My husband talks in his sleep.
I learned this early in our marriage when I woke up to him standing on the bed, holding his cell phone for light, urging me to look at the trail of ants across our ceiling. There were no ants on our ceiling.
I used to be much more aware and concerned about his nightly exclamations. It didn't take me long to learn to just go back to sleep. Although, when I stay awake and listen for awhile it can be quite entertaining.
One night I woke to his voice. It was nothing out of the ordinary at this point, so I was about to drift off again. Then I actually listened to what he was saying:
“Kylee, you are so beautiful. I love you so much. You are everything to me.”
He wasn't talking in his sleep. He was awake. He was talking to me in my sleep.
Love is this moment of waking to realize: it has never stopped. It didn't care if you heard. It didn't care if you weren't aware. It was. It is. Love rejoices over you for no gain to itself, whispers to you not out of need but out of fullness. Love can't hold it in.
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