So I’m heading for bed last night after watching Australia lose the Tri-Nations (yes! yessss! If New Zealand can’t win, then Australia must lose!) and Mr. T is already fast asleep. So what if he’d spent the whole morning training; I will not listen to petty excuses. Anyway, I woke him up slightly as I came into the room. Not enough to actually rouse him, it seems; just enough to get him talking.
Mr. T: “Haarg … down the middle … so I said …”
Me: “Hee! You’re sleep-talking.”
Mr. T: “NO … wasn’t through morfl … cut your head off …”
Me: “OK. You have to WAKE UP NOW. You just threatened to cut my head off.”
Mr. T: “NOOOOO … cut the GOLD off …”
Me: “This is not helping. Wake up NOW. You are freaking me out.”
And of course he remembers none of it. I find it quite unnerving hearing people sleep-talk anyway; it always smacks of horror movies to me, the eerie lack of consciousness behind the words. But decapitation sleep-talking? Whole new level of bizarre.