Are We Ever Going to Talk About Last Night?

“Are we ever going to talk about last night?”

That was an odd question for the Big Guy to ask. Because even if there were something to talk about, he wouldn’t volunteer to talk about it. I thought for a minute, but for the life of me, I could not figure out what we should be talking about.

“What happened last night?” I was truly puzzled.

“You attacked me, nearly broke my foot!”

“Oooooh. That. “ (Laughter. ) (Serious laughter.)

“I didn’t attack you! I was just rolling out of bed.” (Laughter. Maniacal hold-your-stitches-so-your incisions don't-hurt laughter.)

He was not laughing. He gave me a serious ‘are you kidding me’ kind of stare. I continued to crack up. I had no memory of ‘last night’ until that very moment.

You see, I was sleeping…in the rented bed…in our rented house…and I woke up because I heard a noise…and there was this giant metal claw thing coming for me. It was like a claw-shaped bucket on some type of machinery…like a gigantic tractor or bulldozer or something, driving through our bedroom. It was coming at the bed superfast (very un-tractor-like) and I was about to get crushed so I had to roll out from under the claw-thing and then shimmy down the bed real fast-like so I wouldn’t be killed.

But when I reached the bottom of the bed, I felt fur under my feet. And we don’t have fur rugs. I realized I was about to crush the dog so I grabbed onto something for dear life so I wouldn’t slip on off the end of the bed and land on the dog. That something was the Big Guy’s feet. The real fast-like shimmy down the bed had occurred on top of his body. He had been pummeled with my knees and palms and now I was hanging my whole hefty body from his feet. 

He yelled, which shocked the crap out of me and as I began to explain that we needed to move fast to escape the…claw…thing…(where the hell did it go?)…um...er...

I was shocked to see that there was no giant piece of construction equipment in our bedroom and decided I would just get back in bed except the sheets were all caddywhompus on the bed then which I totally blamed him for. 

Though frustrated and somewhat wounded from this middle-of-the-night assault, the Big Guy was not really so much in shock because it is not the first time I have launched myself onto him or out of the bed while declaring some imminent catastrophe. Usually it’s spiders though. Non-existent giant spiders disrupt our sleep a lot. Construction equipment is new for me.

Hi. I’m Limtiless Lisa and I’m a sleepwalker.

I've heard folks say you outgrow it. I’m 38. I hope when I grow up I don’t do it anymore because it is really embarrassing.  I think it must be like being a wino, except I don’t drink. But, you know, like a wino, I never know where I might wake up. Thank heavens the Big Guy shares my bed and redirects me before I actually leave the house. Who knows where I’d wake up if he weren’t here.  I could wake up on the steps of the library and have no idea how I got there.

It usually occurs in times of high stress (you know…like after a house fire,  or having emergency surgery) or when I’ve been sleeping outside of my normal surroundings (hotel, 2 rental homes, hospital).  I guess we should have expected it really. I’ve had some smaller episodes recently, but this one really stood out, because you know…the Big Guy was all “YOU ATTACKED ME! YOU NEARLY BROKE MY FOOT!”

Big guys can be so sensitive.     

  

I figure maybe my sleep-brain was still holding a grudge for that time when he dumped me off the back of the golf cart and laughed so hard he didn't even stop to ask if I was alright. The brain works out all kinds of crazy things during sleep, you know? 

(Mine just happens to work things out in a very animated sort of way.)