Professor Sackmie as Boring in Dreams as in Real Life
“Your headstands are no match for my calculus, Mr. Carter!” - photo by Annie Dimitras
Henry Becker
UCSD cognitive scientists testing breakthrough dream-reading technology were unable to continue their studies last night when they were forced to sit through several mind-numbing lectures within the sleeping brain of UCSD political science professor Larry Sackmie.
Scientists reported that Sackmie, known for his meticulously meaningless lectures during waking hours, lectured just as slowly in their dreams, albeit on stranger topics.
“He talked about motorcycles and space rockets,” lead scientist Craig Smithers said. “But God, somehow I still knew every single thing he was going to talk about ahead of time.”
In Sackmie’s dreams, Smithers and his peers were forced to sit in uncomfortable wooden chairs in cold lecture halls while Sackmie droned on about the same topic for hours. Researchers noted that, as a result of the dream’s alternative reality, time had slowed to a near halt. In addition, all other students in the lecture hall were small infants or mentally-retarded adults swaddled in baby diapers.
“It was a little like going back to third grade,” Smithers said. “But the visuals were a lot less interesting. So boring. I think I shit my pants in class but didn’t notice.”
As part of their experimental procedures, Craig and his team placed Sackmie in varying environments to sleep in, including a twin bed, the floor of his house, a small wooden box and a filled-in hole in the ground.
However, studies found that results rarely varied. Sackmie somehow continued breathing, even with as many as five or six pairs of socks stuffed down his throat, which only added to the incomprehensibility of his lectures during sleep.
“Who here has sat through a four-hour lecture on the merits of nylon versus wool socks?” Smithers asked before he broke down sobbing. “Dear God, I have. Lord have mercy on me.”
As a result of the weeklong exercise with Sackmie, many of the cognitive scientists were left self-analyzing past traumas with their own neural scanners, only to learn the futility of their career paths.
However, despite present difficulties, scientists expressed hopes of resuming research next week after exhausting past subjects, such as professor Erin Sackovic and a host of vampire bats.
“I think next time we’re going to try some interesting people,” Smithers said. “Does anyone remember Carrot Top? Yeah, that would be much better.”
Until research resumes, however, the team of cognitive scientists plans on resuming their normal research schedule in the basement of Peterson Hall next to the vending machine. There they will test the effects of chocolate chip versus oatmeal cookies for what Smithers called “The Yum-Yum Factor.”
