I've got nothing to write about (I've got nothing about which to write)

I figured that since I just finished reading Northrop Frye's Fools of Time, I would take a few minutes in an attempt to engage especially when it comes to the topic of 'nothing.'  Near the end of his book, Frye says, "The word 'nothing' has two meanings: it is a grammatical negative meaning 'not anything,' and it is a positive noun meaning 'something called nothing.'"  When I read this passage, as I'm sure you're you've already assumed, I was drawn back to Frederick Turner's essay "The School of Night" wherein he explains that if a scale is properly constructed (which involves manipulation of the levers and fulcrum) it can balance The Globe and nothing.  This combination, which, as Frye does, can easily be tied back to a passage from Hamlet, "The king is a thing of nothing," but instead, I want to take it in a slightly different, perhaps, if not as analytically valuable, but certainly more creative avenue.  This positive nominal structure seemed, to me, to be exactly the type of thing Hamlet would use when describing his mental state, especially, if Horatio were to ask him in act five.  I imagine that it would take him little time to come to the conclusion that "nothing" was wrong with him, that "nothing" affected his brain.  While I'm no psychologist, I think it would be safe to say that dreams seem to be a physical manifestation of various "nothings" in the brains; they are made from some things so small and so fleeting, that they could be equivocated with nothing, and when those nothings are on one side of the scale, dreams are on the other.  It seems that what ails young Hamlet, at least part of the problem (for there are certainly other aspects at play), is the dreams that his mind has concocted.  He questions whether the ghost of his father is real and he finds himself trying to put on a mask of insanity (though whether the mask is necessary is debatable).  These dreams, the illusions, or delusions seem to get Hamlet's ball rolling down the hill of madness.  I also can't help but reach back to A Midsummer Night's Dream when Thesius says: "Lovers and madmen have such seething brains, far more than pure reason could ever comprehend." (Maybe slightly misquoted, but I'm working from memory here so give me a break.)  I believe that it can be argued that we see Hamlet as both a lover and a madman, but what happens when his madness interferes with his love life?  How seething is his brain now that he had driven his lover to suicide?  What drives the brains of lovers and madmen?  If you asked Hamlet, I think he would say with confidence: "Nothing."