Sunday, September 23, 2007

Sometimes I find myself sleepwalking, waking up to realize that I am already awake and standing, moving in a direction I don't recall intending to move. From what I can tell, since I live alone and can't be sure how often it actually happens, the things I do when sleepwalking seem to be directly related to two things that I worry about. When I am thinking too much about home concerns, about furniture or rent or my plants, I'll wake up in the middle of checking to make sure my refrigerator is working, which is something that I tend to obsess over in my sleep. When I am scared from a movie or book or thinking about the past, I find myself checking the locks on the doors and windows, convinced someone is coming in.

All of my dreams lately have concerned my ex stepfather and going to Florida, and last night I woke to find myself locking and unlocking the front door to make sure the locks worked.

But sleep and I have always had a difficult relationship, and I'm still not sure what it means when I wake up believing that there is a pile of snakes next to my bed, when I'm not even afraid of snakes normally. Since I live alone now there is much less documentation of my embarrassing sleep-talking habits, but my college roommates would be perfectly happy to tell you all about the ridiculous conversations we had while I was sleeping, all of which they wrote down to provide years of future embarrassment. Which, you know, is part of why I've lived alone ever since.

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