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The other night I climbed into bed and snuggled next to a sleeping form of the Mister. (my favorite way to fall asleep.) As I was finishing my journey to dreamland the Mister's not-so-snuggly elbow decided it didn't want me next to it anymore and jerked itself into my ribs.
For me, a self-diagnosed narcoleptic, the time between consciousness and sleep is usually a very short, very intense period where my mind is rapidly becoming completely oblivious to the world. To be disrupted during this transition can be very disconcerting.
Which is why I began to cry.
I couldn't help it. I didn't want to cry, but I couldn't stop. My mind was lost in the abyss between reality and dreamland, and I couldn't get it to come back. So, I rolled over and silently cried myself back to sleep.
The next morning I told the mister about the actions of his not-so-snugly elbow, and how I couldn't control my emotions because my mind was stuck.
He laughed.
And I couldn't help but laugh too.