I know that I dream, but I rarely remember dreaming. I used to sleep like the dead and took that quality of sleep for granted, but I've become a fitful sleeper in the last year or so. I'm too hot, I can't find a comfortable position, DH and the dog are snoring antiphonally, DH has stolen all the covers, or the raccoon babies are chittering to their mother over my head. Something delays sleep. So, when I finally drop off, I hope it's for the night, and that there aren't any little interruptions.
Wednesday night I'd managed to get to sleep around 10:00, which is early. I tossed and turned a bit, and finally settled down. Around 3:00 my eyes shot open and I zipped right out of bed, SURE that there was a snake slithering up the bed.
I stumbled into the bathroom muttering to myself that I KNEW there wasn't any snake, that it had just been a dream. I walked back to the bed and gingerly picked up my pillow and shook it, so that any visitors would fall out.
I simply couldn't persuade myself to get back into the bed. So, I took my pillow to the guest room and settled in for the rest of the night. I told DH when he kissed me goodbye the next morning that it wasn't anything he'd done, it was just the snake.
I had a haircut this morning, and the stylist knows my husband. I told her the story about the "snake" in my bed. Her only question was, "Why didn't you make DH get out of bed, too?"
Ya know.....I never thought of that.