Over the past couple months it seems I’ve taken up sleepwalking and sleeptalking. Sometimes I think Yo-Nenny’s gaslighting me with her reports of my nocturnal conversations, yet they ring true.
Several nights ago at about midnight, I was sound asleep with Emmy cradled in the crook of my arm. As her mother reached to remove her, apparently I said: “Nooooo. You can’t take her. I was just teaching her the first conditional. She understands it almost perfectly. It’s just that she can’t talk. I need to give her a quiz. Nobody loves me.”
Early this morning I got the following e-mail from Yo-Nenny.
Hot off the presses! Just a few minutes ago this happened. After you woke up and found me in the other room, you said the following as you wandered through the house (the below is transcribed from the notes I hastily scribbled all over my hand as I trailed after you):
“I was trying to give you your quiz but then you went away. You seemed to be getting it but then you didn’t answer me. You need to finish the quiz because I know you know the words. I’m giving you an extra ten minutes but I want the quiz done. Wait. I’m vewy vewy vewy confused. ALL I WANT IS THE WORDS IN CONTEXT. OK, I’m giving you five minutes. Then Emmy and I will grade you. She consulted with me on the whole thing. She’s very good at this.”
There’s nothing subtle about the way my worries appear in my dreams these days. Of even more concern is the way my dreams have gone mobile.
