Sometimes It Really Is The Russians
Usually when Chris talks in his sleep, he’s unnaturally coherent. I can hear every word he says, clear as a bell, even if they don’t actually make sense the way he’s put them together. And when I try to figure out what he means by asking him follow-up questions, he becomes very critical of my apparent lack of intelligence.
So I’ve learned to just talk to him during those times as though everything he says is perfectly logical. “Yes, dear, I think it must be the Russians, too.”
On occasion, however, Chris will mumble and make noises that sound like he’s panicking and having an awful nightmare. Last night was one of those times, and after hearing him moan and whisper, I shook him awake.
Some of the more regular readers of this blog may suspect that I did so only for my own amusement, but the truth is that sometimes I have terrible dreams; the kind of dreams that make me hope someone will wake me up soon. So I wanted to get him out of whatever was bothering him.
“Are you having a bad dream?” I said.
He turned over slowly. “Yeah, I was a ghost chasing my murderers.”
Before I could think, I said, “Again?”
Not, “It’s okay, it was just a bad dream.” Not, “Tell me more about it.” And not even, “I think you have unresolved feelings about your parents.”
Instead, my first instinct as a wife and partner was to be disgruntled because he had already been a ghost and chased his murderers for revenge on previous nights. Frankly, I’m surprised I didn’t just ask him to add a soundtrack and some clowns next time.
Posted by: ssjane | December 17, 2006 | 12:49 am
Posted in: Bits