My beloved turns over with a sudden start and, mutters something about “labels” and having to “get back”; I ask if she’s OK and a few words slur out – “’twas brillig, and the slivy toves” seems like everyday conversational English by comparison – the odd one even made sense but, next minute she returns to the gentle realm of snoredom.
I’ve got to admit though, there are times when ma belle starts muttering, some weird glossolalia, whilst still obviously asleep but, the occasions when it occurs during a kind of waking/wakeful stupor are even more entertaining.
Helen has been blessed (?), in her spiritual journey, with the gift of tongues, a gift not to be taken lightly but; I hasten to add that, on these nocturnal occasions, the gibberish that is emitted seems totally unrelated to any great outpouring of the Holy Spirit.
As she returns into the arms of Morpheus, I cling onto her but, fail to resist the sinful impulse of ‘envy’ as I long to share her propensity for sound refreshing sleep.
