One evening recently, Jaimie went to bed early. I stayed up late working. Around 11pm, she walked out of our bedroom and stared at me, then proceeded to tell me about a dream within a dream within a dream within a dream within a dream, each one involving waking up in her bed – and several of them involving coming out and talking to me.

I nodded in amusement as the dream spilled out, and was still smiling as she finished.

She concluded her story, tilted her head to the side, and frowned at me for a moment. Just as I was about to ask her what was up, she marched into the bathroom. A few minutes later, she came out and went directly back to bed without saying a word to me.

The next morning, I asked her about the dreams, and she proceeded to explain them again. I wondered – aloud, of course – if she realized that she had in fact awoken and spoken with me. (She said yes.)

Perhaps the most amusing part of the incident, from my point of view, was how she finished her story, frowned, and immediately headed into the bathroom, only to emerge and go directly to bed without saying anything further. There was no conversation, and I cracked up as she closed the door behind her. I have no idea what was passing through her head in those moments, but it certainly provided some much-needed relief and humor in the midst of a long evening of working.