I wake up in a strange room, sleeping in a strange bed, watching strange shapes shift near me, throwing shadows on the sheets. I do what any decent, imaginative, middle-aged woman would do – I scream bloody murder.
My man, however, does not understand my night terror. From his perspective, he is awakened suddenly, frighteningly, and unnecessarily by his wife, who has been sleeping in the same bed with the same man for the past, well, many many years.
But I have been away for almost a week with friends and family on the other coast. So, naturally, on the first night I return, I wake up at 1:14 a.m., screaming my head off.
“Wha’s the madder?” my guy asks groggily, sitting up stiffly, as if a five-headed monster is headed our way.
“Where am I?” I ask, breathlessly. I am still stitting bolt upright, mouth open and ready to scream again, staring at the figure looming beside me. “What’s that?” I ask with alarm, still not sure where I am.
“Where am I?” I ask again, still partly asleep, looking around wildly.
“Where you belong,” he says softly, sweetly, as he snores back into his dream.