Going to bed with a dictionary means different things to different people. For most, it would be associated with a radio programme in which a celebrity or egg-head of sparkling wit and inexhaustible vocabulary also admits to reading several daily newspapers and a least one obscure novel, translated from the Russian, each month.
For me, the term has a very different connotation. It relates to the stretching out of my hand in the middle of the night and encountering something hard and unyielding … with spiky edges.
Not exactly the answer to my dreams!
Being forced (because of an invasion by the granddaughter) into using my bedroom as an office, in a spirit of laziness I frequently leave my bed unmade, simply pulling the covers over me at night, at which point I encounter paper clips, pens, notebooks and, of course my dictionary which I have forgotten to put away.
Indeed, I might as easily have said, a Thesaurus except this sounds more like some prehistoric animal and I assure you I never go to bed with a prehistoric animal unless I have drunk too much wine!