“ZZZZZbbbzzgt,” he snored.

My mom talks in her sleep.  I know – this really isn’t that uncommon.  But what makes her different is that she will often require you to participate in some way. 

For example, I remember being a child, sitting on the floor eating cereal with my brother and watching Saturday morning cartoons one morning, when I heard her calling for me from the bedroom.

“What?” I asked after I opened her door.

“Tell Timmy it’s time to go home,” she said groggily.

To this day, no one knows who Timmy was or where he lived.  For that matter, we don’t even know how long he’d been at our house.  I’m certain it was the imaginary Timmy that ate all the popsicles that summer.

Another time she woke me up to tell me she was drowning.  She begged me to throw her a log to save her.

“There,” I said, knowing that if I didn’t reply this would go on all night.

A few minutes of peaceful silence and then she yelled at me, “Well, pull it in!”

How insensitive of me not to pull in the imaginary log.

The reason I bring this up is because the other night I crawled into bed several hours after My Honey had gone to bed.  This is not unusual since he gets up at 4:30 in the blessed morning to go to work. 

I try to slide into the bed as gently as possible.  Not because I fear awakening him.  Rather, it’s to avoid setting off the snore-machine.  My husband can SNORE!  This particular night, I was stealthily easing myself onto the mattress when he sat straight up in bed and shouted, “Nuclear!” and then went right back to sleep. 

Of course, the snore-machine went off.  How could it not when I lay there shaking the bed with my giggles.