The wife and I were chatting this morning, and she mentioned that I must not have slept too well, because she heard me moving around downstairs at 2:30 this morning when she got up to pee. Trouble is, that wasn't me. And I told her so. She said "I know your sounds, and it was you..."
Either I'm walking in my sleep, or someone is doing a good imitation of me. Or something.
Remember the post a bit back I wrote on the wife's dying charge's last words? As she died? Well the wife is out meeting with the dead woman's daughter right now, and giving her a sympathy card with her mother's last words annotated in it, along with a personal note of condolence from the wife. The last person in this life that held the woman's hand as she entered the next life.
Was it me? I told her if she hears it again, to come and check me, and if I am abed, wake me, and I'll pass out guns, and we'll go check it out. If I'm not in bed, approach with caution. Might not be the best idea to startle me awake.
I only walked in my sleep during one period in my life. My first son was newly born, and I was working my ass off in the oilfields in the panhandles of Oklahoma and Texas. Worse, I didn't walk in my sleep, I cooked in my sleep.
My parents and my ex and me and the baby lived in one of those big old huge two-story houses, like you see in the movie 'Twister'. The town where much of that picture was filmed in. To be clear, I lived in that town.
My Dad woke me up very early one morning. I was standing in front of the stove, eggs burning in a pan, a can of Coors Light on the counter, and in my work coveralls, they unzipped down to my belly button, the only other article of clothing on me being my underwear, and one sock. That was scary.
I really don't know. Was it live? Or was it Memorex... I know I go out of my body, I've told you that before. Women in bed with me have screamed when they see me floating above my body, looking at them. Without fail, they always describe my eyes as being empty black holes. When they scream, I snap back in, and get what I very rarely get, a monumental headache.
I travel all over, here and there, but to my knowledge, I have never tromped around the living room. And I've been doing this shit as long as I can remember. This is either something new, some Thing else, or I'm sleepwalking. And the sleepwalking part scares the shit out of me.
Spirits can't cock firearms. Or use them to deleterious effect.
I swear, if I find out I really am walking about at night, in my sleep, unawares, I will have the wife use restraints on me. If it turns out to be some sort of spook, God and I are gonna kick its fuckin ass.
And if some previous tenant has keys to the place, I will ventilate their ventricles.
Why can't shit ever be easy?