In the bitter watches of the night

Last night, I had a vague, unremembered dream that nevertheless succeeded in creeping me out the instant I jerked awake. So I crawled out of bed, padded outside where T was still engrossed in Championship Manager 4 and pleaded with him to come to bed. I was sufficiently creeped out that I didn't want to talk about the dream until this morning.

Naturally, the first thing he asked about when we got up today was the dream. I couldn't remember most of it, and what I did remember sounded uber-lame ("there were these people, I don't know who they were, but they were familiar, and we were waiting for something supernatural to happen, like weird noises or footprints to appear or something..."). So he laughed and laughed and laughed. So I poked him.

Ah, marriage.