Bedtime Alligator

My husband and I aren't that strange. I chant that to myself over and over. We do a lot of normal stuff, so I am pretty sure it is true. We're just regular people going about life in a regular sort of way. But sometimes...

It happened in the dead of night while I was sleeping soundly, happily enjoying my dream world. My husband rudely awoke me with shouting. He shouted over and over, and, when that was clearly not enough panic, he began clawing at the mattress, throwing pillows, blankets, and the pried off sheet.

It takes a lot to wake me up, but this method was effective. I was ripped from my peaceful dream into an instant panic induced terror. Because I am a caring, comforting wife and human being, I compassionately rose to my knees and yelled, "WHAT THE HECK IS GOING ON?"

He had an unexpected response to my caring inquiry, and it terrified me.
"An alligator!" He shouted, eyes wide open. "A giant alligator! It is almost here!!"

There is nothing like the threat of an imminent alligator attack to get the blood pumping. I had no desire to be consumed by an alligator in the middle of the night, so I grabbed my pillow and began beating, well, anything. I beat the headboard; I beat the mattress. You can never be sure where the alligator will strike from, so I also beat the foot of the bed, and, just to be safe, I pillow-beat my husband.

Suddenly it struck me that alligators are not common in Iowa. Or in bedrooms. And a pillow is not the most effective weapon against an alligator. And my husband might not deserve the beating he was receiving. So, gasping for breath, I began to reassemble the bed. Mike must have felt satisfied by our alligator attack skills, because he had snuggled down into a peaceful coma and could not be budged no matter how badly I desired to put the sheet back on.

"I think I had some bad dreams last night," Mike said the next morning. "Something about being beat up. I think I was being hit over and over."
"Oh, really?" I answered him calmly. "I didn't notice anything."