dreaming en français

Speaking French in massive doses is beginning to have an effect on me. First, I am finding it extremely difficult to speak English when I'm teaching. Strange, but true. This is something that must be quickly rectified, since I am in fact an English teacher here. And often when I'm writing an e-mail or a blog entry, the French word comes first, and I can't find the right one in English. I don't consider this a bad thing, but it can slow me down at times. Then, I realized as I was watching a movie on TV that - although I may have missed a few phrases here and there - I completely followed the film without having to concentrate on the dialog. But the real evidence lies in my subconscious. Between 5:30 and 6:30 this morning, as I was trying to get just a little more sleep, I had a dream. Not a crazy-rabid-raccoon- following-me-into-a-French-manor -and-I-can't-remember-the-equivalent-of-911 dream like I had last week (the raccoon, by the way, was the size of an R.O.U.S. from the Fire Swamps of Guilder), but a dream worth noting all the same. In it, my brother and I had ridden our bicycles to a Panera-like restaurant (normal behavior for Chris, but not for me...). We had left our bikes outside and I was worried because we didn't lock them, but he wasn't concerned. There was a waitress. There were other customers. There was conversation. It wasn't a spectacular dream by any means - but what makes it remarkable was that it was entirely in French. And as I was dreaming, it didn't even strike me as odd. Until I woke up laughing and saying, "But Chris doesn't even speak French!"