Yesterday morning, we took our sweet pup Hallie to the vet before work so she could have a thorough teeth cleaning that had been recommended by different vets over the past year plus. We felt really bad doing this to her, especially since she had to be put under for the procedure. The only time she's been put under anesthesia before was when she was fixed, and it made her nauseous and super lethargic, so there was some basis to my concern. I kept picturing her lying there asleep, and wondering if she'd be twitching like she does during natural sleep. I know it's a common dog thing, but I swear Hallie's little twitches are the cutest. Only she knows what those dreams are about, but I have a feeling she's chasing flies in a good amount of them. You should see her hunt them; it's really quite impressive.
The thought of her in-sleep twitches made me think of similar things that have happened with me and my human companion, my lovely wife. Right as she's falling asleep, Amber twitches a lot. Much more than the average human, I believe. Sometimes they wake her up, which always results in the same thing: she'll look up at me and proclaim, "I fell asleep." "I know," I'll say with a chuckle, since I had been expecting that exact phrase.
It's not always so sweet and nice though. Like the time she punched me in the face, for example. We were sleeping, facing toward each other, and suddenly I felt a hand hitting me square in the face. I opened my eyes just as Amber was doing the same. She realized what happened and apologized. I asked if her subconscious was mad at me, but she didn't know. That's why it's the subconscious, I argued, and she told me to go back to sleep. To be fair to her, it wasn't a hard punch at all, but it was her hand moving toward me and hitting my face, so I think I'm allowed to still call it a punch.
I'm not immune to the twitch monster myself. My movements alway have to do with the same topic though: sports. More precisely, me playing sports in a dream and my body wanting to play along. My most common nocturnal move is to be passing a basketball to someone (since I'm a team player), then wake up when my arms get in on the action and try passing in real life. If it wakes Amber up, she knows what I mean when I say, "I was passing again."
A couple of weeks ago, it was another sport that tricked my half-asleep body into trying to play. I was on my back with my arm around my lovely wife when we were both awakened by my hand hitting the top of her head. "Sorry," I immediately said. "I was bowling." Yes, gentle readers, in my efforts to have a nice follow through and shake hands with the head pin, I unintentionally shook hands with my wife's head. Big difference, I know. I'm beginning to think it's a good thing I don't dream about professional wrestling; I wouldn't want to accidentally suplex my wife.
Ok, here's a story for you. It's related to sleep and half-awakedness, so I find that's close enough to put in this post. That coo wit you? Sweet.
During a break from college, I was sleeping over at my parents' place. I still have a bedroom there, while my brother's room became an office within two seconds of him moving out. What can I say, they like me more. In any case, it was just a little after daybreak that I awoke. I was on my stomach, and my right arm was tucked under the pillow. Suddenly, I felt something with my hand also under the pillow. I was confused, so I investigated it a little further. As I touched this object more, a very scary thought dawned on me: it felt like the head of a snake. I opened my eyes a little wider. "There's no way it's a snake," I thought to myself. "Be rational." With that in mind, I touched it again. This time it felt EXACTLY like the head of a snake. I moved my thumb around the front of it and felt its smooth mouth area parted at the lips. Then I touched around the top of the head and felt the bony points on each side of the skull. "Holy shit," I thought, "There's a fucking snake under my pillow! Ok, ok, here's what I'm going to do. On the count of three, I'm just going to jump up quickly and get away from the bed to let it escape." I took a deep breath and then slowly counted to three. Quickly, I leapt from the bed and started to back away. As I did that, a dead weight hit me in the stomach. I realized what it was almost immediately: my very asleep left arm.
I replayed the scenario in my head and figured it all out. Apparently, I had both arms under my pillow. My left arm was so asleep that it couldn't feel anything whatsoever. My right hand came in contact with "a snake," but it was really just my sleeping thumb. I kept touching it but never felt the sensation of being touched. My mind went a little crazy, and that was that. I'm telling you though, it really felt exactly like a snake.
Every once in a while when we're holding hands, Amber will stroke my thumb with hers and say, "Ooh, it's a snaaaake!" I guess I deserve that, because it would sound pretty ridiculous to just say, "Peter once thought his thumb was a snake" without any explanation. I know I'd mock me, at least. It's kinda like the time I thought my leg was a dolphin. Not really, just seeing if you're paying attention. Have a great Tuesday, my friends, and you'll be glad to know that Hallie's doing just fine. See you all tomorrow.
Got any sleep-related or non-sleep-related items to share with me? ptklein@gmail.com is there for the clicking.
2 comments:
You were on the right track with that numb arm thing. Many times in your early childhood, your father and I did hide a snake under your pillow. We thought it was a unique and cute thing to do. It made you into the man you are today.
My grandma's favorite story about my Dad's childhood involved snakes in the bed too. But he had put the snakes in her bed.
Apparently, since she worked nights, he put them there so they would have a nice warm place until the next day. Grandma came home early....
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