Other times when I'm strolling around sleeping, I find myself somewhere unexpected. I went to camp in the summers with Liz, and one time when I was about 13 we went on a 45 mile canoeing trip. We stayed at a vacated boy scout camp for one of the nights. The campsite had probably 20 or 30 A-frame tents(not sure if that is how to describe it...they had a wood floor and canvas-like roofs and doorway openings. They were shaped like tents). I slept in the middle in my sleeping bag, with Liz on one side and an unsuspecting girl on the other. Sometime in the middle of the night, it started to pour rain. Around the same time or approximately when the ground was most soaked, I rolled out of the canvas door flaps - sleeping bag and all - and landed in a puddle. I also managed to kick my tennis shoes out the door with me (how this occurred without anyone else waking up is beyond me. Maybe I somersaulted).
Generally falling out of a cabin thing and landing in the rain would shock someone awake. Instead I climbed out of the bag and wandered off into the dark. I woke up when I realized my feet were wet and was fairly terrified. One minute I was warm and in a nice tent-like structure and the next I was drenched, in wet pajamas, without glasses (this was particularly unfortunate), disoriented, surrounded by woods and wondering where all the identical little canvas houses were. It took me a long time to find the light to the bathroom (or the biffy, as we called it at camp for some reason). I then could kind of trace my way to our tent thing. Except I overshot it. This was worrisome. Most tents were empty because our group was small and there was a myriad of tents. I looked in like three before I found ours. By this point I was crying and relieved to see dry land(I know, right? Whimpy). Liz fortunately knew of my nighttime travels and helped me fix a bed out of towels and all of our combined dry clothes, because by now my sleeping bag was waterlogged. She then bungee-corded the door flaps shut in paranoia.
Showing posts with label sleepwalking. Show all posts
Showing posts with label sleepwalking. Show all posts
February 23, 2009
Adventures in sleep
As a kid I sleepwalked. (It's common, ok? And by kid I mean until age 24). Usually it was just innocent little forays into my parents' bedroom to say something unintelligible, but sometimes I did other things.
When I was seven, I wandered into the bathroom in the middle of the night, took off my nightgown and underwear, and put them in the toilet. Then I went and got my three year old brother's t-shirt and underwear and put them on and went back to bed. I can only imagine my mom's confusion when she got up in the morning to use the bathroom.
Another time I peed on a stack of books in my parents' room. Books, toilet. It's all the same when you're asleep. I was probably three.
Once when I was in high school, I stumbled down the hall and stood at the railing above our stairs, most likely with a glazed look in my eyes, partially because I am blind without my glasses and partially because I was sleeping. My dad looked up from the computer quizzically. "Hi Kiwi, what are you doing up?"
"I have to do my Arab notes," I answered, dead serious.
"I see," he said. "I don't think you're fully awake right now." I denied this vehemently, convinced that I had simply to do some notes real quick. Arab notes. Arab notes? Wait a minute...
"Hey Dad?" I said, once I was back in bed, "I was totally asleep just then. Sorry."
"Mmm hmm."
As I said in a previous post, my parents and brother are quite used to my quirks. Every time I deny being asleep until I'm back in bed and awake. The funny thing is I mostly remember what I do, I just am firm in my belief that whatever I am doing at the time is totally normal.
Adam bought shelves for my plethora of books and we installed them over our bed. One night at about two a.m. I sat up and ripped the shelf off the wall, sending about 20 books tumbling into my lap. Ow. Ow, ow, ow, ow, ow, ow, ow. Ow. Ow ow ow. (That was the landing of the books. Somebody please, remove these libraries from my knees). Adam woke up, startled by the crashing and his wide awake (now) girlfriend sitting there staring blankly at him. "I ripped down the bookshelf," I confessed. "I was asleep though. Sorry."
"Why...why exactly?"
Who knows. Probably because I'm crazed. One time at a hotel (most often these episodes occur when something is different. Like a new shelf or something, you know, big life changes), my dad discovered me walking repeatedly into the corner of the room. He didn't so much discover me visually, because he is absolutely blind without contacts, but probably heard me banging into the wall and saying, "I have to get out."
Multiple times I have gathered all of my blankets and placed them in a neat ball over in the corner of my bedroom. I then return to bed (I guess) and wake up freezing with a vague memory of carrying a ball of blankets across the room for safekeeping.
I spent the night at my friend Liz's house when I was about ten, and once I stood up from my spot on the floor and walked around the room a little. She asked what on earth I was doing and I apparently explained that I didn't want to wear the dress with the puffy sleeves and went back to my sleeping bag.
When I was seven, I wandered into the bathroom in the middle of the night, took off my nightgown and underwear, and put them in the toilet. Then I went and got my three year old brother's t-shirt and underwear and put them on and went back to bed. I can only imagine my mom's confusion when she got up in the morning to use the bathroom.
Another time I peed on a stack of books in my parents' room. Books, toilet. It's all the same when you're asleep. I was probably three.
Once when I was in high school, I stumbled down the hall and stood at the railing above our stairs, most likely with a glazed look in my eyes, partially because I am blind without my glasses and partially because I was sleeping. My dad looked up from the computer quizzically. "Hi Kiwi, what are you doing up?"
"I have to do my Arab notes," I answered, dead serious.
"I see," he said. "I don't think you're fully awake right now." I denied this vehemently, convinced that I had simply to do some notes real quick. Arab notes. Arab notes? Wait a minute...
"Hey Dad?" I said, once I was back in bed, "I was totally asleep just then. Sorry."
"Mmm hmm."
As I said in a previous post, my parents and brother are quite used to my quirks. Every time I deny being asleep until I'm back in bed and awake. The funny thing is I mostly remember what I do, I just am firm in my belief that whatever I am doing at the time is totally normal.
Adam bought shelves for my plethora of books and we installed them over our bed. One night at about two a.m. I sat up and ripped the shelf off the wall, sending about 20 books tumbling into my lap. Ow. Ow, ow, ow, ow, ow, ow, ow. Ow. Ow ow ow. (That was the landing of the books. Somebody please, remove these libraries from my knees). Adam woke up, startled by the crashing and his wide awake (now) girlfriend sitting there staring blankly at him. "I ripped down the bookshelf," I confessed. "I was asleep though. Sorry."
"Why...why exactly?"
Who knows. Probably because I'm crazed. One time at a hotel (most often these episodes occur when something is different. Like a new shelf or something, you know, big life changes), my dad discovered me walking repeatedly into the corner of the room. He didn't so much discover me visually, because he is absolutely blind without contacts, but probably heard me banging into the wall and saying, "I have to get out."
Multiple times I have gathered all of my blankets and placed them in a neat ball over in the corner of my bedroom. I then return to bed (I guess) and wake up freezing with a vague memory of carrying a ball of blankets across the room for safekeeping.
I spent the night at my friend Liz's house when I was about ten, and once I stood up from my spot on the floor and walked around the room a little. She asked what on earth I was doing and I apparently explained that I didn't want to wear the dress with the puffy sleeves and went back to my sleeping bag.
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