Monday, June 18, 2012

Dreaming

I am a very strange sleeper. Very strange. Please accept this blanket apology for anyone out there who has ever shared a room with me, for any period of time.

Growing up, my sister dreaded sharing a room with me on vacation, and my cousin Jen, refused to do so.

I was extraordinarily lucky to have the world's most amazing college roommate (and best friend) for 4 years, who was an incredible friend, otherwise nobody would have put up with my weird sleep talking.

And now, fortunately, my husband finds it hilarious, instead of scary.

Yes, I'm a sleep talker. I don't do it every day. I don't just mumble and grumble. No, consistently, for my whole life, I have screamed angry and upset words in my sleep.

Now, keep in mind, I am not an angry person. I would say I'm quite happy. I rarely swear, I love my life, I have an amazing family, but somehow, I'm an angry sleep talker, and I swear like a sailor in my sleep.

Case in point (as told to me the next morning by Jeremy): Thursday night. I fall asleep. It is the middle of the night. I sit up, start shaking Jeremy to wake him up and scream. Scream as loud as I can, "HE POOPED....LOOK...HE POOPED", as I point to our previously sound asleep dog, Stanley.

Stanley looks up at Jeremy, completely puzzled, and then flops his head back on the bed as if to say, "She's lost her mind. I did not poop in the bed". 

And he would be correct, Stanley did not poop in the bed. Nor did anyone else, thankfully.

Jeremy looks back over to find me back to sleep, sound asleep on my pillow. And, he is left completely awake, confused, perplexed.

I told you I was a strange sleeper.

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