Sometimes B sings in his sleep. Sometimes he giggles. Sometimes he talks. Early this morning in bed, long before the alarm and the sunrise, B said loudly, “Get your donut and take it to the donut station to add colors. There’s a robot on the corner.”

“What?” I asked in a loud whisper.

He rolls over toward me and asked, “Is everything okay?”

I replied, “Yeah, everything’s okay. You said we have donuts?”

“No, sorry that was in my dream.” Then snore.

I turned to my side and stared at him waiting for something else. I wanted to hear more about the donut-decorating robot, but what he said was, “14,” followed by, “Let’s take the van.”

Snore.

Then he said, “We only go there for the 23 screaming babies. Now. Now…See.”

I’m not sure what sort of dream he was living in, but I’m sure that I don’t want to go anywhere there are 23 screaming babies. Let’s get back to the robot and donuts, please.

DREAM A LITTLE DREAM OF ME.

A few days later it was the morning of the 23rd anniversary of our honeymoon. After the alarm went off this morning, I rolled toward B and said, “I had a dream about you last night. We were friends and roommates. You were engaged to someone who lived in Australia, and you were working out how to get her here. You talked all the time on FaceTime and Skype, and then all of a sudden you stopped talking to her. In my dream, I was wondering what was going on, so I started asking you. I wanted to know if you were still going to get married because I didn’t want you to. I was in love with you.”

Then B said, “I stopped talking to her because I was in love with you.”

“That’s exactly what you said in my dream.” Awww.

(It’s okay if it’s giving you a cavity.)