I am sitting in the back seat, with my mother and her boyfriend up front, when BJ, sitting beside me, leans forward.

“Ma, you know what? I had a dream last night, and I called up Art, and I started yelling at him.”

“What? What? Why?”

“‘Cause I was mad at him, that’s why. He was in my room and throwin’ all my junk around, you know? And you know I ain’t havin’ none of that. I was all like what the hell are you doing? You’re messing up my room!“

“What? Wait a minute. He was in your—?”

“No, Ma. This was a dream, God-dog. Hello. I was dreaming that he was in my room, sitting on my beanbag, okay? And while I was sleeping, I had picked up the phone, and I had called Art, okay? I called him up at home, and he woke up. I woke him up. Okay? It was like four in the morning or something, and I was dreaming that he was in my room and throwing all my stuff around, so I was mad at him, and he’s all BJ, what’s wrong? And I’m like, you’re messing up my room! Get out, get out! You’re messing up my room!”

Here, I manage to get a word in edgewise, and I say, “Sheesh.“

“And what did Art say?” my mother asks.

“He’s all like, what? What are you talking about? Who the hell’s in your room? And I’m all like, you are! You’re messing up my room! Get the hell out of my room! ‘Cause in my dream, he was messing up all my stuff, and I’m kicking at him and yelling get out, get out, but he won’t get out, okay? He’s just throwing my stuff around and laughing, and I’m just yelling at the phone and kicking at the sheets. I am kicking at my sheets, okay?”

“Sheesh,” I say, and I laugh, remembering all the shouts I heard through the wall between our bedrooms. “Was that what all that noise was about?”

“You know it. I was mad. And Art’s just all confused, and he’s telling me, BJ, calm down. I’m not in your room. And I’m all just like, yes you are. Yes you are, and you’re messing up my room!”

“Sheesh. And you were asleep all this time?”

“You got that right, and I don’t even remember calling him up. But I guess I did because Art says I woke him up big-time at four in the morning and all. God-dog, I swear he must have been like, what the hell is going on here?”

I mutter “I’ll bet,” and I laugh again. “BJ, you spend far too much time on that phone.”

My mother says, “One day you’ll drive your boyfriends crazy.”

BJ just laughs. “You know it,” she says. “You know it.”

[Today’s posting, which I wrote some 8 or 9 years ago, is dedicated to my sister who turns 25 today. Happy Birthday!]

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