Dream a Little Dream

Posted: 18 August 2009 in observations
Tags: ,

“You were talking in your sleep!” (Optional guffaws of laughter) “Do you remember what you were dreaming about?”

Of course you’ve had that conversation. You’ve been on one side or another at a sleep-over, with someone new the morning after, with your mother/husband/sister/cousin. Either you’ve been called out, shamefaced, on your nocturnal mumbling or you’ve done the same to someone else after having been woken in the middle of the night, wondering who on earth is shouting about the ham. It’s a fact of life.

I’m a world class sleep-talker. I’m intelligible (most of the time), coherent (usually) and audible (always). If I’m talking, you’re probably going to hear it. And then you will mock me the next morning for being a) a spy, b) part of a cleaning crew or c) a hostage negotiator. Maybe I should move into sleep-extermination because, more recently, you’ll have been mocking me for pointing out all of the sleep-bugs that have swarmed into our sheets.

Of course, you won’t be doing that until you’ve put your heart back into your chest after picking it up from the floor where it jumped out in terror after I woke you, screaming. Because sometime in the last year, I moved from your average, run of the mill, sleep-chatter to fully-leaded night terrors, sleep-walking and sleep-shouting. Everything but sleep-ballroom dancing. This had led to more than one difficult night for D and I, and has left me both reluctant to go to sleep and inclined to fully equip a second bedroom. Though I’m not sure it would be any less traumatizing if I went about my nightly antics in another room where she could hear but not see me.

Regardless, I thought we had things well under control until she went out of town for the weekend. Dear readers, I have begun a whole new type of sleep-shenanigans. I’ve been sleep-texting. While I don’t normally sleep with a phone in the room, with D out of town I prefer to have a link to the outside world nearby on the off chance of a home invasion or radioactive insect swarm (see? I told you, night terrors). A security blanket , if you will. And, while this may be divulging too much information about my psyche, I keep that phone tucked under a book in the drawer second from the bottom of the bedside table. Just in case the home invaders/insects think first to take…my phone. I never said I was sane.

So there I am, sound asleep, fishing out the phone from its accessible but complicated hiding place so that I can text my friends. Text them grammatically perfect, punctuated, reasonable logical messages while never being aware of doing so. That thumping sound? It’s my stomach sinking into my toes as I try to figure out what prompted their morning text replies. Clearly, I need to keep all tools of communication out of the bedroom. Thank goodness I’m not inappropriate while snoozing or I can only imagine what I might have done while sound. asleep.

That acupuncture appointment I made for October seems a very long way away.

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Comments
  1. eva says:

    Hmm. Under the subject heading “PTSD Is Fun,” I had full-on sleep terrors until sometime mid-college and I also sleep-talked (this was pre-texting thank GODS). Coincidence? Perhaps not. In recent years a) I talk a lot less, and b) terrors have more or less subsided, and c) I am a WAY happier person…though I miss being actually able to *remember* my dreams.

    • backlist says:

      Interesting connection. If I had a tag for PTSD is fun, there would be a billion posts to put there. But then, it’s too traumatic to write them. Fun for everyone.

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