There they are, right where I expect them to be, the knuckles in my back. She is poking me, poking me between my bottom two ribs, poking me with a growing intensity. And I know I have it coming.

She is dreaming the dream. The intense dream, the substantive dream, the dream that tries to sort itself into the "this really happened and now you have to deal with it" file. The dream you awake from wondering why you said such a stupid thing to Michael at the party the other night and wondering how you are going to undo the words this time. The dream you realize, with your first cup of coffee, was only a dream, there was no party the other night, and you are off the hook. The dream your therapist loves to hear.

She is dreaming the dream. And poking me in the ribs.

I am now fully awake and thinking of our conversation from earlier in the evening, thinking about how I was amused by her sudden flash of jealousy.

"Nothing would hurt me more than if you had an affair in our bed."

"Does that mean an affair is okay if I have it somewhere else?"

"Well, no...."

"I'm trying to remember. Did we actually state as a rule that neither of us will have an affair?"

She pouted her little girl pout.

"If you have an affair, I'll get even. I'll take revenge."

I was playing with her because I was amused. I was amused because I love her so deeply I couldn't imagine being with anyone other than her, couldn't imagine how she could ever be jealous.

She is dreaming the dream, poking me in the ribs, and getting even. She wakes from her sleep, but not from her dream. There's an edge to her voice.

"How can you let her do that?"

"Who, honey?"

"The waitress, the blond waitress."

"Is she young or old?"

"Young."

"Pretty?"

"Yes."

"What did the pretty, young waitress do?"

"She sat down next to you. Only talked to you. Didn't even look at me. And she was oh-so bubbly."

"And?"

"Got pissed at her ignoring me, so I put my $5.50 on the table and said, 'Here, I'm paying too. Does that mean you'll sit next to me and talk?'"

"And?"

"She just flipped her blond to the bone hair and stared at me with those big bovine eyes."

"I thought you said she was attractive."

"Well, yes...."

"Tell you what honey, I'll tell her she's very rude, I'm obviously with you, and I'd like her to go away."

"Oh, okay...," she says, then slips back into her slumber.

She is dreaming the dream. But with certain modifications. At breakfast she tells me, "I had a strange dream last night."

"I know."