I tend to talk in my sleep.
Usually it's just garbled nonsense.
Although one time, I held an imaginary conference call. Scott says I handled myself very well.
Another time, I muttered and then rolled over and punched him three times. (He wasn't as impressed with that one.)
Last night, I screamed. Loudly. Scott was up later than me, and came running up the stairs thinking one of the children had died. But it was just me doing a little dream screaming.
I can't even remember what I was dreaming about. But I do remember his hands shaking as he calmed me down and I fell back to sleep.
Was I mad? Scared? Hungry? (Don't judge me - I get low blood sugar.) Who knows.
I think I need to take a cue from Ashley, who assures me every morning that her night was filled with lovely dreams of unicorns walking over rainbows. No screaming material there. Except for that one time, when she dreamt that Aidan turned into a hula girl. Don't ask.