I talk in my sleep. Since I was a little kid, I have talked out my dreams. The most memorable story comes from my childhood that I was directing a band, bossing everyone around (shocking, I know). I’ve called cats in my sleep and rambled about nothing at all.
When we were first married, K would be able to tell which kids were in trouble at school by who I yelled at in my sleep. As the years wore on, I would conduct storytime while sound asleep. Always when these instances were relayed to me they were amusing.
Last night I was apparently dropping the f-bomb. K was laughing as he recounted the incident and was unable to offer a frame of reference for my rant (most of you know I am not a stranger to colorful language) but he was highly amused. Honestly, I don’t remember the corresponding dream but I sure wish I could because it had to have been a doozy!