People watching is an art form. It requires dedication if not intoxication. You sir are a master craftsman, a black belt in voyeurism, a creator of merciless mirth. Stay out of my local, I’m concerned that you’d have yourself one hell of a field day. (Jimmy Bastard)
Sleeping sweetly, snoring probably, dreaming of nonsense that I can’t remember. Oh blissful slumber. Ineffably fabulous, frustratingly rare.
Poke, poke, poke.
Dream interrupted, rudely awakened by relentless poking, delivered to my ribs with surgical precision. My wife, still asleep, has some nonsense to say.
“What?” I ask, swatting her hand away from me.
“If you like,” she said, “you can sleep in that corner and I’ll sleep in this corner or,” she offered kindly, “I’ll sleep in that corner and you can sleep in this one.”
“I’m fine where I am,” I said, “but thanks anyway.”
Sleeping sweetly, snoring probably, dreaming of nonsense that I can’t remember. Oh blissful slumber. Ineffably fabulous, frustratingly rare.
Poke, poke, poke.
Dream interrupted, rudely awakened by relentless poking, delivered to my ribs with surgical precision. My wife, still asleep, has some nonsense to say.
“What?” I ask, swatting her hand away from me.
“If you like,” she said, “you can sleep in that corner and I’ll sleep in this corner or,” she offered kindly, “I’ll sleep in that corner and you can sleep in this one.”
“I’m fine where I am,” I said, “but thanks anyway.”
Oh, the ceaseless poking that is life. The tragedy of being awakened – and constantly – from ineffably fabulous slumber and delectable dreams. The relegation to particular corners of reality. Short and sweet (I think), as always. Thanks, Mr. Mo. Happy Monday.
I often find myself dreaming about falling. Generally I awake to find Joe mostly on my side of the bed, me hanging off the side, and the cat taking up the entire other half of the bed. How does that itty bitty kitty take up so much space? I never did excel at physics. (Hell, I don’t even know if physics is the applicable science at which I failed on this one.)
Wait….no…..you can’t have been married long enough to have corners already. (getting out my calculator) That’s not supposed to happen for (clicking madly)……10 or 15 years from now.
She was being quite kind – usually when I poke my husband in the middle of the night, it’s to suggest he roll over on his side before I stuff a sock in his (loudly snoring) mouth.
I fell asleep (read: passed out) on a friends couch this weekend and was riped from my sleep by the sounds of a freight train (read: snoring random guy sleeping on the floor…in the corner).
Ahhhh, a sleep-talker. I used to be married to a sleep-arguement-starter. He’d sit up in the middle of the night and start shouting about nonsense, blaming me for things and accusing me of crimes, and I’d tell him to shut up and go back to sleep because he was just dreaming. He’d start arguing with me and then fall asleep mid-yell, leaving me awake, wondering what on Earth was wrong with him. In the morning he’d have no memory of any of it.
See, at least your wife isn’t starting fights with you in her sleep, right?
Soda and Candy
January 18, 2010
Aww.
I confess I have jabbed my husband in his sleep (I was awake) but only lightly and only to stop him snoring.
Thank god your wife is not a teacher teaching some annoyng kids and dreaming about them at night as I once was – I kicked my darling’s shin with all the strength I could put together,he woke up in laughter, though, I guess night weakens me.
Oh you deserve it all right, and much worse too, for disturbing the sleep of Mrs S. That’s why we have a spare room where I banish M. DeFarge. You’re all the same you men.
My wife usually wakes me up with ‘Harder, Pablo, harder!’.
And I’m not called Pablo, so consider yourself lucky
jadej
January 18, 2010
Yes.
I deserve it, I am told…so, you deserve it.
ALL husbands deserve it. It is revenge for the snake and apple thing. They wanted that damned apple, we have made them feel guilty for it for eons. Ergo, we get poked…in the night…for eternity.
I always talk in my sleep. I’m terrified of letting some deformed cat out of the bag, so to speak.
The poking though would result in injury. I do NOT like to be woken up…ever. Unless this poking is of a different nature, and even that is hit and miss.
I end up leaving our bed nearly every night in search of sleep because my husband snores like a freight train. Poking doesn’t help – he’s hopeless. Sigh!
Being a woman it would be illegal of me to answer your question until I had your wife’s point of view… I feel it might be similar to the comment above mine???
LOL! I love that your wife speaks nonsense in her sleep. Ant does a little snoring here and there, but I am completely used to it now. I suppose that it’s all just part of the white noise that helps me sleep comfortably.
I do hate being wakened from a deep sleep though. It’s one of the main reasons as to why I get up 2 hours before everyone else..the kids won’t be able to wake me up. One night, I was having the most glorious sleep. Suddenly someone in my dream started saying “Mom, mom” relentlessly. I could feel myself going through curtains of sleep, but I would shrug it off and race back to my dream. “Mom, mom” the person would relentlessly say to me. Until finally I could feel that I was drooling and my brain felt numb. It felt like weeks to pry my eyes open, to see which one was shaking me. Of course you can never go back to that kind of sleep, after your scared kid wakes you up.
Relationships would be so much easier if only we could shut our ears when we shut our eyes to sleep.
anandagirl
January 22, 2010
Ha! I used to snore. I used to have sleep apnea. You might want to check it out. It makes a wonderful difference in the quality of your sleep and waking hours if you have it and get it seen to. Make the woman happy.
AHAHAHAHAHA! I love it! Your wife is much kinder to you than I am to my hubby…I elbow and kick him until he rolls over. Once he accidentally fell out of bed in his snoring slumber trying to avoid my elbows and feet. Now when I elbow and kick him, he immediately removes himself to the guest room. Poor guy.