I turn out the light and Dave rolls over reaching for my arm.
"So," he says touching my elbow. "How are things going for you guys?"
Guys? Since when am I plural? Hmm ... I think. This sleep talking thing has been going on for a year but it's never been interactive. Maybe I should check that out. Maybe he's dreaming about the next day when we'd see some friends at another friend's wedding? But before I can say anything he interrupts me.
"I don't mean personally. I mean with the load."
Ah. He's dreaming about work where he manages semi-truck drivers.
"What load?" I respond.
"I don't know. Maybe I'm too tired to ask this question. Maybe I should ask you tomorrow."
I search for another response when he starts in again ...
"Really good, thanks for asking. Things are great with me and my wife."
That's happy, I think. Even unconscious he's happy with our marriage.
"What time will you arrive with the load?"
"10," I say, searching my brain for a number.
"And what time is it due again?"
"11." If I'm going to play truck driver, I might as well be a really punctual one.
"Great. Sounds good to meeeeeeee," his drags out the word in a tired sing-song voice."Maybe I'm too tired to ask this question. Maybe I should ask you tomorrow. But it was really important I know before I go to bed for some reason."
I wonder what else I can get out of his subconcious.
"So, what's your favorite thing about your wife?" I ask.
"There's so many things!" he says enthusiastically. "How could I choose just one?"
"Do you know who you are talking to?" I am suspicious from his last answer he is starting to wake up. "Who am I?"
"You are ... You are Brooke," he says somewhat uncertainly.
"Yes. So why are talking to me like a truck driver?"
"Because you drive a truck."
"No I don't."
"Have you ever considered switching vocations?"