So it appears that the same clause in the Boyfriend/Husband contract that excuses Phil from getting up in the middle of the night to check the house for my dream aliens, also excuses me from being charged with spousal abuse when I attack him in my sleep.
Phil is currently walking around nursing cat-like gashes on his stomach, after I woke up in the middle of the night to see a man standing over our bed, coming closer to us with his hands out in attack-mode. I hurled my right arm out to Phil, who was sleeping soundly on his back, and slammed my open palm down on his stomach before clenching my hands, dragging my nails across his skin. I was shaking him with a handfull of his flesh in my iron grip screaming at him to wake up, all the while still staring at the man coming closer and closer to us.
At the moment Phil wakes up, understandably screaming like a girl, I mean responding in a deep, calm, manly voice, the image of the man standing over us vanishes into thin air.
"WHAT THE HELL...?!!" cries Phil, in obvious pain.
"Oh, I had a bad dream.... sorry..." I respond sheepishly, finally releasing my grip on Phil's intestines.
Looking back, the man standing over us was in black and white, and wearing and Indianna Jones- Temple of Doom style head dress, which should have been a tip-off. But it seemed completely real to me at the time.
So I guess the moral of the story is that you can get away with maiming your partner in the middle of the night, so long as you have a good nightmare to back it up.
Thursday, June 15, 2006
Re-reading the fine print
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7 comments:
What a hoot! I laughed out loud after I got over my initial scare. Great story. I found you through Blogging Chicks.
Great to see you here, and glad you dropped by!
yes... I remember sharing a room with you. I guess I was lucky that I didn't have to share a bed with you!! :)
Ouch, he sounds very understanding!
Found you on Wendy Wings' Blogroll.
Liz: Do you remember when we were kids and we used to go under the covers and go "mining" in the ends of our beds? Simple pleasures....
Waya: I know what you mean, I consider myself a pacifist and yet these dreams are truly psychotic! I once dreamed that I had my head cut off and spent the rest of the dream walking around with it under my arm, trying to find a surgeon to sew it back on, before eventually putting my own head in the freezer to stop it spoiling in the heat.
This is not the first time I've attacked Phil in one way or another. On the other hand, he's rolled his elbows into my head a few times in his sleep too, so I think we're even.
Verniciousknids: Is that a Charlie and the Great Glass Elevator reference there? LMAO Nice one! Yes he is very understanding, even more so when its not 3am!
Thanks to you and Waya for stopping by.
Certainly is - there's an explanation behind my name on my blog's sidebar if you are interested.
Wow, that's intense! My hubby's the one that freaks out when he's sleeping: the number of times I've come into bed after a gig, and he's sat bolt upright in bed and virtually yelled at me: "WHO...WHO ARE YOU?!??! WHAT???!!!"
Now it's not maiming, or indeed particularly painful, but it does freak me out, nonetheless!
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