Not quite 24 hours ago, I dreamt that, while trying to enter the main door to a large office building, I was confronted with the howlings of a band of ghosts. Now, I couldn't see the ghosts, but I believed them to be hidden under a large sheet-like tarp that was draped over the walkway like a long awning. So, I formulated a plan to get past them and into the building.
I threw a standard set of cutlery (fork, knife, spoon) down onto the tarp from above (was I on a platform? staircase? maybe I was floating?), hoping to harpoon them. To add emphasis to this attack, I myself was howling in a spooky wail, "goooooooooooooooooo awaaaaaaaaay... ."
It was those last two words that woke up my poor husband at 2:30am, as I emitted the spectre-like chant from my sleep. Years ago, before Ted was in my life, I would wake myself up making some horrible cry in the middle of the night. It would usually scare me, I think partly because of the dreadful noises I made and partly because of the content of the dream that prompted the noises. Once awake, I would sit in the dark -- freaked out -- for about 10 minutes before turning on the clock radio or getting up to turn on the light or something else to get my mind off the situation.
Since then, this phenomenon occurs much less frequently, and when it does, my disquiet is quickly allayed by Ted's presence. He always wakes me as gently and firmly as he can, and then stays awake to make sure I'm not too freaked out. He's a great calming presence in my life. Next time I find myself battling ghosts with flatware, I know my husband will be close by to protect me.