The convent dining hall was unusually quiet that morning.
Soft sunlight spilled through stained-glass windows while the sisters prepared breakfast.
But Sister Agnes looked as though she had seen a ghost.
Pale.
Shaken.
And clutching her rosary like it might fly away.
Sister Margaret noticed immediately.
“Sister… are you alright?”
Agnes looked up nervously.
“I had the strangest dream last night…”
Concerned, Margaret sat beside her.
“What kind of dream frightens you this much?”
Agnes hesitated.
Then whispered:
“I dreamed… I was married.”
Margaret blinked.
Then smiled.
“Well, that hardly sounds terrifying.”
But Agnes shook her head quickly.
“It didn’t stop there.”
Margaret leaned closer.
“Oh?”
Agnes lowered her voice.
“In the dream…”
She swallowed dramatically.
“…I spent the entire night with my husband.”
Margaret raised an eyebrow.
The nearby sisters pretending not to listen suddenly became very interested in their tea.
“And?” Margaret asked.
Agnes looked horrified.
“When morning came…”
She pressed a hand to her chest.
“…he rolled over, smiled at me…”
The room seemed to pause.
“And asked what I was making for breakfast.”
Margaret blinked.
“That frightened you?”
Agnes gasped dramatically.
“You don’t understand!”
She looked around as though confessing mortal danger.
“I had NO idea what to cook!”
A few sisters nearby snorted into their cups.
Margaret laughed softly.
“That’s all?”
But Agnes shook her head.
“No!”
Her eyes widened.
“It got worse.”
Now even the cook paused beside the stove.
Margaret smiled.
“Worse than breakfast?”
Agnes nodded gravely.
“Yes.”
The sisters leaned closer.
Agnes whispered:
“I panicked.”
Margaret fought a smile.
“And?”
“I told him…”
She lowered her voice further.
“…that maybe we should fast and pray instead.”
The room chuckled.
But Agnes continued.
“And then…”
She looked truly distressed.
“…he asked if we had bacon.”
That did it.
Laughter rippled across the room.
Margaret wiped her eyes.
“Sister Agnes…”
But Agnes wasn’t finished.
“You think that’s funny?”
She crossed herself dramatically.
“In my dream…”
Her voice trembled.
“…I didn’t even know where the frying pan was!”
Now the entire dining hall shook with laughter.
One sister nearly dropped a spoon.
Margaret laughed harder.
“You poor thing.”
Agnes sighed heavily.
“I know.”
Then she added solemnly:
“And just when I thought I survived the worst…”
The room quieted again.
Margaret grinned.
“What happened?”
Agnes leaned closer and whispered:
“He asked what time dinner would be.”
The convent exploded.
Even the elderly Mother Superior looked up from her newspaper smiling.
Margaret wiped tears from her cheeks.
“That sounds more exhausting than sinful.”
Agnes nodded gravely.
“Exactly!”
Then she clutched her rosary again and delivered the line that made everyone laugh hardest of all:
“Sister… after that dream…”
She sighed dramatically.
“…I finally understand why some marriages need counseling.”
The dining hall erupted.
Even Mother Superior laughed into her coffee.
Still shaking with laughter, Margaret asked:
“So what did you do after waking up?”
Agnes looked relieved.
“I thanked heaven.”
Margaret smiled.
“For preserving your vocation?”
Agnes shook her head.
“No.”
Then she grinned mischievously.
“For saving me from cooking breakfast.”
