I Moaned in My Sleep

The hot shower water pelted by body, waking me up slowly, opening my pores and my mind. I ran the bar of fragrant soap over my skin… quickly. Efficiently. There’s been no time to linger over a shower in weeks. It’s become habit now. Get in. Get clean. Get out.

Nathan’s voice pierced the cloud of steam, “So, what did you dream last night?”

He never asked me about my dreams. Something had prompted his inquiry. I was instantly on guard. Had I talked in my sleep? What had I divulged?

“Why do you ask,” I responded.

“Well, why don’t you tell me what you dreamed,” he said, giving me no hint as to why he had asked. I racked my brain. And for the life of me I couldn’t remember dreaming of anything. That in itself was odd. I normally have a vidid dream life that I can recall without issue.

“Darling,” I said, “If I did dream last night, I don’t remember it.”

“Oh,” he said with a chuckle, “you dreamed all right.”

“Did I talk in my sleep,” I asked, trying to hide my alarm.

“No, you didn’t talk.”

“Well then, why on earth are you so sure I dreamed?”

“Because,” he said, coming to stand in the shower door way and watch me rinse off, “you moaned.”

“How do you mean?”

“You know how I mean. You moaned how you moan when you are…” his voice trailed off and his look became more knowing.

“No! I did not!” I said in shock.

“You did. You did so much it woke me up!”

“Well why didn’t you wake me up so we could enjoy my dream together?”

“Because you sounded like you were having a splendid time on your own. I didn’t want to wake you.”

“Hmmm,” I mused as I toweled off, “I wish I remembered.”

And I do wish I did. It’s been far to long since my back was arched an genuine moans were pouring from my mouth.