All Through The Night..........

Thomas has been working in his sleep. This isn't too unusual.  He often is welding in his sleep (makes since because he's a welder.), and he'll mutter things about the size of the welding rod he needs (usually a 20/18) or he'll mumble that something wasn't fit right or that he needs some angle iron, etc.  He usually dreams about welding when he's been working a lot of overtime.

But Wednesday night he wasn't welding.  When I finally got to bed he was already asleep.  I had just got settled when he reached over and pulled me over to him, and I thought "hmmmmm".  He said in a sweet, lazy voice "I need to measure this,"  and he pulled my leg over and settled it between his legs.  I raised my head, looked at him in the semi-dark and said, "What?!"  He smiled and said, "I need to get a measurement.  It ought to fit right here.  See, it's a square."  I said, realizing he was asleep, but trying to get as much enjoyment out of it as I could, "A square?  That's my leg, you know."  He said, "Well, it's two sides of a square."  I said, "Which two sides?  Perpendicular or parallel?"  He didn't answer, so I gave up and turned over to try to get settled again.  He grabbed me and said, "No, turn back one notch." 

Well, I was really tired and didn't want to play anymore, so I moved a little, hoping that I'd turned back "one notch", but apparently not.  He turned me back over and said, "No, turn back another notch.  I need to get an accurate measurement."  I gave up, snuggled up to him and went to sleep.  If he measured any more I didn't know about it.  The next morning when I told him about it he said no wonder he was so tired!

But the next night I got up to take something for heartburn and when I came back to bed he reached for me again, and, really believing him to be awake I said, "You aren't going to measure me again, are you?"  He said, "No."  I thought all was well, and then he  added, "I'm in yoursawdust." 

"What?" I ask.  "I'm in your sawdust."  "What are you doing in my sawdust?"  "It's for the danallen," he said.  "What's a danallen?"  I ask, although it vaguely sounds familiar.  "You know, the mayor's son that used to copy off me in school."  "Oh!" I said, "the Dan Allen! Why is the sawdust for the Dan Allen?"  No answer.  Sometimes when he's talking in his sleep if you ask him something that requires any reasoning or an explanation it's like you've just hit the "off" switch.  I couldn't get any more out of him.  The next morning when he got up I asked if he was extra tired.  "Yeah, why?  Was I measuring again last night?"  "No, you were playing in my sawdust that was for Dan Allen.  You never told me why." 

He said, "I don't even want to know."