When I was first with Julie, I didn’t have dreams in her bed. Those nights I was between her pink and scented duvet, within her oddly girly room (it's a bit incongruous to her personality actually), it seemed like there was some magic power warding my dreams off.
That doesn’t seem to be the case now.
Now I wake up in the small hours covered in sweat as frequently as if I was in my own bed. Fortunately Julie is a sound sleeper, and so there’s no need for me to try and explain it to her while in a scared, emotional and irrational state of mind. In the morning she does wonder why I’m so sleepy, but I’m able to shrug her away (I’m never great in the mornings). As long as I don’t lash out in my sleep I’ll be fine, but never mentioning what’s going on is starting to get me down.
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