Waking up to Reality
Today’s post is courtesy of my wife. My fumblings on a morning have provided her with a great deal of entertainment over the past few years and I thought I should share it with you. Sadly, this post isn’t half as rude or intimate as some of you may have suspected. It refers to various things I’ve done in my sleep during our married years.
The thing that amuses Katrina (and irritates in equal measure) is my inability to wake up even when faced with noise levels that most people would consider capable of waking the dead. I have always been a ‘heavy sleeper’ and past episodes have involved: sleeping through the house alarm ringing (which included the internal sounder and the bell box being next to my open bedroom window); and missing lectures at university because I slept through an old-fashioned “twin bell” alarm clock.
The fun really comes once I’m into the “waking up” transition between comatose and consciousness. To ensure I wake up for work on time, I have two alarm clocks – my mobile phone and a small battery-powered digital one. There has been several mornings when I’ve tried to turn off the mobile phone, when it’s the alarm clock that’s ringing, and vice-versa. I can also wake up, grab the phone, switch the alarm off, and go back to sleep with the phone still in my hand. I’m also surprised when I do eventually wake up that it’s in my hand, having not remembered a single thing.
With the arrival of Lucy though, things have changed. I’m now starting to wake up with a jump. Unfortunately, what I’m doing when I wake up also causes Katrina to wake with a jump too. Take the other morning for example (and I’ve done this twice now). In my sleep I suddenly leaned over and grabbed Katrina’s leg (the one furthest away from me), thinking for some reason that it was Lucy and she was falling out of bed. Why this should be the case I don’t know, because Lucy never gets into bed with us to sleep.
The best one was on Monday morning, when Katrina woke to find my hand around her throat. Quite calmly and politely she sat up asked me what I was doing. At this point I woke up, and realised it wasn’t necessary to get Katrina’s wind up like we would do with Lucy after a feed. I was only holding her very gently as if it were Lucy, but somehow I’d managed to get my hand round her chin in exactly the same way I do with baby.
What’s more odd is that there never seems to be dreams that go with these episodes. They just happen. Perhaps I should seek one of these “dream consultant” people to analyse them carefully and then confirm that I’m Just Plain Weird.