All I Have To Do Is Dream
Apparently I giggle when I sleep. Tense with a headache and too exhausted to do much else, I fell asleep while getting my neck massaged and ended up time traveling again. This time I went a mere two hours into the future with my friends to attend a dinner party, and as we waited for the food we watched a gray-striped kitten hang upside down from a ceiling fan like some circus performer. I giggled myself half-awake at the kitten’s antics and suddenly heard an amused voice intrude:
“Even asleep, you’re the most entertaining woman I’ve ever been with.”
This is not necessarily a compliment since, apparently, I also fart in my sleep—which we all know can be very entertaining.
But anyway, I allowed myself to wake up a little more to ask for an explanation and was treated to a description of my sleeping habits—how I talk about things that don’t make sense, how I snore like the cat, and how upset I get if anyone I know does anything bad in one of my dreams.
“Don’t you ever jump off the balcony again. You nearly scared me to death, and I had to call 911!”
“No, you didn’t.”
“Yes, I did. You weren’t moving!“
“No, you didn’t, you freak. You were dreaming. Remember? My jumping off the balcony and your calling 911—it was all a dream.”
“Yeah, but still! Don’t you ever jump off the balcony like that again.”
Exasperated sigh. “Yes, dear.”
Anyway, it seems that one can have lengthy conversations with me while I’m asleep. The conversations make absolutely no sense to those awake, but I can always be counted on to respond as though everything was perfectly normal. I have never in my life gone so far as calling someone in the middle of the night to argue with them while sleeping, but I’m almost certain I’ve had some interesting heart-to-hearts. Makes me glad I don’t sleepwalk. I can just imagine the sort of trouble I’d get myself into if I did that on top of everything else.
“Don’t you ever jump off the balcony again. You nearly scared me to death, and I had to call 911!”
“No, you didn’t. You were flying down to my time machine so you could invent the baseball bat before I could, weren’t you.”
“What? What in the hell are you talking about?”
“Just let the poor cat do her tricks on the ceiling fan, why don’t you? Dinner won’t be ready for another two minutes.”
“Oh, God. You’re asleep again, aren’t you?”
“Want to see me fly?”
“Ohhhh, man.”
Yeah, definitely. Thank God I don’t sleepwalk.
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5 thoughts on “All I Have To Do Is Dream”
Now that’s entertainment!
I could ocasionally respond to my brother the rare times he would talk in his sleep.
He would buy it and continue talking as long as the conversation was within the context of what ever he was dreaming about. (the challenge for me was to figure out what he was talking about) Once I said something confusing to him, like "What time is it?" or There’s a lobster in your shoe", he’d stop sleep-talking.
My greatest achivement was squirting him (in his dream) with the hose. He said something about telling Mom before he ended the conversation.
Rare Treats!
dont know if i sleep talk, read the fartin blog, that was the sweetest fart(well ummm… ahhh… Ive ever smelt,heard).
and abt my dreams less said the better. crazy ones , real crazy.
Ofcourse some are real special….. 😉
I try to do that with Chris. If I feel him stir in his sleep, I say something to get him to reply. Doesn’t always work; very often he grunts and turns on his side, but occasionally I have gotten a couple of amusing replies that made no sense whatsoever.
I do that with Chris. When I feel him stir in his sleep — (and if I am wide awake and bored, and in need of amusement) — I try to say something to him to see if he responds. It doesn’t always work; very often he grunts and turns a side, but a couple of times he’s mumbled something that was so out of context, it was amusing.
April! Wake up, April! I fell while sleepwalking, and need you to call 911!
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