Nighttime Ghoulies

It was unusually frosty this morning.  Not outdoors.  Indoors.  In the bedroom.  In the kitchen.  Over my Cornflakes.

Now, lack of chat in our house is quite normal at breakfast time.  It takes us a while to wake even after we’ve risen.  Little S hasn’t inherited our inability to talk first thing in the morning, she sings, laughs and chirps away without a care in the world but Mummy and Daddy are technically only conscious because they are out of bed.

This morning though the quiet wasn’t tiredness-induced, it was deliberate.  Even from my murky coma, I could tell something was up.  The silence hurt my ears.

“I had some odd dreams last night” I said attempting to crack the permafrost.

‘Yes, I bet you did.  Like clambering across the bed in the middle of the night.’

“I’m sorry.  What?”

I wondered where this was going. 

‘Oh, you were sound asleep.  You were oblivious to the fact that you were using me a climbing frame.  And when I asked you what you were doing, you said it was all right, there was nothing to worry about, you were just checking that your prickly tee-shirt was safe.’

Although it sounded utterly implausible behaviour for a man of my sound mental state, I couldn’t argue with her.

‘It’s all very well you getting up in your sleep but do you have to dangle you bits all over me when you do it?

I had to admit it didn’t sound very appealing.

Comments

[Rob]

ha :D I dont think I've managed that in my sleep...yet.