Awake in terror.

I wake up screaming and find that my husband has chewed off hands and has placed huge razors in their place. They're jointed in the middle and he's balanced next to our bed on them, his feet off the ground. His face has turned dark and angular like something out of a Jhonen Vasquez comic, and he's tottering back and forth, staring at me.

It's an ungodly time of night, and I keep screaming. Eli tries to calm me but, of course, I think he's trying to kill me and he has knives for hands. I'm slapping, pushing, and fighting; but in that weak-ass way one does when muscles aren't fully working yet.

At some point while thrashing around, I've resigned myself to being cut to pieces so now I'm crying, sobbing, hyperventilating. I begin to fully awake as Eli reaches for me again. I'm still scared, but I grab his hand. I grab his hand and touch each of his fingers to make sure they're real. I do this several times before I let him touch me.

I try to explain what happened, but I know it sounds ridiculous and I'm too tired to go through it all. I settle down, stop crying, and slowly go back to sleep.

Sleepwalk With Me

My husband, our roommate, and I went to see Sleepwalk with Me this evening. In addition to liking Mike Birbiglia, Marc Maron, and Ira Glass; it's about a dude who does weird shit in his sleep. How can I not get behind that?

In this fictionalized account, Mike Birbiglia's character moves in with his long-term girlfriend. His sister gets engaged, and his family begins pressuring him to marry Abby. At that time, he starts sleepwalking and begins his stand-up comedy career.

It was a little unnerving to watch, to be honest. I caught my husband glancing at me several times during the sleepwalking scenes, as I covered my mouth with my hands and giggled. It was a similar to the reaction one has when their mom is telling an embarrassing childhood story in front of friends.

Sleepwalk With Me is both touching and funny, and you should probably push up your glasses and button up your cardigan and go see it. You can pregame by listening to NPR on the way there.

Rozerem fucked me up

I used to work third shift at a hotel, which means I'd go in at 11 p.m. and leave at 7 a.m. I don't think I slept well for five years. I would occasionally take Ambien or an over the counter medication to help.

A friend who also has sleep problems offered me a sample of Rozerem, which was new at the time. I can't recall if Ambien wasn't working for me or if I just wanted to try a new drug, but I accepted happily.

I came home from work a few days later and took a Rozerem. I was off that day, so I was able to sleep as much or as little as I wanted without worrying about being able to function at my job.

Now, when I'd taken Ambien in the past, I would simply keep up with my normal business until I felt tired, then I would go to be, usually in half an hour or so. I followed the same protocol with Rozerem.

I was dicking around on the internet, as I do, when I noticed something strange. My computer monitor appeared to be a little off. A little... melty.

At this point, I should have realized what was going on and just gone to bed, but I wasn't tired at all. I was actually more awake than I was when I came home.

Soon, the colors on the screen were melting as well, dripping down. I looked around my bedroom and the walls were breathing, the curtains were moving on their own, with the fabric shifting in strange ways.

I was tripping balls.

At this point, I was just too excited to sleep. I'd never taken any hallucinogenic drugs before, and this was just too cool.

The melting, breathing continued for some time. I actually tried to take a screen capture (yeah, I know) so I could show people what was going on. This was way more exciting than sleeping.

After a couple of hours, it wore off and I decided to go to bed. Not happening. I tossed and turned and dozed a bit, but never went to sleep fully.

I thank Rozerem for giving me my first hallucinogenic experience, but I would not recommend it as a sleep aid.

I know First Aid.

My husband is falling off the bed. He's also a paraplegic. I grab him under his arms and heave him back, at which point he wakes up and asks, "What are you doing?" "I'm lifting you!" I reply, completely confident in my ability to keep him from falling off the bed. "Oh. Of course."

This is the second time I've woken up thinking he's falling off the bed. The first, though, where I believe him to be a paraplegic.

To his credit, he's tolerated it well, and only made fun of me a little bit the next day.

And in the beginning

When I was small, I can remember waking up and thinking there were three people in my bedroom. Always three people: two dudes and a lady. One dude was really tall, and wore a bowler and a suit. The lady was pretty short, kind of a hippie, with long; dark hair. The other guy was taller than she was, but shorter than the other guy, and I don't remember all that much about him.

The first time I remember seeing them in the shadows was when I was about 11. They didn't make me nervous or scared, but I wasn't entirely comfortable with them in my room, either. I can recall six or seven times throughout my life where I had this reoccurring waking dream of these three people.

The last time I remember them coming to visit was right around the time I got married, when I stopped sleeping alone. As I woke up further, I realized they were the shadows cast by my wardrobe being open.

While I have themes in my sleep crazy (that I'll explore later on), this is the only re-occurrence of a waking dream that I've had, and I can't explain their appearance anymore than I can explain their departure.

Kittens

The kittens have built placed a board between my bed and the window, and are trying to escape one of the dogs. I yell at my husband that he has to keep them from doing so, because then we'd have to look for them in the dark.

On another occasion, my husband brought one of the dogs into the bedroom and I freaked out, because there was a puppy in the bed and Gordon (the dog) would attack it.

Still another, there was a large black dog climbing the bookshelf. Rather than being terrifying, as it should be, I just wondered who let the strange dog into our bedroom. After the light came on, it became apparent that the large black dog was simply my backpack, along with some light and shadows.

What the hell is this about?

Going off the suggestion of a friend, I decided to chronicle the weird shit I say and do at night. I wake up, but I'm still partially asleep, still in my dream.

I rarely have night terrors, but I will be very confused and sometimes alarmed.

For example, last night, the night after I decided to start a blog, I woke up convinced there was a snake in my mouth. I jumped out of bed, pawed at my face, and shook out the blankets. After doing all that, I was awake enough to realize the "snake" was actually a lock of my hair combined with drool.