I fart in my sleep. A LOT.
With that said, I don’t fart in front of anyone. I mean N-E-ONE. Not my friends, not my family, not even my husband. (well, maybe Owen, he doesn’t judge)
Except in my sleep. Like every night. It’s usually in that place just between awake and asleep, where I startle myself back awake. When I’m not quite sure if it was really me, or if what I heard was a dream. And usually it’s loud. Like probably can be heard from the next room. And then I laugh, a little out of embarrassment and a little out of pure amazement that I have done it yet again.
Then I lay there. Silent. Waiting for any reaction from Dave. Did he hear me? Should I say something? Was it really me? Bless his heart. Whether he really is asleep, or whether he’s just silent because he knows that I die when anyone hears me fart, he doesn’t say anything. Or giggle, or make fun of me the next day. He pretends like it never happened.
Until we’re in a big group of people. And he says loudly, “Krista farts in her sleep.”