So true, Peter. My wife doesn't complain, but sometimes I wake myself when I have swung at an opponent in one of my "dream fights" and I check with my wife. She will confirm that I did in fact, kick my leg or thrust my arm. I worry that I could harm her, but I never have and she is so understanding. I am most fortunate. Thanks for your artistic and verbal talents that explain such difficulties.
Just so you know, the three thugs you should have stomped the crap out of with your matrix-like nocturnal skills. Because you didn't they paid a visit to my private space a couple of nights ago. The had learned from your encounter and were armed with hypodermic needles for my match.
I hate needles about as much as I hate snakes. Of course they knew that, which is why they brought them. The ensuing melee was historic. Right up until the wife managed to wake me, her eyes both frightened and compassionate. I had been beating the stuffing from a pillow while dodging needles. According to my wife, the scary part was my yelling/screaming. Guttural, she described it. Seriously serious.
So, like you, I didn't finish off the thugs, and they will surly visit another PD dreamer, and use what they learned from me.
4 comments:
So true, Peter. My wife doesn't complain, but sometimes I wake myself when I have swung at an opponent in one of my "dream fights" and I check with my wife. She will confirm that I did in fact, kick my leg or thrust my arm. I worry that I could harm her, but I never have and she is so understanding. I am most fortunate. Thanks for your artistic and verbal talents that explain such difficulties.
This weird disease holds nothing sacred. I hate it. But it is interesting. Thanks for your attention and feedback. Carry it on,
Peter
Just so you know, the three thugs you should have stomped the crap out of with your matrix-like nocturnal skills. Because you didn't they paid a visit to my private space a couple of nights ago. The had learned from your encounter and were armed with hypodermic needles for my match.
I hate needles about as much as I hate snakes. Of course they knew that, which is why they brought them. The ensuing melee was historic. Right up until the wife managed to wake me, her eyes both frightened and compassionate. I had been beating the stuffing from a pillow while dodging needles. According to my wife, the scary part was my yelling/screaming. Guttural, she described it. Seriously serious.
So, like you, I didn't finish off the thugs, and they will surly visit another PD dreamer, and use what they learned from me.
This sounds like a matter for the Dream Police. Why are they never around when you need them?
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