When Smoke is in Your Bedroom . . .

I have been reading Matthew Quick's The Silver Linings Playbook (Yes! It is as good as the movie, so open a book once in a while, people!) and have, on several occasions, said to my husband, Dan, "You should practice being kind rather than right." (Read the book, people!)

My married friends will recognize that this quotation is highly appropriate while on the journey of matrimonial bliss. However, as I found out this week, it works both ways.

I am currently in rehearsals for a musical theater production . . . which means I am pretty tired right now . . . which means the night terrors are back. Night terrors rarely interrupt my sleep, but my odd behavior and blood curdling screams do, unfortunately, wake up Dan.

Yesterday, Dan told me I had another strange episode about two nights ago. This time I didn't scream. But I did start yelling at Dan about smoke in the room. I insisted I could smell it and see it over the bed.

Dan turned on the light.

"Look! There is no smoke, Becky."

"Stop telling me there is no smoke in the room! I know when there is smoke in the room!"

I continued to yell about smoke for a few minutes, becoming increasingly frustrated with Dan's obliviousness to this hazardous situation.

When I started to come out of it, I still insisted that there had, in fact, been smoke in the room. I just couldn't see it anymore.

"Why would I have thought there was smoke in this room when there wasn't?!"

"Did I think something was on fire?" I asked yesterday morning, after he finished recounting this latest installment in my night terrors saga.

"No, you just kept saying there was smoke was over my head."

"Did I think you were smoking cigarettes in bed or something?"

"I don't know what you were thinking," he said. "You need to practice being kind rather than right . . . while you sleepwalk."

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