Last night I dreamt I owned a talking hat. This hat was different from the talking animals I’ve owned for it was cynical, even angry. “What makes you think you’re fit to talk about physics?” it said. I protested, said something like, “everyone should talk about physics, Einstein would agree.” “Aw, to hell with Einstein,” lthe hat said, adding, “to hell with everybody.” Because there’s logic to dreams, and because sometimes the dreamer knows it, I thought perhaps this was Satan’s hat–some combinative, wearable rohrshach demon-blob. “Are you the devil?” I asked. “Well Sonny I ain’t Madame Blavatsky,” it said.
In general this was a very fine dream. The hat was, of course, my Id, and I noted with satisfaction upon waking it was high up on a shelf.
Planet of the Blind 