If dreams are truly the result of our brains attempting to process information that we didn’t have time to store into synaptic boxes while we were awake, then Sic Willie must really have his mind set on some of the Colonel’s secret recipe of eleven herbs and spices.

How do we know this? He told us so … in his sleep.

In addition to sawing logs like a friggin’ Lumberjack on crack rock (and occasionally farting so loud he wakes up the entire household), it turns out our founding editor is also quite the conversational somnambulist.

For example, Mrs. Sic tells us she was rudely awakened in the middle of the night just last night by the violent arm-flapping and leg-flailing of her husband, who was evidently leading some sort of imaginary military operation, presumably against the Bojangles’ chicken forces.

“For the sweat of the Colonel!” Sic repeatedly yelled. “For the sweat of the Colonel!”

Huh? Mrs. Sic confirms that yes, he was out like a light while leading this imaginary Pickett’s chicken charge, and had absolutely no recollection of whatever the hell it was he was saying when awoken afterward.

She also confirmed that he came very close to elbowing her in the face, which she made clear “would have been his ass” in addition to a funny thing to try and explain to people.

Anyway, this is obviously not the first time Sic’s had food on the subconscious.

A few weeks ago, he kept saying “I’m feeding Shania” over and over again while he was still dead asleep, and before that it was “Biscuits and Jelly” repeated ad nauseum.

Oneirologists, we await your diagnoses of this sick, sick puppy.