Easy as Falling Out of Bed
by Bella Rum
I’m in here in the middle of the night again. I dreamed that someone was shooting at me. In an attempt to get on the floor and hide under the chair, I dove out of the chair. In reality, I threw myself out of the bed again. This time I pulled all the bedding off the bed and got entangled in it. I was unable to move and got a little panicky.
H jumped out of bed (his covers had been snatched from him), ran around to my side of the bed and tried to help me, but I was throughly trapped in the bedding. My spilled iced water had covered most of the bedside table by now, and was dripping all over me. That was some frigid water. I began to shiver; he wanted to get me off the floor and onto the bed immediately, but I needed a minute to collect myself. H has always been this way when something happens. He wants me to get back to normal immediately because he’s a little nervous that I’ve really hurt something. I insisted on sitting there for a minute while iced water drenched me, cuz who could ever get enough of that? I wasn’t exactly the most plugged-in person, if you know what I mean.
I never really got completely disentangled from the bedding. H kind of lifted me out of the mess and put me on the bed. My t-shirt was soaked by now, and I remember him making some lewd remark about having always wanted me to enter a wet t-shirt contest. I guess he thought he could get away with a sexist remark while I was still half in the dream, but I didn’t miss it. If I’m going to keep doing this, I need to cover the bedside table with glass or the water is going to ruin it.
H made me laugh a few times to get my head out of that awful dream, and now I’m in here with all my grandchildren covering the walls, a warm comforter wrapped around my lap and legs, wearing a fresh, dry t-shirt and comfy robe. H wants me to get one of those bed rails. I am officially moving into old-ladydom or back to childhood. Remember those wooden rails for the top bunk bed?
H never recalls his dreams. I’m the dream star in the family, but he remembered what he was dreaming when I woke him. It was Halloween and there was a knock at the door. He grabbed the candy bowl and answered the door. It was ISIS. At least it wasn’t Ebola. We’ve gone off the deep end around here. ISIS in the Cul-de-sac, y’all.
I swear that my next post will not mention dreams or sleep disorders, but I write about what’s going on around here, and my night life has been much more exciting than my day life.