People on
television and in
movies commonly have these amazing bursts of
inspiration while they're in bed, just about to fall asleep, causing them to spring up and feverishly (
write the script to the
Great American Movie/deduce that the
butler did it/build the
subspace interocitor).
It's a big load of bologna, that's what it is. A mind about to fall asleep is signing off; even an insomniac's one has parts flickering on and off. This is not a time for cognitive leaps usable in the realms of sanity. I very recently had a burst of this very kind, and the result was Doctor Head-can't.
Doctor Head-can't is a cheerful little man who always wears a big, silver bucket on his head. He doesn't look for trouble, but finds himself stalked by malevolent attackers. Not that he minds, since the bucket foils each and every one. It blocks rocks and reflects particle beam weapons, and each time it does its thing the Doctor gets to jump into the air, chanting "can't, can't, caa-ant!"
He's a real doctor, but not of any specific kind. Just a generic doctor.
Perhaps the problem lies with a limited supply. The dream giant might just not have enough world-shaking ideas to bring them to anyone else than protagonists. I'm more like Q's helpers, the kind who blow themselves up, and my kind might only qualify for the fishbulbs and Grassy the talking lawn.
UPDATE 29/6/2006: Today I learned about Head's Canting Academy.