Sister Margaret had always been known as the calmest nun in the convent.
Nothing rattled her.
Not thunderstorms.
Not power outages.
Not even Sister Agnes accidentally setting the communion bread on fire one Easter morning.
So when she stumbled into breakfast one morning pale as a ghost, trembling so badly she nearly dropped her rosary beads, every head in the dining hall turned instantly.
Sister Helen rushed over first.
“Sweet Mother of God… Margaret, what happened to you?”
Margaret slowly lowered herself into a chair like her legs barely worked anymore.
Then she crossed herself three times in a row.
That terrified everyone even more.
The Mother Superior looked deeply concerned.
“Sister, are you ill?”
Margaret swallowed hard.
“No…”
Her voice shook dramatically.
“I had… a dream.”
The other nuns exchanged nervous glances.
Now, normally dreams in the convent were harmless things.
Falling from church towers.
Missing Sunday mass.
Accidentally cursing during prayer.
But Margaret looked genuinely traumatized.
Sister Helen sat beside her carefully.
“What kind of dream?”
Margaret stared blankly into the distance.
Then whispered:
“I dreamed… I was married.”
The dining hall went completely silent.
Then a few younger nuns tried unsuccessfully to hide giggles.
Sister Helen smiled softly.
“Well… that’s unusual, but hardly terrifying.”
Margaret looked up sharply.
“That wasn’t the frightening part.”
The room grew quiet again.
The Mother Superior folded her hands.
“What happened next, child?”
Margaret clutched her chest dramatically.
“In the dream… I spent the entire night alone with my husband.”
Several nuns gasped.
One dropped her spoon.
Sister Helen blinked rapidly.
“And?”
Margaret leaned forward slowly.
“At first, it seemed pleasant enough.”
The younger sisters leaned closer immediately, completely invested now.
“He was handsome,” Margaret admitted reluctantly.
More gasps.
“He spoke kindly. Brought me flowers. Told me I was beautiful.”
Sister Agnes whispered:
“Oh dear…”
Margaret nodded weakly.
“Yes.
That’s exactly what I thought.”
The Mother Superior cleared her throat loudly.
“Continue.”
Margaret looked haunted.
“Then morning came.”
Every nun in the room went silent.
Margaret’s hands started trembling again just remembering it.
“He rolled over in bed… looked directly at me…”
A pause.
“…and asked where I kept the coffee.”
The room blinked in confusion.
Margaret continued in horror.
“Then he asked why there weren’t clean towels in the bathroom.”
A few nuns started biting their lips trying not to laugh.
But Margaret wasn’t finished.
“And then—”
She nearly broke down crying.
“—then he asked what was for breakfast.”
The entire dining hall exploded into laughter.
But Margaret shot up from her chair in complete panic.
“You don’t understand!”
Tears filled her eyes.
“He wanted eggs, Helen!
EGGS!”
Sister Helen laughed so hard she snorted.
But Margaret paced the room dramatically now.
“And when I told him I didn’t know how to cook eggs—”
She pointed toward the ceiling in horror.
“—he sighed heavily and started explaining how his mother used to do them!”
At this point several nuns were wheezing with laughter.
Even the Mother Superior had turned bright red trying not to smile.
But Margaret looked genuinely shaken.
“Then he started asking where we kept extra blankets!”
She clutched her rosary tightly.
“And after breakfast he handed me a LIST.”
The room erupted again.
“A LIST?!” Sister Agnes cried.
Margaret nodded wildly.
“Groceries! Repairs! Something called a ‘water bill!’”
Now even the Mother Superior lost control and burst out laughing.
Margaret looked betrayed.
“This isn’t funny!”
“Oh, Margaret,” Sister Helen gasped between laughs, “surely it wasn’t THAT terrible.”
Margaret froze.
Then slowly turned toward her with absolute seriousness.
“He asked me… if I knew how to iron dress shirts.”
The laughter instantly doubled.
One nun literally slid halfway off her chair wheezing.
But Margaret wasn’t done yet.
Her voice dropped to a whisper.
“And then…”
The room leaned in dramatically.
“…his mother came to visit.”
Pure chaos exploded through the convent.
Some nuns were crying laughing now.
Sister Agnes pounded the table repeatedly.
“What happened?!”
Margaret looked like she had seen the devil himself.
“She inspected the curtains.”
The room SCREAMED with laughter.
“And then she asked why I folded towels ‘the lazy way!’”
By now even Margaret looked slightly offended reliving the memory.
“She reorganized my kitchen, criticized my housekeeping, and told my husband I looked tired!”
The Mother Superior wiped tears from her eyes.
“Margaret, my dear… I think perhaps you’ve been reading too many romance novels.”
Margaret spun toward her dramatically.
“ROMANCE?!”
She pointed wildly.
“There was NOTHING romantic about it!”
The room quieted slightly.
Margaret lowered her voice to a trembling whisper.
“You know what the worst part was?”
Sister Helen barely managed to ask:
“What?”
Margaret crossed herself again.
“When I finally escaped to the bathroom for peace and quiet…”
A pause.
“…someone knocked on the door asking how much longer I’d be.”
The convent absolutely collapsed.
Nuns were bent over tables gasping for air.
One nearly spilled tea everywhere.
Even the Mother Superior had given up all dignity.
But Margaret still looked deeply traumatized.
Finally Sister Helen caught her breath enough to ask:
“So what did you do?”
Margaret sat down slowly.
Stared into the distance.
Then whispered:
“I woke up immediately…
and thanked God for celibacy.”
