The Dreaming of the Shrew

: Tracy Beckerman on

"You were talking in your sleep last night," I said to my husband when he stumbled into the kitchen that morning. I handed him a cup of espresso to jolt him out of his coma.

"No, I wasn't," he said.

"How would you know?" I said. "You were asleep. I was not asleep ... because you were talking in your sleep."

"I don't talk in my sleep," he said as he sat down at the table. The dog came over for a scratch behind the ears or maybe just to take my husband's side.

"Well, you did last night," I said. "And you were very adamant about it."

Now my husband was interested. I'm sure he thought he had perhaps divulged some husband secret from deep within his subconscious, like the fact that he purposely hangs the toilet paper the wrong way just to make me crazy.


"What did I say?" he asked.

"Begone," I replied.

"I said 'begone'?" he repeated.



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