Talking in My Sleep Again

Friday night. 11 P.M. and El Hubbo will not come to bed with me. He’s not tired. Princess Fuzzybutt’s eyes and mine are at half-mast, so I take her out to pee-pot and tee-tom one last time, then we go upstairs together.

“Up,” I say.

Her highness jumps onto the bed, does her nesting dance, turns around three times and promptly drops off to DoggieDreamland.

I am asleep almost as quickly.

At 1 A.M. a friend runs into our bedroom and hides under the bed. He whispers, “Don’t tell him I’m in here! I want to surprise him!”

El Hubbo walks in a split second later. I stop him.
“Stand there for one second.”

El Hubbo looks confused.

“Okay, you can come out now.”

“Honey, who are you talking to?”

“There’s someone under the bed.”

“No there isn’t.”

“Yes there is, come look!”

El Hubbo thinks it over and decides to humor me. He walks around to my side of the bed, bends over and lifts the dust ruffle.

“There’s no one here. You’re asleep.”

“What? I swear that someone came in here!”

“You’re asleep, honey.”

“Okay. Sorry.”

At 3 A.M. I wake up screaming because the same guy just jumped on our bed.

“What!?! Jesusgawd you scared the crap outta me!”

Princess Fuzzybutt is also on full alert, hackles raised and growling.

“Someone jumped on us!”

“You’re asleep again!”

“I am?”

“Yes. Lie down and go back to sleep.”

“Okay. Sorry.”

At 5 A.M. I’m having a conversation with El Hubbo but he just doesn’t get it. We need to open the window to let the spiders get out. He just doesn’t get it.

“I’m going to the guest room.”

“Why?”

“Because you keep talking to me in your sleep and I’m trying to sleep.”

“Okay. Sorry.”

“Goodnight honey, I love you.”

“Okay babe. Just make sure the spiders get out of here first.”

I had an instance where my roommate (shared a 1 bedroom, different beds) walked in to find me mumbling…

rubes: I need a moppy poo

roomy: What

rubes: Need moppy poo

roomy: What do you need a moppy poo for?

rubes: I’m cold, need a moppy poo.

roomy: Oh, you mean blanky-poo

rubes: yeah, moppy poo.

The only way I can explain what might have been going on, was
a) I was a janitor
b) the cute girl I worked with I called Pooh
c) I had been drinking

I think the combination of the above somehow made my synapses fire in odd order

ROTHLMAO!!!

My husband has me roofing with him in his sleep. Funny as hell!
He once tried to sue me over a pillow that I wouldn’t give up.
“Give me the pillow, I had it first and you have your own!”
“Um, honey I don’t have your pillow!?”
“Yes, I saw you take it and you are keeping it from me, if you don’t give it back I am going to sue you and you will never have a pillow again.”
“Okay dear, let’s settle out of court. Here’s your pillow.”
“I knew you would see it my way”

I should NOT read SDMB at work…I’m giggling like a fool.

When I was in college, I worked for a few months as a telemarketer, and I had to wear a headset. I sold credit card insurance.

I had two roommates, one room, three beds, and I liked to have music playing while I slept, therefore I wore headphones so I wouldn’t bother Jill and Katie.

So there I am one night, sleeping soundly with my headphones on, but Jill and Katie were awake watching TV or something. I guess the cord from the headphones became wrapped around my neck or something, because Katie came over and took them off me, at which point I said, “No! No! I was about to make a sale!” The sound of gales of laughter awoke me.

I think I quit shortly after that…

Did your husband ask why you were having fantasies about this guy in your bedroom? Hmmmm. If I were him I’d get in the habit of looking under your bed! Just in case.

On further reflection, I think I’ll try this on Mrs. Pluto. I’ll tell her there is a strange woman under our bed a couple of times a week until she stops believing me. Then I’ll really sneak a strange woman under the bed and she (Mrs. P.) won’t believe it and she (strange woman) can sleep under the bed all night!! Woohoo!

Now if I could only find a strange woman. Oh wait. This is the SDMB. No problemo!

Well, I’m not sure if I talk in my sleep. But a week ago I woke up under the bed with the pillow halfway across the room and the pillowcase wrapped around my arm. It must have been one hell of a dream, I wish I could remember it.

pluto, pluto, pluto…

You’re still my favorite Doper, but watch it!

Funny–last weekend I demanded that Mr. Rilch get his pet mouse (which of course doesn’t exist) out of the bedroom before he chewed through an electrical cord. Says it took him two hours to get back to sleep. Luckily he didn’t have to work the next day.