I’m a wanderer, yeah, a wanderer…

THERE was an almighty crash and I could hear my husband bellowing: “what’s going on?!”

My heart was in my throat as I raced into the hallway, doona tangled around my ankles, expecting to see my beautiful man wrestling with intruders.

But it was just him.

Him, the clock, a picture frame and a decorative light-house that had fallen off the book shelf. The crash had sounded like someone busting through our glass sliding door.

Then came the second unexpected shock. I had leapt into the hallway from my daughter’s bedroom. It was her doona I had at my feet.

What was I doing in there? I had no recollection of hearing her cry and going in to settle her. And if I had done just that, I certainly wouldn’t have laid down and gone to sleep beside her. Husband said I had a mark on my forehead where I’d obviously been resting against something (probably my old Cabbage Patch Doll – Jennifer Irma – that Daughter had taken a recent penchant for).

It bothers me, the idea that I had indeed slept-walk into her room and taken up residence there. Not only does it undo any conscious efforts to get kids sleeping mummy-free, but what else might I have been doing?

I woke up with a sore foot the other day. Did I do something in my sleep to make it hurt? Go for a wander down the road? It does feel like a “stone bruise”.

I found it hard to get back to sleep after that. Images of the woman from Paranormal Activity standing, rocking gently, beside the bed kept coming back to me. Had I been doing that?!

My husband and I had an episode of “hypnagogic sleep paralysis” some time ago. That is, the feeling of being unable to move while someone stands beside your bed. But we both had simultaneous nightmares and one time I screamed so hard, my throat hurt the next day. So you can probably understand we’re a little spooked.

I wrote a column about that at the time and, if I can find it, may just share it with you…


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