Boxing Springs

I’ve talked in my sleep for years. Apparently, I don’t squeeze in enough words during the daylight hours and have to ramble throughout the night to catch. No surprise there, right? I’ve been known to twitch a little and flail my legs occasionally. But I’ve never walked in my sleep, gotten up and eaten something out of the fridge or tried to beat up someone while asleep…until last night.

I sleep soundly. Really. Soundly. As in a tornado could roll through the middle of our house, and I wouldn’t notice. Tornadoes rolling through our home in the middle of the night are a real possibility in this part of the country so the weather radio sits on the nightstand right by my head. Anyway, I was in a deep, deep sleep last night when I started dreaming that a serial killer was sneaking up on me to attack me. (I’m such a drama queen, even in my sleep.) In the dream, I pretended I didn’t know he was there and waited until his hands were starting to close around my neck before I started fighting back. I smashed his nose with a right jab, and hit his chin with a left uppercut. Only problem is that I was really swinging, and I did it just as Hubby rolled over and laid his arm across my waist. If he hadn’t have moved quickly, I would have Sugar Rayed him to the other side of the Posturpedic. I don’t know if it was the dream or the movement, but I woke up to find myself kicking and swinging both arms with all my strength. Hubby was stunned to say the least, and so was the dog that jumped up from his spot at the end of the bed and started running for cover. I came within a hair of punching Hubby in the face. When I stopped I was wide awake and stunned. I couldn’t believe what I had done. Fortunately, Hubby was so tired he shrugged it off and went right back to sleep. However, I laid in the dark for a long time wondering how I could be so out of control and cursing myself for spending time on the internet because in my dream my attacker looked like this.

A little BraBABY karma perhaps?