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JWR 2.34 - Sleep Tight


I really donít precisely know what night terrors are, but I have to say that I like the idea of doing something or experiencing something in your sleep that you have no memory of.  Dreaming, for the most part, is like that.  They say you dream every night, but how often do you remember what you dream?


I seldom have dreams.  I even more seldom (you know, less frequently) have nightmares.  Maybe thatís because things that used to scare me donít anymore. I can remember watching The Toxic Avenger and being so scared, but I recently caught a few moments of if and found it less watchable than JAG.  Ha, no no no, I mean less watchable than Diagnosis Murder.  There we go.


I like to try and scare myself.  Here are some key points.  1) Be alone.  2) Have it be late night.  3) Be tired.  Now weíre ready to be scared.  I suggest either a freakish zombie movie or a spooky rather than a gory movie.   Try Stir of Echoes over Freddy Kreuger.  I must say that it has been about ten years since thereís been a zombie movie made.  Or at least a notable one.  Zombie flicks are so cool because they make absolutely no sense the more sophisticated they get.  The more they explain why people have turned into zombies, the less realistic they get.  My favorite zombie movie was this one where the four people barricade themselves inside a mall.  Then they go and kill all the zombies (but how do you kill the undead?) inside the mall and hole up in there.  I donít remember the name, Dawn of the Dead, maybe.


But movies like that wonít give me nightmares.  Itís the crazy shit that happens in real life that will give me one now.  Or worse than nightmares, for someone like me who has a tendency to daydream, is a daymare.  Itís just a daydream gone wrong.  One minute youíre doing something cool, and the next, boom, youíre fucking getting stabbed by the honey you thought liked you.  It may be me.


I have had one nightmare in recent memory, but the details are just too freakish to relay.  Letís just say I donít pray to God, but I tried when I woke up.


I donít know if I have ever sleepwalked.  Thatís the benefit, you canít be held accountable for what you do when you sleep.  I can say that Iíve rolled out of bed a couple times.  You wake up before you hit which is really fucked up.  See, your body knows where the bed is.  You feel while you sleep.  I mean, you can sleep dangerously close to the edge and not roll off because you know.  Like if youíve ever slept with a small child or an animal or a hard-on--something you could hurt if you rolled over onto it--you know itís there so you know not to roll over, you stay stationary.


One of my freakiest sleep experiences hasnít happened to me in about a year, but when I would lay in bed, right before I drifted off to sleep, occasionally I would get the sensation that something dropped onto my body and I would jerk rather violently in my bed and, of course, not be able to sleep for a while.  I donít know what the hell that was, but I did not like it.  Part of me thought it was, like, spirits dropping on me--you know, because Iím so cool.


Iíve been told that I snore, but how do I know thatís all not just a big conspiracy to make me believe that I snore.  I mean, Iíve never heard me snore.  And that tape recording...how do I know that was really me, huh?  I donít care what Jessie says.  Anybody with ass smacking kids canít be relied upon to speak the truth.


And my brother tells me that one year when we were in the Dells, he and his then girlfriend (now wife) witnessed a performance by me while in a state of sleep that would freak out a number of people.  Apparently I grabbed the lamp from the night stand between the two beds in the motel room, held it up from a laying position and began speaking incoherently for, oh, not a long time, but long enough, Iím sure.  I then replaced the lamp and was quiet.  Whatís funny to me is if that happened today with them right there, I would wake up tied to the bed with an exorcist priest hovering over me with a Bible and a jug of holy water.  (Does holy water come in jugs?  Because I do...)


At least then what I said was unintelligible.  My friend Dan has had the privilege to be in the presence of me on more than one occasion that Iíve said English words and have even been responsive to instructions.


We were camping two summers ago and I sat up in my sleeping bag while in the same tent as him and made some fanatical statement about the big ball of fire or something coming or way.  Maybe I could see a light through the tent and thought it was coming our way.  At any rate he told me to shut up and I did.


Then last summer we spent the weekend up at his girlfriend Dawnís parentsí cabin and during the first night, I believe, he said I talked in my sleep.  Something to the effect of: ďFuck.  Fuck.  Fuck.  Fuck fuck.  Fuck ass bitch.Ē  Iím so crass that I canít be bothered to even say a word that isnít a swear in my sleep.


And I think that I can be quite a restless sleeper.  Have you ever wound up turned the opposite way on the bed from when you went to sleep.  Not like, turned over, but your head ends up where your feet started, and vice versa?


And just to be truthful, I will mention that I have woken up naked after having gone to bed with clothes on.  Yeah, I know.  But it ainít like that.


My roommate sets his alarm for four in the morning on Fridays because he has to be at work by five, and this causes no problems unless he does not come home that night and leaves his alarm set for the next day.  This means that at four I am awakened by an alarm as annoying and as loud as my own.  There was a period of four consecutive weeks that this happened a while back.  Each time: ďOh, man, Iím sorry.  Iíll remember to turn it off.Ē  The really annoying thing is, when you wake up from three or fewer hours of sleep by a pulsing wail of noise after a long day of work and a late night of drinking or whatever (late), you donít see so well and you donít walk so well and you actually manage to turn off an alien alarm clock (not just the snooze, mind you) and you shuffle back to bed only to be woken up by that very same alarm clock.  What?  Itís the same alarm clock.  What?  Itís the same alarm clock.   There are two individually set alarms that are both set to the same time to effectively wake you up if you turn one off absentmindedly.  It had actually been awhile since this had happened until about two weeks ago when his alarm went off.  I was unable to sleep through it, so I got up and went to turn it off.  Later he told me all I had to do was turn it off.  I had knocked it off the night stand and it was lodged between the wall and bed.  Teach it to fuck with me.


Of course one morning my roommate woke up and asked me if I had heard any noises the night before.  He let me tour his room which included a speaker that was knocked off the top of his TV that now laid behind his stereo equipment and a few overturned pictures.  I heard nothing.


But thatís whatís so cool about sleep.  I mean, letís say I killed some guy in my sleep.  I could just use this Rambling as a defense.  Iíd be all like, ďYour honor, Iíd like to enter ĎJohnís Weekly Ramblings: 2.34í as exhibit A-1 for the defense.Ē  And heís be all, ďProceed.Ē  Then Iíd pass out copies to the jurors, prosecution and judge and would point out key parts (minus this paragraph) and would rest my case only to be acquitted by fifteen minutes of deliberation by a jury of my peers.  Why?  Because I canít be held accountable for what I do or say in my sleep or by what I dream, thank you very much, cooky bitch.  Ah.  There, all better.


Great moments in film: Blazing Saddles

Bart: ďAre we awake?Ē

Jim: ďThat all depends.  Are we...black?Ē

Bart: ďYes, we are.Ē

Jim: ďThen weíre awake, but weíre very confused.Ē




Copyright © 2001 John Lemut