There is a reason I sleep alone

I have a sleeping problem. Not so much a problem for me, but a dangerous problem for people sleeping in close proximity of me. Not flatulence, that is unpleasant, but not really a dangerous problem.

I will be having a dream and sort of jump up and act on that dream in a half awake/half asleep state. When I was young it would not be uncommon for me to wake up in my room, but my blanket and/or pillow would be in the dining room.

I frequently will have a dream someone is attacking me, so I will leap up in bed, punch my pillow several times and then fling it across the room. I'll usually wake up at that point and take several moments to convince myself it is only a dream. These events go innocently unnoticed, except to my pillow, because there are no witnesses, but when I started travelling with my friends, there were others to see my nocturnal fits of rage.

On our very first trip we went to the Smokey Mountain National Park in Tennessee. We spent the inaugural day hiking and exploring the region, returning to camp thoroughly exhausted. My night frights are more frequent when I am really tired.

We cooked up a hearty meal and tucked ourselves in our sleeping bags with plans of an early start in the morning. At some point, in the middle of the night, I was having a dream that someone was outside the tent shaking it, or trying to push it over. Apparently I had started muttering in my sleep, because Chad and Clib were both awake in time to see me leap from my sleeping bag in one smooth motion, unzip the tent in lightning speed, and charge out into the cool mountain air yelling, "FUCKERS!" They were quite aghast since this was really the first time we had slept around each other. I slowly realized that no one was outside, so I tucked my tail between my legs and reentered the tent. I didn't say anything and just crawled back in my bag. I think they were too startled to laugh, but they have more than made up for that by laughing about it constantly since.

In 1999 we took the Grand Daddy of all cross country journeys. 5 weeks to drive from Mississippi over to California, up the coast to Seattle and the through Canada to Alaska. We added two more guys, so the trip consisted of myself, Chad, Clib, Disco, and Biggie. More people to behold my problem.

We were camping out in Northern California, at Redwood National Park, and our campsite was a giant sink hole. It was about twenty feet deep and about forty feet in diameter. It was quite cool actually. We had spent the day hiking and trying to smuggle mutant pine cones out, and when it got dark we all piled into the tent. I fell asleep right away, and started dreaming someone was about to push a giant boulder into the hole on top of our tent. I jumped out of my sleeping bag and started yelling, "Get out! Everybody get out!" Clib and Biggie awoke with a start and looked around, frightened but confused. Chad, however, shot out of his sleeping bag, fumbled with the zipper, and was half way out before Disco, who had been awake the entire time reading, casually told everyone to relax, nothing was going on. Once again, I didn't say a word, but just slunk back into my bag, secretly wishing a boulder would fall on the tent to vindicate me. Maybe a small one.

And My Favorite

This one took place in High School, before my travelling days, but it is still pretty funny. One night I was sleeping in my bed, alone since I was not very suave, even in High School. I was having a bizarre dream that a giant Amoeba had enveloped a close friend. I was fighting ferociously with the Amoeba trying to rip it open so my friend could breath. I could see his face inside as he was suffocating. Finally I managed to tear it open and save the day. I woke up the next morning and my entire room was coated in small, dirty grey feathers. I had ripped my pillow open and beat it to death. It took me days to clean up all those damn feathers. That was my favorite pillow to boot.