When One Talking Fisch Becomes Two…


Friends, I’ve made a dedication to you, to always be “me” here on this blog.

To not write flippantly, for the sake of writing.

Sometimes, it’s so tempting to want to do that. To write something that I think people want to hear, or to throw frequent, meaningless posts out there for the sake of posting almost daily.

Sure, my goal is to post here more frequently. But I will always bring you my heart; my “realness” or authenticity if you will. And sometimes, I’m just so tired that I can’t seem to find my voice.

Sometimes I’m just in need of no computer screen; no access to social media around me. Sometimes I need to sit and be with my husband. Or sit and talk to a friend. Sometimes I just need to be present. To set my phone and computer aside and take a break from all the connection. Don’t we all?

One way I can tell if Big Fisch and I are not well rested enough? When we both begin engaging in conversations in our sleep. Yes, this is normal for him.

But for me? Man, I thought I was safe.

The other night I woke up to Big Fisch telling me to “just go to sleep.” I could tell I had been talking to him… blabbering on about “saving the link!”

I had been dreaming I was giving him an important link to a website he needed for work, and I really, really wanted him to save the link so he wouldn’t forget about it.

I remember dreaming a full conversation with him. He wasn’t responding as enthusiastically as I’d hoped, so I kept scooting closer and closer to him, smiling and stressing the importance of saving this link.

I mean really? First I’m sleep talking and then I’m sleep talking about work?!

He talked back with me for a while (as we both later recalled) until he finally got annoyed enough with the chatter to wake up and say “…Layla, just go back to sleep.” I remember that phrase triggering in my mind that I in fact had been sleep talking. I laughed, half deliriously, half terrified that the very same phrase I have to use to wake up the sleep walking Fisch…”Matt,you’re sleep walking ..” was the phrase used on me.

I rolled over to my side and cried a little and then said a prayer.

Not really, that’s just me being dramatic.

Later that night morning, around 4 AM, I woke to Big Fisch jumping out of bed, then tip-toeing around the end of the bed, tripping over a laundry basket I stupidly left out, and slowly peaking into our dirty laundry basket on the other side of the room. Not finding whatever he was looking for, he closed the lid, then walked towards the bathroom.

He stopped, poked his head inside, then hopped into the bathroom. I laid there silently, not wanting him to know I was awake.

I heard him use the toilet, then begin brushing his teeth.

Hmm I thought. Maybe dinner just had too much garlic in it?

He continued to brush his teeth while he stepped into our room and looked around with those big crazy eyes. He scratched his right arm as he brushed his teeth with his right hand.

Scratch scratch. Brush Brush.

When he was finished, he set down his tooth brush, paused, gave a big sigh and walked back to bed. Not willing to wake him up to question his behavior, I closed my eyes and drifted back off to crazy person land.

We realized the next morning that we had chatted and tossed back and forth for much of the night… in our sleep. Maybe we subconsciously knew that we needed the time to catch up with one another since we’ve been busier than normal lately?

Good for our relationship, perhaps. Terrible for our quality of sleep.

Needless to say, we woke up un-rested, with kinks in our necks, and with one of us being very tired of hearing they needed a particular link…

My point to all this?

1. Perhaps sleep walking becomes contagious the longer you’re around it.

2. No one is truly immune to it under our roof.

3. Big Fisch and I might both be psychotic.

4. Thank you, to my loyal readers, for your patience when my posts are sparse. Thank you for understanding that life happens, and that sometimes, a girl just needs to sleep.

Love you all dearly,

Tiny Fisch