there was No Point to his bravery. I do not share the view of Aristotle, who thought Dreams a Sign of a Dull and Empty mind, or of Hobbes and Schopenhauer, who thought them born of Superstition.
I should think so too, I say. The Moral Dog’s Mind is neither Dull nor Empty and he has Cast Aside Superstition since the Headless Zombies stopped Scraping on the Windows at Night.
That was Brambles, says the Owner. But Modern Neuroscientists feel that Dreams are part of the Reorganisation of the Moral Dog’s Memories, to allow later Storage and Retrieval.
If the Moral Dog’s Owner had Ever Been a Giant Cheese, I say, Believe Me, the Moral Dog would not have Forgotten.
Indeed, says the Owner, the Moral Dog makes a Good Point. Other Neuroscientists feel that Dreams are an Evolutionary Adaptation that have allowed us to Evolve Responses to Imagined Ancestral Threats. They have Suggested that Dreams allow Rehearsal of Such Responses whilst no True Danger is Faced.
That does not make sense either, I say. If you were a Cheese, I say, I Would Not Feel threatened, I say. The Moral Dog is made of Tougher Stuff, I say. The Moral Dog is able to Sleep even in the presence of Ghostly Owls, I say. The Moral Dog can Face Down even Large Cheeses without Fear, I say.
Owls are not Ghostly, says the Owner. They are Just Owls.
They Hoot, I say. In a Ghostly Fashion, I say.
All Hooting is Ghostly, says the Owner. But there is, of course, Freudian Theory, says the Owner.
What is Freudian Theory? I ask.
Freud suggested that Dreams were Revelations of Inner Yearnings, says the Owner. Perhaps the Moral Dog secretly wishes that his Owner was Cheese, says the Owner.
Of course I do not, I say. How could you say such a thing, I say. Clearly Aristotle and the Neuroscientists have, somewhere between them, a point, I say. Clearly the Moral Dog either has an Empty Brain, has watched Too Many Cheese-Related Horror Films, or has an Ancestral and Evolutionary Fear of Cheeses that has Lingered Inappropriately into the Modern World. After All, he would Obviously never Wish that his Owner was Cheese.
Of course not, says the Owner.
Of course not, I say.
Hergest the Hound
I am a dog of many thoughts.