I was sleeping, and dreaming of playing hockey. I was a winger, battling for position in front of the net with a defenseman. The guy grabbed my stick and pulled it out of my hands, so I reared back to punch him.
Before my anti-depressants, I might have actually done that, by the way.
I let loose with the punch. Outside the dream, in real life, I also let loose with a punch. I hit Elvi in her left shoulder. She woke and woke me to ask, “Why did you hit me?” I told her it wasn’t her but this guy who wouldn’t let go of my stick.
When we woke up in the morning, I asked Elvi whether I had dreamed that I hit her or I really did. She told me I did.