Like, I could be walking down the street replaying or planning a conversation in my head. Over and over. I'm a ruer. As I think of new ways to express myself in this conversation in my head (woulda, coulda, shoulda), I get lost in this world. Next thing you know, I may start mouthing the words. Some people call this Talking Out Loud. Whatever - this isn't a real concern for me. Don't we all talk to ourselves occassionally? If you don't, try it. And tell yourself I said "hi."
Or, my problem surfaces while I am sleeping. Some may call this "talking in your sleep." But I think it is related to my sickness of Blurting Out Loud. It's just another degree. But this has gotten me in trouble in the past because one time in college I awoke in the middle of the night and shouted out, “Dave!” Now, I had a serious boyfriend at the time....sleeping right next to me. Oh, and, yeah, his name most certainly was not even remotely anything like Dave. So this screaming-out-loud-of-guy's-name-who-wasn't-my-serious-boyfriend-of-a-year awoke Serious Boyfriend Of A Year too.
"Who is Dave?!?"
"You just blurted out 'Dave'!"
"Yes! Who is Dave?!"
"I don't know."
And then there was an emphatic tug of the covers as he turned his back to me. It took him about a week to get over it (really) and accept that I really didn't know where the Dave reference came from. Seriously, who the fuck was Dave? [Dave was that lead singer of the hardcore band you lusted after. --Devil on my shoulder] Oh.
So people tell me all the time that I talk in my sleep. Mostly it is non-sensical rumblings with the occassional Dave sprinkled in, I'm sure. But herein lies my problem and the root of my fear: Now that I am sharing a bed with My Favorite Guy Ever, I have these fears of my own Private Turret's, Idaho rearing its ugly head. Manifesting in one of three ways.
First, Blurting Out In My Sleep. Especially as he shows up in some of my dreams. In my case, when does the dream become reality and I start talking it out loud?
A few weekends ago I had a series of weird dreams that all took place in his house. There was a dog that opened the front door and let himself in. I am sure it was a Family Guy reference. (Although he would love it if Brian came to dinner and made himself a martini.) Then there was the dream of him sitting on the floor by the foot of the bed while I am laying on my stomach on the bed facing down at him. He reaches up to me and says, “I am falling in love with you.” I say, “What did you say?” He says it again. “I am falling in love with you.” Then I woke up.
Surely I didn't yell out, "I'm falling in love with you." Because how do I explain that? No, honey, really, in my dream you were falling in love with me. Why was I dreaming that? Well, it's not "falling in love" in the literal sense, don't you see? But rather losing control, blah-di-blah...
It gets better. I could start acting it out loud.
This past weekend I had a dream I farted - in front of him. But there was some other noise simultaneous to the fart so - in the dream - I was able to disguise it. I awoke soon thereafter and then got scared that perhaps I acted that part out in real life. Because I heard it. And we all know that there will have to come a time when I fart in front of him.
And fear treads on.
Second, Blurting Out In A Moment Of Passion. This is a true story that happened to a friend of mine. So, not my story. But it could very well happen to me given my neurosis. They were laying in bed, and had been dating only a few months (about the same time we have). He is kissing her and says, “God, you are so beautiful…..all of you.” See where this is going...“all of you”...“olive you”....or, “I love you”. So she blurts out, “I love you too!” Only he confessed that that was not what he said at all. She was mortified but there is a happy ending as they are getting married next October.
What is to stop me from blurting my feelings out during fireworks - or even more tender moments? Because there are plenty of both.
Thirdly, Blurting Out Drunk Thoughts. Lord knows I can get myself into trouble this way.
Last Friday night, we tied one on. Eight cosmopolitans later and who knows how many hours later until I actually came to and I awoke alone in his spare bedroom. I used the bathroom then proceeded to follow the trail of clothes upstairs to his bed where he is sprawled out. As I crawled into his bed, he turned away from me.
He turned away from me?! (He's mad at me? I have no recollection of some of the night.) "Why are you here and I am down there?"
Silence. "Uggh...Don't you remember?"
Panic sets in. (Did I become mean?) "No! What did I say?"
"Uggh..." Then the rest of the sentence is jumbled.
"What?! You've got to tell me. Because I really like you and if I did something while I was drunk well that just doesn't count. Tell me, please!"
"The Germans invaded Poland in 1939. 1939 to be exact." And he passed out.
"Oh, I get it now." Alas, My Guy was still adorably drunk.
As far as I can tell, in recent history, I have not blurted out any of these:Dave!
I am falling in love with you.
All of you.
I love you.
Yet. Thank god David is his middle name!