BAMF

I kicked my boyfriend's ass a few nights ago. 

It was by complete accident and I didn't know it was happening, but yeah, I totally did. I believe this embodies the definition of being a bad-ass-mo-fo because, apparently, I sleep fight. The dream was vivid. I could feel, or at least my mind had thought I had felt, an aggressive grasp on my arm. This situation left me so irate that I packed a wallop a or two. Five, according to him.

I remember landing the first punch on the intended target, then the second. Perhaps as I swung for the third time was when I realized I was safe in my bed. The rest of my limbs did not receive the memo of a cease fire and continued to attack. Silence. The blanket finally shifts, revealing a startled and confused face. 

"I had a nightmare," I apologized.

All is well, he hugs me, possibly to lock my lethal arms and prevent any more physical brutality. I apologized once again when we were fully awake. He laughs and he tells me that it didn't even hurt and that it was rather "cute" how I "tried" to beat him up. 

Body pillows and blankets divide the space between us now.