As last night was the official longest night of the year, we lit our candle in our wind lantern and set it on the dresser in my room, and fell asleep.

My husband woke me up at some unearthly hour in the night from a dream that was a vivid cross between Harry Potter and the Lord of the Rings.

“We have to put the candle out,” he said. “The smoke detector in the room is giving off beeps.”

Without waking up completely, I pinched out the flame, tried to open the window, couldn’t, mumbled at my husband to do it, and sat in bed while he opened it.

“Better to open the outside window too instead of hoping the cross-draft does it,” I said.

“Er,” he said, “this is the outside window. See? Screen.” He pushed his hand against the window and lo and behold, it was screening bending beneath his fingers, and not glass.

“It’s not cold enough,” I said stupidly.

“Welcome to Canada’s banana belt,” he said. “Want to sleep with the window open?”

So we did.

It was just strange.