A Husband and Wife Discuss Their Dreams

Blane and I usually start our day talking about what we dreamed the night before. We don’t actually sit down and have coffee, we just sort of meander around the house, bumping into each other occasionally. Mostly him upstairs, me down here. A floor and a balcony separates us, that’s all.

His words spill down and mine waft upwards. We hear each other all day long. Sometimes the same conversation lasts for hours, interrupted by sales and conference calls.

This is the work-at-home life.

But it all starts in the kitchen, face-to-face at the coffee machines.

His is a pop in the pod, easy as 1-2-3 Keurig that takes 60 seconds for a fresh cup.

Mine. Very complicated, but worth the 15 minutes of cranking up the boiler, grinding the beans, measuring, tamping just so…

Sometimes I use his, and rarely, he uses mine.

Today is the usual. I stare at his morning hair, which I completely adore. It looks like the wind blew it and then paused to do something else. It amuses me to no end, but I can’t tell him that first thing in the morning.

His coffee machine is about 55 seconds of warm up and 5 seconds of rushing coffee. That’s when he tells me about his dream in which we got all nasty, but he woke up before the best part. As he drags himself upstairs with his java, he says those dreams never have that special ending. Ever.

Then I tell him about mine, not face to face, but hollering over the balcony.

I was walking Scrappy at the Texas Mexican border and she bolted through a hole in the fence. Straight into Mexico. Some golden grilled thugs took off after her, so I chased after them. A team of customs agents ran after me.

Can you see it? Scrappy, thugs, me, customs agents.

Now throw in some tall buildings. This Mexico looked more like Tokyo because my brain is a fuzzy mess right now and a flat, cowboy movie landscape is no place for my superpower.

I can’t fly in my dreams like Blane can. I am a leaper. I bounce from the tops of buildings looking for my little Scrappy dog. Check every nook and cranny of this maze with my acute vision and, no dog. After I give up and return home, there she is, jumping up and down and happy to see me. Guess she doesn’t like Mexikyo.

Blane flies in his dreams. While this is an awesome skill I wish I had, the downside is he gets tired. I never run out of energy with my leaping. I just run out of things to do.

Over the next hour or so, between business calls we discuss the dreams:

Me: Anytime I star in your dreams we’re either fucking or fighting. Never anything like walking through a field of flowers or having a picnic.

Blane: No, wait, I just don’t tell you about those.

Me: …and you never have dreams where I come in save you.

Blane: Do you have dreams where I save you?

Me: Nah, I’m always saving somebody’s ass or mine. No one comes to the rescue.

Blane: Where were you when the bird people attacked?

[Bird People= four foot tall birds with 3 foot long beaks. They had teeth and were chewing him to shreds. One of my favorite nightmares of his]

Me: Now see, if I was in that dream, I’da put big rubber bands around their beaks, neutralize those bastards instead of trying to outfly ’em.

Some time passes but the convo continues…

Blane: …Fucking and fighting, well at least I’m faithful in my dreams. It’s never anyone but you.

Me: True. But what a waste, you should go for someone like Angelina Jolie.

A half hour passes and I holler up to Blane.

Me: Okay, I’m in all your sexy dreams, but it’s a way way nastier version of me!

Blane: Shhhh. I’m on a conference call!

He tells me they didn’t hear, but I’m sure he’s lying through his teeth.


At night, we discuss the day dreams. We’ve sold off everything, even the coffee makers, and all we own can be carried on our backs.

Tokyo, I’ll write about that later when I can sort thorough the photos, I’ve got some pretty bad hay fever right now and the computer screen makes my eyes burn like fire. That and and a trip to Louisiana for an aunt’s funeral just after Japan have kept me from blogging, but I promise to catch up on everyone’s posts. Miss you all.


16 thoughts on “A Husband and Wife Discuss Their Dreams

  1. Thanks Christina. My aunt’s been sick for a while, she had two or three kidney transplants and got an extra 12 years of life. Very special lady, I lived with her for a while when I was a child.

    The birds. Blane has the craziest and most horrible things chasing him in his dreams almost every single night. Last night it was me chasing after him.

  2. “The birds. Blane has the craziest and most horrible things chasing him in his dreams almost every single night. Last night it was me chasing after him.”

    I had stuff to say. Really. But after that?


    I got nuthin.

  3. Pingback: Tweets that mention A Husband and Wife Discuss Their Dreams « The Show Must Go On -- Topsy.com

  4. Perhaps it is my mood and the sun shining over a city almost completely, finally devoid of snow and ice but I cannot tell you how much I LOVE this post… I love it… I love that I can hear your voice in it so clearly – I love the conversations stretched over the day – the rituals on top of rituals (making coffee, sharing dreams, unspoken thoughts about morning hair…)… So many people seem to have marriages where it is the rituals that weigh them down and with you two, in this telling, there is joy and humour and connection and so much love in every part of those rituals – even the fact that you have your own coffee makers speaks to a kind of connection and respect that a lot of people sadly lack in their relationships. Still having hot, dirty dreams about your longtime spouse is also kinda’ cool (smile)…

    I, too, am sorry about your Aunt…

    Thank you for sharing MizzKitty and I cannot wait to hear and see more about Japan.

  5. Sulya, you must be psychic. I’ve been thinking about you the last few days, wondering what you’re up to and how things are going. Just this morning I thought it is time to check up on Sulya and see how she is doing, et voila, you are here.

    Thanks for your thoughtful comment.

  6. Amazing blog………….accidently stumble on it and I love reading about your daily life and the discussion of dreams. Nice post !!

  7. in my dream, every night, I dream of having someone that yells back at me in response to something I said after many moments pass. that sounds much nicer than a recollection of dreams the night prior just floating out into the ether like a fading echo.

    that was beautiful, Kitty. I love the “Mexikyo” mash-up and I am sorry to hear about your Aunt. Blane is a lucky guy and so is Scrappy. those thugs? not so much…

  8. “floating out into the ether like a fading echo”

    Wordmaster, you.
    I do carry dream residue with me much of the day. Damn glad I don’t do too much nightmaring.

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