Dream Weaver

March 2, 2012

I had a terrible dream last night in which my generally appealing husband did some awful, terribly shameful things. I woke up in shambles feeling betrayed, disrespected and taken for granted, not to mention tired.  As I opened my eyes, there he was PRETENDING to be fast asleep (possums do that you know).  Not for long though, for I prodded him and shook him until he opened his eyes.  “I had a nightmare last night and you were awful to me!  You were very, very bad!  I couldn’t believe you would do such things!”  “Wha??? Wha??? Why are you shaking me?  What’s wrong?” he pathetically croaked.   I stormed out of the room to the coffee maker as I trailed a disgusted, “I can’t believe you!  Please get your own coffee.”  I pouted and presented a frosty shoulder all morning as hazy visions of the previous night’s script played over and over in my head.  I fixed my own coffee with yummy frothed milk and nutmeg on top just the way he likes his and breezed past him waving it under his nose as I floated by with my nose in the air.  He treaded lightly, for he has experience with the terrain here. “ I am sorry about your dream, but I don’t know…”   “Oh it is clear to me that I would not dream such things unless you planted some seed of suspicion.  You must be up to something that you are ashamed of or I wouldn’t be picking up on it.  What are you up to?  Is there something you need to tell me?”  He rubbed the sleep from his eyes.  “I don’t know what you are talking about.  I just woke up.”   “Well how nice for you, I snapped. “ I feel like I didn’t sleep a wink I am so upset.”   He weighed his next response carefully before he parted his lips.  “What did I do in the dream?  I am sorry but I do not know what you are talking about.”  He slithered out of the bed and started towards me.  I glared at him.  “I really don’t want to discuss it right now.  I have to go to Pilates.  I need to stretch…maybe that will help.”  I quickly pulled on my standard black leggings and top, departed with a nutmeg latte and a stiff attitude in hand, and spent the next hour relieving the tension that my thoughtless, clearly selfish spouse had created in my soul.


One Response to “Dream Weaver”

  1. Desiree Ledet said


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