Doozy of a Dream

I very rarely remember my dreams, and usually when I do, it’s just a few very vague bits that fade almost immediately upon waking up.

Last night, though, I had something of a doozy. I was living with my parents and brother in this apartment, and we were all a good decade or two younger…or at least, Kevin and I were in our teens, I think. I had an idea for a photo I wanted to try to shoot, but Kevin was being a pain-in-the-butt little brother, and was hogging all the photo equipment. I couldn’t get any of the pieces I needed for what I wanted to do, and I knew that he was just doing it to get under my skin. I was getting madder and madder, until I burst out, “Find something else to do…!”

And blinked, and realized that I was awake, and I’d actually just said that. Out loud. Not only had I talked in my sleep, but I’d been loud enough that I’d managed to wake myself up doing it. Even better, with the peculiar logic of the half-awake, I was then even more ticked off at Kevin for making me wake myself up.

Meanwhile, poor Prairie, who’d apparently already been having a bit of a nightmare, had just been awakened at the scariest part of her dream by her boyfriend yelling at her to “find something else to do,” for no apparent reason whatsoever, and was lying in bed half-awake, confused, and petrified, trying to figure out what was going on.

Of course, neither of us found out about what was going on with the other until this morning, as I had spent the next half hour calming down and drifting back to sleep, and my poor girl spent the next hour and a half doing the same thing.

In retrospect, not my finest moment.

Kinda funny, though.

Now.