I talk in my sleep.
Sometimes I wake Mike up, and have a whole conversation with him before one or both of us realizes I’m sleeping, and
we I have a good laugh, and we go back to sleep.
I rarely remember what I said. I usually just wake up in the morning with a vague recollection of having been awake, and laughing about something, or Mike asking me some follow-up questions, and then he gets to tell me what happened.
On extremely rare occasions (like, I can count the number of times it’s happened on one hand), I get out of bed, or I sit up, or I throw something, etc. before I realize I’m dreaming.
Unfortunately for Mike, last night, was one of those nights.
I woke up this morning, with the vague memory I’d tried to explain something to Mike, but was doing a terrible job getting my point across. Mike was already in the shower, so I went into our bathroom for confirmation.
“Do you remember what you did to me last night?” he asked me, right away.
“I remember trying to tell you something, and laughing,” I said. “Was it bad?”
“Well, at 2 a.m., I woke up, because you reached over and pulled my hand toward you and said, ‘The baby needs string!’ And when I was like, ‘huh?!’ you said, ‘The baby needs string. For the MACHINE.'”
“I asked you if you were asleep, and you just started laughing and said, ‘Yes. AND SO ARE YOU!’ and then you let go of my hand, and went back to sleep.”
Just take a second and imagine you’re sound asleep, and someone sloowwwwwly takes your hand and starts pulling it towards them.
My poor husband. Good thing he has a sense of humor, and knows what to expect after all these years.