Sweet Dreams are made of this...

I've always been a crazy sleeper.

I sleep well usually, but then a busy day comes along and WHAM, turns me into a sleepwalking and sleep talking freak. Let's just face it, there's a lot of goings on while I should be catching my ZZZZzzzs.

What made me think of this was my good friend Dominique's post (that drew national attention) about her sleep eating. Seriously,  her recollection of the instances made me titter for days. Crazy enough, she found out that what she thought was an annoyance actually turned out to be a real disease. I mean, how weird is it that we can live our not knowing that our little oddities or quirks are actually medical conditions. Heavy. 

I am in no way trying to top her condition or try to ride the gravy train all the way to Anderson Cooper (even though he is and always will be my silver fox), but I feel like I have stories upon stories about my cray cray happenings during sleep. And you know me...my big mouth = extra  babbly blog posts. And of course , in true Jess fashion,   the best time to tell you about my sleep issues would be while I'm having trouble falling asleep. A.K.A right now. 

Again, my ironic abilities continue to surprise even myself. 

I come from a long line of weird sleepers, and I know what you are thinking, enough with the genetics hypothesis...you can't blame everything on genetics...

Oh I can. And I will. 

The similarities are just too (erm) similar to ignore. 

My dad would have army flashback dreams, like he were in a fox hole and someone threw a grenade in and he would literally leap out of bed onto the floor knocking down dressers and scaring my mom half to death. It was in no way abnormal to us to hear my dad yell something random like "There's a duck in the hallway!" during the pitch black of night and then to hear a loud crash. We all just learned to either sleep through it, or just peek our heads in to make sure everyone was still breathing. 

Which all by itself would be considered crazy. 

Now let's pan the camera across the hall to my room growing up. This was where I used to as my brother described "speak in a jibber jabber" and walk into closets and doors. In between grenades, and fox holes and speaking in tongues, my mom and brother would try to get some sleep to no avail. In fact, many mornings were spent describing the events of the nights prior to my dad and I about what we had done the night before (total precursor to college by the way). Over breakfast we would laugh at my mom describe the fear she faced every night that my dad's big arm would accidentally knock her in the head. Or worse knock her right out of bed. 

I never had a really crazy sleep experience until I was in college but still living at home. I was taking one of those naps that you take for granted while you are in college, you know the ones...where you don't have any responsibility (ahhh those were the days) or children to wake you up and breathe in your mouth. One of those types. It was a cool winter evening which meant that my room had turned pitch black. 

I was having a dream that I was for some reason, I was  laying in the road, when all of a sudden a charter bus came barreling toward me. In the nick of time, I jumped out of the way  saving my upper body from being squished in my mind my legs had gotten run over but were bionic and were fine, because that's how particularly rowdy dreams are... completely irrational. I awoke to find myself dripping wet with a bloody mouth.In my narrow escape, I had leaped out of bed, head first into my nightstand,  landed on the ground, where a cup of water that had been sitting on said nightstand came to an upside down rest on top of my head. I.E. water all down my face and a fat lip. Not a very attractive look at all. 

Naturally hearing the ruckus, my mom and dad came running in, and as my mom was screaming her frustrations first with ridiculous dreaming, and secondly how she didn't pay all that money for my orthodontia to have my teeth knocked out by some charter bus escape attempt, my dad just looked at me with knowing eyes. It was my foxhole. 

You know how there are those people in life that are your Peas? You know, as in two Peas in a pod? 

My dad was my other Pea.

And he was also a fellow sleep freak...he totally got it. Without even saying a word. 

Since then I've had a few moments of Sleep Insanity, like making my husband in my sleep (okay demanding and shrieking) completely dismantle our bed sheets one by one because of the "rollipolys" on them, then rudely awaken to ask him "what the heck are you doing...I'm trying to sleep", or sleep walking and waking up on the stairs.

 I have yet to top my charter bus incident and I hope I don't. My mom was right, they paid too much for my braces to knock out a tooth (And trust me I straight needed those braces. My top teeth were bucked to the point of being practically parallel to the ground, and the rest of my teeth looked like they had been put into a Yahtzee cup, shaken up and thrown back in. Not a good look, I'm thankful for those braces) or even worse. Plus try explaining a fat lip when you're a stay at home mom, no matter the excuse people freak out and get really concerned. Ugh. Awkward.

And to this day, when I excitedly explain to them a really vivid dream I had,  my mom and hubster still look at me like I have a loose gasket. 

But that's okay... because for just a little while I had an ally in the fight against sleep drama.

Sometimes it's good to know that you're not the only peanut in the gallery. 

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