“Bank? Maybe if I had the power of flight or invisibility or something..."
“What the heck? You told me last night you’d go to the bank today.”
“That doesn’t sound like something I’d say.”
“I asked you when I came upstairs to bed! I said, ‘Will you go to the bank so we can finally deposit that check,’ and you said, ‘I’LL DO IT TOMORROW.'”
“You have to stop starting conversations with me in my sleep! That’s how we end up in situations like this!”
“What, situations where you go to the bank and deposit a check so we can have money and pay rent, and also do things like not starve?"
I lose in the sleep-talking department. But dreaming is a total WIN.
Because unlike Husband, who remembers maybe one dream a year, I remember my dreams at least 3 or 4 times a week. The easiest to remember are the bizarro recurring dreams. I have about 4 recurring dreams, all of which I’ve dreamt about 193,482 times.
What’s especially awesome is that now, when I have one of these dreams, it’s like I’m watching the 3rd rerun of a mediocre television show, and it’s getting kind of old. For example:
“Oh, I know this one. Ok, first you have to fly over the building. Now’s the part where the man-eating shark-bears try to destroy your soul. But don’t worry, they don’t get around to it because you breathe fire on them, etc.”
Unfortunately, I don’t dream about man-eating-shark-bears ALL the time; that would be AWESOME. But I do have reoccurring dreams that....
1) I’m on stage for a dance recital, and I realize I haven’t been to class in about one million years. The music starts, and although I somehow know the steps, I can’t lift my leg past knee-height. I think this is somehow related to the fact that my elbows naturally hyperextend. Therefore, anytime I fall down and catch myself with my hands, I get stress fractures that prevent me from performing basic human functions like brushing my hair and eating.
I could do this. I just don’t want to.
2) After I earned my law degree, It would be found that I was 2 credits short of obtaining my high school diploma, and in order to retain my J.D. I have to go back to high school to earn the missing credits. And as if going back to high school isn’t EVERY PERSON’S WORST NIGHTMARE, I also can’t find my locker. Except now that I’ve had this dream so many times, I know that my locker is actually in the library stacks, and direct myself there post-haste.
*Note: This is actually better than when I really WAS in high school, where in the first week of each year I’d inevitably forget which locker was mine, and I’d have to go to the administrative office to find out.
Congratulations. We now bestow upon you the title of Juris Doctor.
3) Then there’s the dream where I’m flying over a city, but I have to make a quick pitstop in the ghetto, and flying down is apparently very difficult and kind of dangerous - think trapeze-artist difficult. Then I have to try to get out of the ghetto, which is kind of like jump-starting myself airborne. Also, I’m dressed sort of like batman.
$29.99 is all it takes to make my dream a reality...
In conclusion, sleep + talking = FAIL. But sleep + dreaming = WIN. Especially when you can just tell yourself what to do in the dream so it is over as quickly and painlessly as possible.