Awakened by your quaking and shaking,
I give you a sleepy, irritated kick.
The bed instantly stills.
I drift beside your warmth.
A false peace —
residual giggles vibrate our bed
and disrupt my sleep again
and again.
Finally, I sit up
“I’m going to pee and when I come back, you had better be done with this nonsense.”
Which triggers another round of bed shaking.
How inconvenient that you dream in Dr. Seuss, rhymes and all, when I am least interested in laughing.
Prairie Sings 