Who would want to sleep with me?

I am NOT an easy person to sleep with. And I don't mean playing "hiding the salami", "doing the nasty dance", or "bow-chicka-bow-wow." I'm actually talking Sleep.

Let me explain.

I always had vivid dreams growing up and had some episodes of sleep walking. We had four bedrooms in our house, and six kids. One night I went to bed downstairs and woke up in an upstairs bedroom. Another time I was walking out the front door when my brother, Mickey, asked me where I was going. "I'm going to Kim's house." It was midnight. I was about twelve.

Fast forward a few years.

I woke up screaming and standing up against the wall with my hands and legs spread out wide like I was trying to hold the wall up. I had dreamed that the walls were falling down. My father heard me scream and yelled up the stairs, "Are you okay?" That woke me up and I was startled to find myself in this odd position. I laughed and replied that I was fine.

Then the movie The Exorcist came out.




IT.SCARED.THE.CRAP.OUT.OF.ME. Like it should any good Catholic girl. It probably didn't help that the only seats available in the theater were in the front row. And there we sat, my twin sister and I, along with some friends, with our necks cranked all the way back, wincing when Linda Blair spewed her green pea soup all over.



I watched the movie in terror, through my hands on my face. The movie had such an effect on me that my sister wanted me to talk to the local priest. Seriously. Anyway, my sister and I shared a large "L-shaped" bedroom upstairs. The bottom of the "L" was the dormer that my Dad had added on the house. The longer part of the "L" had slanted roof like an "A" frame. Each of our beds lined each side of the A. This is important to get the whole picture here.

That particular night, I had a horrible nightmare about the devil coming after me. For some ungodknown reason, I stood up on my bed, screaming my head off. But I couldn't stand up straight because the ceiling had an angle to it. So there I was, hunched over, and screeching like a banshee.

In the meantime, good ole Pami, my twin sister over there, minding her own business, is having her OWN nightmare. And for some ungodknown reason, SHE stands up on HER bed, well, hunched over, actually, and begins screaming, too.

Hearing each other scream wakes us up from our dreams.

I'm amazed to find myself standing up on my bed. I asked Pam, "Why are YOU screaming?"

She said, "I dreamed that there were snakes coming under our door! Why are YOU screaming?"

"I dreamed of the devil!" (See the connection here? snakes = devil!)

All of a sudden, we burst out laughing hysterically. We fell on our beds and laughed and laughed and laughed. Twenty minutes later our Dad yelled up the stairs, "Hey, are you kids alright?"

Well, this started a new fit of laughter.

"Dad," I said, "We could have been KILLED by now! What took you so long to see what was the matter?"

"Well, I heard the screaming so I ran and looked out the front window and didn't see anything. Then I ran and looked out into the back yard and didn't see anything. I figured you guys were okay 'cause nobody came in the house! But then I thought I should check on you!"

My brother's bedroom was across the hall from us. He wasn't home at the time. But when he heard the story the next morning he kiddingly said, "I should have shot you both and put you out of your misery!"

Things seemed to settle down a little after that. I was busy planning my wedding and thinking about moving into my first apartment. I dreamed about moving and did wake up with a lamp in my arms one morning though.

I got married and thought I would grow out of all this walking/talking in my sleep nonsense.

I was wrong.

One night I said to my (first) husband, IN MY SLEEP, REALLY, "I'm so mad at you that I could wipe SHIT all over your face!" Nice, isn't it?

Still with this same husband, we got a dog, named Rusty. He weighed about 45 pounds. One night I dreamed that someone was breaking into our apartment. Oh my God! He's on our bed! I started screaming at the top of my lungs. My husband jumped up from a dead sleep and said, "What's wrong?"

I yelled, "There's someone in here! He's on the bed!"

He kicked as hard as he could and you know what happened?

Wait for it.

Wait for it.

Poor little Rusty let out a yelp like a coon dog as he went flying across the room and slammed into the wall. Yep. My so called "intruder" was just my dog sneaking up on the bed. My husband was furious!

"That was the dog, you idiot!"

I felt so bad for Rusty, I was mad at my husband for calling me an idiot, and my heart was beating out of my chest. Just another night in paradise.

We got divorced a few years later.

Now I'm with my current husband, Jim, but things didn't get any better in the sleeping drama department. Usually I would dream about things I saw throughout that day. So if by chance I saw bugs or any other kind of creepy crawler thingy on TV? I'd dream about it at night. And chances were high that I'd see them because Jim watched the Discovery Channel a lot. He still does.

So here's what would happen.

I'd wake up screaming about bugs crawling all over me.



Or I'd crawl under the covers to the foot of the bed hiding from them. Or I'd wake Jim up and tell him that a mouse crawled across my pillow. Or that a big spider was hanging down right over my head. Like I said, I'm a real riot to sleep with.

I've even woke up swinging and Jim has had to wrestle my arms down so he wouldn't get smacked. Imagine going to work and explaining how you got that black eye?

Now that I'm older, things have calmed down somewhat. I still have wild dreams, but I'm just too damn tired to act them out. Once in awhile I'll say something to Jim in my sleep, but most of the time, I keep those thoughts to myself. The only thing coming out of my mouth now are snores. Jim should be thankful of that. I'm just going to have to remind him of that fact next time he complains about my snoring.