In a revelation that has sent ripples through the marine biology community and perhaps a few midnight shockwaves through aquariums everywhere, scientists have discovered that octopuses may, in fact, experience dreams. Yes, octopuses, those hyper-intelligent squishy enigmas of the deep, apparently aren’t just changing colors for camouflage or as a subtle protest against poor lighting conditions, they might be doing it while they sleep.
A recent study out of the Federal University of Rio Grande do Norte in Brazil trained its lens, or perhaps more accurately its underwater dream microscope, on the common octopus, Octopus vulgaris. Researchers observed two distinct sleep states that occur in patterns, one being a quiet rest phase and the other a more active state that included rapid eye movement, twitching suckers, and dramatic shifts in skin coloration. If it sounds suspiciously like REM sleep in humans, that’s because it is suspiciously like REM sleep in humans.
The study, published in the journal iScience (an appropriate name for a publication that makes animals more relatable than most dating apps), suggests this active phase could be the invertebrate version of dreaming. While we admittedly cannot ask the octopuses what exactly they are dreaming about, as their languages involve far too many arms and far too few vowels, researchers hypothesize that their dreams could involve reliving past events, such as memorable crab chases or especially baffling encounters with plastic bottles.
The idea that octopuses might dream is significant because it raises questions about the evolution of sleep and cognition. Until recently, dreaming was considered the fever dream of mammals and perhaps a few ambitious birds. Yet here we are, discovering that a spineless, beaked sea creature might be running nightly film festivals in its own head. The researchers note that the complexity of these behaviors indicates an unexpected neurological sophistication, a phrase that in scientific circles is basically code for “we’re kind of freaking out about this.”
To add an extra splash of sci-fi flair, the octopuses’ changing skin patterns during sleep might even serve as an outward manifestation of their dream narratives, like a mood ring crossed with a lava lamp, but with a PhD in neurology.
“If they are dreaming, they are dreaming visually, which is fascinating,” said Sidarta Ribeiro, a neuroscientist and lead author of the study. “It may mean they can replay and possibly learn during sleep.”
In other words, while we spend our sleep hours untangling metaphors and arguing with our high school math teacher in a volcano, octopuses may be honing their hunter instincts and dreaming up better strategies to evade hungry predators or annoyed researchers with suction cups.
So the next time you look at an octopus behind that aquarium glass and see its skin flicker through a kaleidoscope of textures and hues, just remember it might not be showing off. It might be deep into act two of a dream opera where it conquers Atlantis and turns the wreck of the Titanic into a trendy loft.
Turns out the ocean isn’t the only thing with depth.