Emily's husband, Paul, used to emit lengthy sentences, even whole conversations, in his sleep.
"I want to go to THAT room and fuck you while Emily's away," Paul once said, to someone, in his dream.
Emily -- fully awake, and yet more so after hearing this -- had the presence of mind then to whisper, "What's my name?" Paul then uttered in sweet tones the name of a friend and neighbor of the couple. And the rest you can imagine. They were divorced in due course.
Linda, a friend of Emily, heard the story, but she reflected that, should her man ever be unfaithful, he would not disclose it to her at all as neatly.
Ned too did talk in his sleep, but he would utter disconnected snippets, as if he was moving about quickly amongst several distinct dream worlds, and she never got the context of any of them.
Ned said once, "that goes over there."
Linda, "what does?"
Ned snored a bit, then said, "the damned moon."
Linda wondered whether we were in another dream entirely or whether the moon "goes over there." Still following Emily's lead, though, she whispered, "we're mad at the moon?"
More snoring, then, with an odd level of clarity and decisiveness: "tambourines!"
Linda gave up. Ned's secrets, whatever they might be, were safe from nocturnal disclosure.
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