DID I SLEEPWALK AGAIN

DID I SLEEPWALK AGAIN

But then, why was I wet

**

As soon as I could walk, my mother was forced to become a very light sleeper. Why, you might ask. The answer is simple but curious. As soon as I could walk, I began walking in my sleep. Mom was ever so grateful that the lock on our third-floor apartment door was higher than my little arms could reach. Yet, she worried about what mischief I might get in to, like the three times, I’d get out of bed intending to walk to the bathroom, but instead of turning left, I’d turn right – right into my brother’s bedroom, where I’d sit on the corner of his bed and do my business! The first two times, she didn’t catch me in time. The third, she was able to steer me in the right direction!

Thankfully, mom and dad were sure to put anything considered dangerous well out of my reach. If not higher than normal, then it was locked in a closet.

One night, while I was a pre-teen, my mother heard some strange sounds coming from my bedroom. Quietly entering, she saw me kneeling at the closet door, pulling out whatever I found on the floor. That was after I yanked out all the clothes.

Mom had read that it was unhealthy to awaken someone who’s sleepwalking, so realizing I was still sleeping and not wanting to startle me awake, she softly said, “What are you doing?”

I replied, “Looking for that paper.”

She was surprised that my subconsciousness answered, yet that inspired her to ask more.

“What paper?”

“I don’t know but I know I have to find it.”

Looking at the mess I’d created by throwing almost everything from the closet onto the floor, mom carefully and gently put a hand on my shoulder and said, “We’ll look for it in the morning. Let’s get some sleep. It’s late.”

In my early twenties, I married and it didn’t take long for me to become a mother.

One summer morning, I had awoken to find every light in the house had been turned on, every door and window was opened. The coffee pot was filled and turned on even though the strainer sat empty of coffee.

My husband wasn’t happy with this latest discovery about me, and I wasn’t happy that my sleepwalking returned. However, we dealt with it.

A number of years later, we moved and a few years after that, he kept moving – without me and the boys. Oh well, life went on.

By this time, I had enjoyed my thirtieth birthday. My boys had reached the ages of ten and nine. What a joy those ages were! But as you’ve read in my earlier stories, strange things happened in that little house on Long Island.

One night stands out before the others. It was a Saturday and that afternoon, my sons and their friends wore themselves out playing street hockey. Although money was tight, I decided to treat them to pizza.

Finally, a few minutes after eleven, their friends said their “goodnights” and my boys went to bed. After spending the next thirty minutes tidying up, I gladly flopped down in my own bed.

Even being tired, I dreamt. Before I tell you my dream, I must first note that our bathroom was comprised of a tub (with a shower), the toilet and a sink. There was NO window.

In my dream, I was taking a shower, and the sun was shining through a round, stain-glassed window. All too suddenly, a very large dark, clawed hand punched its way through the window and grabbed me around the neck. I was losing air and couldn’t breathe. I also couldn’t scream.

As I fought to free myself, thanks to the soap and shampoo, my body was slippery. I twisted and slumped inside the tub, then crawled out to the floor. I was safe!

The end? Well, that was the end of the dream. Or so I thought.

The next morning, as the sun was shining through my bedroom window, I awakened to find my bed wet, my body was wet, my hair still soaked with shampoo bubbles in it.

I was annoyed that my sleepwalking had taken such a drastic turn. I got out of bed, walked the bathroom. I needed to take? finish? the shower I’d started the night before but as soon as I turned on the light, Fear struck. I saw bits of broken stained-glass in the tub. Where did that come from?

Then I looked in the mirror and fell backwards against the wall. There around my neck were large claw-like fingerprint-bruises and a scratch down my cheek.

As I backed out of the bathroom, I knew my dream was more than just a dream and I knew my boys would want to take showers as soon as they woke up.

Hurriedly getting a Crucifix from my bedroom, I hung it in the bathroom and vacuumed and wiped the glass from the tub.

Not wanting to frighten my boys, I used some old make up to cover the bruises and the scratches.

In the kitchen, I began mixing the batter for pancakes and thought:

Okay, then! Today’s another day. Let it begin.