Sometimes I wake up in the middle of the night and my mouth is so dry that I would swear I ate a desert instead of dessert. It feels like my tongue has transformed into the Sahara, with a camel caravan led by a sheik desperately seeking “Midnight at the Oasis.” I’m not sure which sheik, but honestly, any sheik will do in this predicament.
Unfortunately for our nameless sheik, every oasis he thinks he sees turns out to be just a mirage of the band that sings “Champagne Supernova.” You know, if I were that sheik, I’d definitely prefer a mimosa supernova—more refreshing, minus the champagne. At least then he wouldn’t have to worry about being “caught beneath the landslide,” but rather just caught in a sandstorm, which frankly, isn’t much better.
Now, how do you end up with a sandstorm in your mouth while you’re sleeping? If I had to hazard a guess, I’d blame the Sandman. But what’s his deal? Is he moonlighting as a desert tour guide now? I mean, if he’s going to be putting sand in my yap while I’m sleeping, I’d much prefer it be from a tropical beach, not a barren desert.
Perhaps this is all an elaborate revenge plot by my taste buds for that time I tried wasabi-flavored ice cream. Or maybe it’s a sign that I really should stop eating ice cream sandwiches before bed. Those deliciously deceptive treats lull you into a false sense of security, whispering sweet nothings about creamy goodness and then, bam! Desert mouth strikes at 3 a.m., leaving you to stagger to the kitchen, desperately gulping water like a castaway who just discovered a hidden spring.
It’s almost like a nightly adventure, minus the fun. I guess if there’s one thing to take away from all this, it’s that hydration is key, and the Sandman has a twisted sense of humor. Either that, or I need to start dreaming of waterfalls and rain showers instead of desert landscapes and wandering sheiks.
