Nocturnal weirdness
In the never-ending series of weird things I do in my sleep, here’s last night’s installment:
I woke up (or half-woke up, or entered that quasi-conscious state I call sleepwalking) absolutely convinced that the blankets on our bed were involved in Reagan-era arms-for-hostages controversy. I needed to shake the blankets out and re-tuck myself ASAP, or the weapons would destroy us. Denny was being all cuddly, and I couldn’t get the blankets shaken off as fast as I wanted to, and I’m afraid I was kind of rude to him. I said (or at least thought; I’m not sure whether I vocalized or not), “Get off me. I need to get the weapons off the bed. It’s for the hostages!”
You’d think as a 9-year-old I would have been traumatized by more normal things, like the cancelation of Punky Brewster. But I guess that’s not what made it into my psyche.
Damn that Denny and his infernal cuddling! You made the Gipper proud last night.
And like the Gipper, I recall none of this.
I have to say that I was half-hoping you’d do something funny like that in London. 🙂
Actually, the night we got back, I was convinced that the person sleeping in my bed with me was Sara Stevenson. I remember thinking it was a little unusual but not unacceptable.
Oh, no. It is all my fault. I should have never explained Iran-Contra to you. I’m so sorry. 🙂
Heh, when I was a little kid, I was PARANOID that the Russians were coming to drop a bomb right-on-my-house. Of course, since I grew up right in the flight path for both JFK and LaGuardia, there were ALOT of planes going overhead, and I used to peer out my window, just waiting for the one that might have the bomb on it.
How’s THAT for wierd messages that get into a kid’s head…
Geez, things were so much easier when I was a kid. I never worried about Iran-Contra or the Russians. I was just relieved I lived in a brick house, knowing the Big Bad Wolf would never be able to blow it down.
Dot, I had that same paranoia. Mostly after I saw War Games. Shall we play a game?