A man wakes up with a hangover after a night of drinking. He doesn't even remember how he got home, and is worried that his wife will be mad.
The first thing he sees is a couple of aspirins next to a glass of water on the side table. And, next to them, a single red rose.
He sits up and sees his clothing in front of him, all cleaned and pressed. He looks around the room and sees that it is in perfect order, spotlessly clean. So is the rest of the house.
He takes the aspirins, cringes when he sees a huge black eye staring back at him in the bathroom mirror. Then he notices a note hanging on the corner of the mirror written in red with little hearts on it and a kiss mark from his wife in lipstick: "Honey, breakfast is on the stove, I left early to get groceries to make you your favorite dinner tonight. I love you, darling!"
He stumbles to the kitchen and sure enough, there is hot breakfast, steaming hot coffee and the morning newspaper.
His 16 year old son is also at the table, eating. He asks, "Son, what happened last night?"
"Well, you came home after 3AM, drunk out of your mind. You fell over the coffee table and broke it, and then you puked in the hallway, and got that black eye when you ran into the door."
Confused, he asked his son, "So, why is everything in such perfect order and so clean? I have a rose, and breakfast is on the table waiting for me?"
His son replies, "Oh THAT... Mom dragged you to the bedroom, and when she tried to take your pants off, you screamed, 'Leave me alone, lady, I'm a married man!'"
I once experienced an episode of sleep paralysis with auditory hallucinations. I heard a deep masculine voice speaking in a guttural language that seemed just on the edge of being comprehensible to me. As if it were the primeval language from which all others sprang. The feel of the language in my ear was as familiar as my native tongue. I recognized the cadence, I could discern where one word ended and the next began, whether a sentence was a question, and so forth. But the words themselves were somehow alien.
I strained my senses trying to hear the voice more clearly. What horrible prophesy was I being given? What dreadful task have I been appointed? Am I the keymaster? The antichrist? Am I dying? Oh shit, that's it, isn't it? I'm dying and going to hell. Fuckfuckfuck. Um. I accept Jesus as my savior? ...Buddha? ...Joe Pesci?
Then I snapped out of it and the voice turned out to be the muffled sound of my neighbor's TV. Praise be to Joe Pesci!