Talking in My Sleep

"Do you know what you said in your sleep last night?"

"No." I replied. "Was it anything good?"

"Not really, but it was funny." He made a few kitty cat chops licking noises after that, just to taunt me.

"Alright, spill it. Just tell me what I said in my sleep."

"Are you ready for this?" he asked.

"Yeah. No. I don't really care. I've talked in my sleep since I was a kid. None of it's ever been incriminating. I got over the embarrassment factor at least three decades ago."

"You said 'numbers, Craig!' that was all--besides the chop licking noises."

"Oh, that's pretty funny that I'm talking to my boss about office work in my sleep. It just shows how badly I need a vacation."
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Addendum (trying to turn it into a story beginning):

Ilana just walked out of a movie theater in Madison, having seen Lord of the Rings: Return of the King with her boyfriend. They both were hungry, so rather than walk back to her car and drive straight home, they decided to walk around town a bit. They window shopped with disinterest looking for a good place to find food, until she saw the ratty old-fashioned velvet jacket on a mannequin in front of a thrift shop.

She dragged her boyfriend in and made him wait until she tried it on. She also tried on a flapper dress from the 1920s that was red satin and black lace that she had spotted on her way through the store. The flapper dress was a size large, and the velvet jacket was a bit narrow in the shoulders, but she bought both anyway, just because she loved them.

After that, they went to Village Pizza, but Ilana vowed to bring Steve back to eat at L'Allegria a few times, and pay for it herself.

"I swear I'll wear that velvet jacket when we go to L'Allegria. Deal?"

Steve replied "Deal!"

Months later, they showed up at the restaurant not quite looking like vagabonds. The coat check guy had to take the fur coat, and issue a tag number for it, but when it came to the ratty old velvet jacket, no dice.

During dinner, really weird things started to happen. The wine bottle started leaking. The gorgonzola pizzita shattered. That was just the start of it.

Now listening: Rose Reiter, What I Don't Get.