Unfaithful

I had the best sex of my life last night. In my dreams. Literally. With an ex. It was all covert meetings and brushed thighs and loaded looks and wet lips and.... oh, I've come over all a fluster. Strange thing is - it is almost as of husband knew. Just as I was reaching my peak (god bless 35) he shouted out loudly in his sleep and jolted me from my illicit passion. I was out of breath, shocked and disorientated. Relieved and also... er... pissed off. Boy my ex was good - in the dream. In real life - I can't remember actually. Sounds awful to say, but it is all a blur. A past life that thank god, is buried deep in the past. In my dream all my mates knew - they somehow worked it out - due to some letter dropped at the scene of my crime. They all knew and they all gave me merry hell. I felt awful. Rotten. Tempted to do it again. Dear friends of old berated me and ostracised me. I was mortified and unsure how it had all come to pass. For a dream it was frighteningly real. I wish I had jotted down the story because it was soap gold. When I woke, I looked at husband's matted black tufty hair, his long lashes that mirror our son's and his soft features. I was so happy that my deceit was wiped away in the opening of an eye. Yet all of today I kept thinking of the ex. Who is an ex for a reason - many of them. Yet to my horror, he made me smile. Is that bad?