Domestic Psychology

She said: I need a blanket

// February 27th, 2009 // Doug, marriage, me, sleep

Last night, Doug and I had two children AND two dogs in our bed. We were packed in the bed like Charlie Bucket’s grandparents IF they had added two small horses to their overcrowded bed. I was relegated to a tiny space on the edge of the bed and pinned down by 100+ pounds of German Shepherd. Eventually, I nodded off to sleep.

I usually forget my dreams shortly after waking. I only remember bits and pieces. The only thing I remember about my dream last night is the bees. A few ordinary bees were buzzing about the room, but there was also a jar of bees. The bees in the jar were getting larger by the second and I was so increasingly panicked by the impending escape of the mutant bees that I woke myself up, swinging my arms wildly to keep the bees away from me. Except, I wasn’t really awake at all. I was frantically trying to pull the covers over myself to hide from the bees when the children and dogs had claimed all the covers. I cursed like a sailor and begged for a blanket. At some point, I realized there were no bees, but I was still unable to focus on anything except the dog pinning me down and my need for a blanket. I was aware that Doug was out of bed, seeking a blanket, but in my mind, he was moving in slow motion and mumbling to himself that I should get my own *&%# blanket. Doug tossed the blanket on me and grumbled at the dogs to move over while I hid under the blanket and uncharacteristically fell back into a deep slumber.

I would claim that I wasn’t awake for any of my bad behavior, except I remember the entire incident vividly. I apologize for the bizarre stream of profanities, but someone needs to be faster with the blanket when I’m being attacked by bees dagnabit.