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It was like being in the eye of a hurricane. You'd wake up in a concert and think, Wow, how did I get here?

I'd wake up in the morning and I would think, 'Where am I?' I'd have to gather myself.

I got to see the American Dream unfold in my living room.

We'd be working in our motel room through the night, and I'd come up with an idea at two in the morning, and he'd start jumping up and down, pacing across the room, or whatever.

Sometimes I wake up and think, 'How did I get here?'

I used to wake up in the morning and say, 'Oh, God.' Now I wake up in the morning and look forward to life.

There would be nights when I would wake up and couldn't get back to sleep. So I would go downstairs and write. The staff had a pool going on how many pages of typing I would bring in here in the morning.

Seriously, I dreamed that I was in my husband's dream, watching what he was dreaming about. Like, I was in his dream as an onlooker. It was so weird that I immediately wrote it down in the middle of the night. In the morning, it still sounded cool.

Every day after I wake up, I think, 'Wait... this can't be real; I'm still going to wake up.'