Dreamy conversation

29 06 2003

George talks in his sleep. Early in our marriage I discovered I could ask him questions, and he would answer. I realized this could potentially backfire on me, but only once did he say something that upset me. And when I confronted him about it the next day, he came up with a pretty good cover. I wasn’t satisfied, but decided to let it go. After all, I was the one intruding into his dreams. Oh well. No use dredging up that old conflict, which is long ago forgiven and *ahem* forgotten.

One night during the first year we were married, he was lying on his side with his back to me, and I could hear him saying something. His words were a little muffled, but from what I could understand, it sounded quite interesting. So I asked, “What did you say?”

He repeated himself, but I still couldn’t understand him. So I said, “What was that again?”

At this point, he rolled over and faced me. His eyes were closed. He was still asleep.

“I SAID,” he began, speaking very clearly, “Jack be quick, Jack be slow, Jack decided he just wouldn’t go.”

He rolled back over.

“That is not either what you said!” And it wasn’t. But he wouldn’t answer me again. And the next morning, he didn’t remember the conversation. Or so he claimed.

I don’t ask him questions much anymore when he talks in his sleep. It’s not that I learned my lesson. It’s just that most of the things he says sound like a biology lecture for a college class. Gimme a break! That will just put me to sleep.



5 responses

29 06 2003

Night of the One Ended Conversations …

My roomate and I both apparently had interesting dream chats. My roomate Trey would often chastise his sister for borrowing his car without asking. Then one night I heard him yell out “HEY! HEY! HEY! HEY! (pause) Unh Unh!”
I laughed and said “Trey?”
“WHAT?” he repilied gruffly.
“Do you know what you just said?”
The only reply was a loud snore.

Another morning, Trey mentioned to me that I’d been quite conversant in my sleep the prior night. Apparently I’d called to him in my sleep, asking if he saw what I saw …
“What’s that?” he asked.
“A wicker pattern on the ceiling, it’s kinda scary!”
When probed for more detail, I was apparently non responsive. Another morning he asked if I’d taken much Spanish. Apperently I was trilling my R’s like a native of Iberia. For the record, I had one section of High School Spanish … that’s about it.

Pleasant dreams … and conversational nights.

30 06 2003

Can you wash out a kid’s mouth for dream cussing?

That’s so funny! I love stuff like that. I laughed when George said his little poem about Jack. He has amused me many times, but I can’t recall him ever using foreign accents or speech patterns.

I’m sorry the wicker pattern scared you. That does sound rather horrifying. ;o)

When I was an elementary school kid, one of my best friends lived behind us. Her dad, who was a welder, was very fond of using the word “damn” as an adjective to describe just about anything. One night in my dream, he was talking about some man and kept referring to him as that damn man. I asked, “What damn man?” but he kept talking as though he couldn’t hear me. I asked again, louder. He ignored me. I kept asking until I was shouting the question. The next morning, my sister said, “What were you dreaming last night? You won’t believe what you were yelling in your sleep!”

30 06 2003

Only if you use dream soap…

LOL!! That is SOOOO FUNNY!!! I can’t imagine some of the things that I must say in my slumber.

Hopefully it isn’t too bad. In a moment of duress some years back, I … OK let me set this up first.

I, in the past when I had more time, did a great deal of work for the Local Land Trust. I helped build and maintain trails and led hikes and so forth.

On one of these particular trail maintenance days, we were spreading mulch on part of the trail that was particularly prone to erosion. I was happily breaking up the mulch with a pitch fork and not paying particularly close attention to where I was putting my pitchfork … as fate would have it, one of the tines of the errant pitchfork found my big toe.

Being that there were children present, and not all of them the hard bitten street wise kids from 3 Springs, I was momentarily worried about what members of Webster’s Rogues Gallery might escape my momentarily disabled lips! Fortunately, in that moment of pain and fear, pain and fear, all that I could manage was: “OWWW!!!!” Followed by several of “OWWW’S” diminuitive friends. Oddly enough, I still managed to hop around on the goodfoot. Thankfully, the virgin ears of the youngsters were spared the evils of the English Language.

It least your nocturnal expulsions were in the spirit of seeking to understand, giggle.

30 06 2003

I have a great story about luke talking in his sleep!
Maybe I should tell you sometime! Ask me!…I really don’t think Luke will mind…

5 07 2003

he won’t mind, but he might be forced to thwack you!


Your comments are a gift. Please know I read each one with gratitude.

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )


Connecting to %s

%d bloggers like this: