It was very early in our relationship when Earl discovered that I had a habit of sleepwalking once in a while. We still lived in the apartment and he found me standing in the walk-in closet of our bedroom. I was just standing there, seemingly asleep. He gently guided me back to bed, made sure I was tucked in and then went to back to bed. The next morning he asked if I remembered standing in the closet; I had no recollection of any of the event, but I told him that I have been known to sleepwalk once in a while. My mom tells of another favourite pasttime I had as a kid; I would shout out but be completely asleep. She’d check on me and I’d be making fighting motions in the air and be yelling about spiders or something. I wouldn’t let her turn off the light.
I still sleepwalk from time to time. Earl usually finds me in front of the window looking at the sky. Like before, he guides me to bed and I don’t remember a thing.
Apparently last night I added a new twist to my occasional nighttime activity for this morning my friend Greg alerted me to an e-mail I sent him shortly after midnight last night. The contents of the were a bit babbly and somewhat corresponded to a dream that I remembered having. I noticed that there were a lot of typos (something I try to avoid) and a strong element of incoherence in my dreamy prose, but apparently I was aware enough to compose the e-mail and hit send.
It would seem that having a computer near the bed is a dangerous thing.
Uh oh. You know about this one email you sent to your friend Greg. What about all the others you’ve sent in your sleep that you don’t know about? You better take your boss’s email address out of your address book right away before it’s too late!
Back when I was addicted to Ambien, I made my way downstairs, out the back door, across the lawn, out the gate, across the driveway, and into the neighbor’s side yard — where I promptly took a piss. Naked. In the middle of the night.