Since we moved into our new house (about five years ago), Emily and I have shared a room, and not just a room, but a queen sized bed. While not my preferred arrangement, the bed is super comfortable, and if Emily's feet come close to mine, I just kick them. One of the perks of this particular arrangement, however, is the incredible conversations I have with my sister . . . when she's sleeping.
She's always been a sleep talker, and when we shared a room before, she'd fight with me in her sleep. And she still sleep talks. Ha.
A couple of weeks ago, I went to bed about an hour after Em, and when I started clearing off the bed, she started chatting it up. She sat up, with her eyes opened (yeah, kind of creepy), and asked me, "Hey is it your turn yet?"
I paused; I smiled; I answered, "Yeah, I just went."
"What number are you?"
"Oh, I'm number 7."
"What number am I?"
"Oh, did I miss a turn?"
"Yeah, you had to go to the bathroom."
Then she heard John fiddling around on his guitar in the next room (don't ask me why John was playing his guitar at midnight).
"What's that noise?"
"Oh that's the timer. It's Cheyne's turn now."
Then she went back to sleep. Hahahaha.
I love sleep-talker Emily. . . . Except when she shakes me in the middle of the night to warn me about the snake, like last night. I didn't like that so much.