Pajiba

About seven years ago, I did a long ten-hour+ day of training to become certified to teach a group fitness program. For the second day, we had to learn some choreography, then present to the group while being video-taped and assessed by a master trainer.

As a life-long perfectionist, I was completely stressed out by this.

The night before my video presentation I awakened Mr Smith, screaming that the house was on fire and that we had to get the kids and dog out of the house. I was pushing him out of bed and running from window to window trying to open them. I could see and smell the smoke. He told me all about it the next morning. I remember it as a very vivid dream, but had no idea I actually spoke to anyone or actually got out of bed. I had never done that before, and have never done it again. Stress and fear are amazing motivators.

My Dad is a sleepwalker. His famous exploits include:
Getting in the car and driving it a short way down the street.
Corralling the poor confused dog into the bathroom and locking her in (dreaming that he was locking up at work).
Wandering out of the hotel in down town San Francisco in his tighty whities and Tshirt.
There was an incident on a trip to Orlando when I was 12 when we had discovered a really amazing beetle floating in the water at a water park and brought it back to the hotel. My little brother was in Entomology 4-H at the time, so it was going to be for his collection. We THOUGHT it was dead. We were mistaken. It had been left in a drinking glass when we went out to dinner, and gone when we returned. I woke up in the middle of the night to my father crouched at the bedside table between the 2 Queen beds in the room, muttering to himself and carefully positioning a drinking glass. I asked him what he was doing, and he very lucidly explained that he had created this complex system of PVC pipes and vacuum pressure that was intended to capture that bug, and deposit it in that glass, and he HAD to get the positioning of the glass JUST RIGHT. My dad is kind of a Bob Vila/Tim Taylor/MacGuyver hybrid, so coming up with an idea like this was really right in character for him. He seemed so surprised that I couldn't SEE the pipes all over the room. The thing is that we had actually changed hotel rooms due to broken AC. The bug was never seen again.

I once dreamed I was being chased, and I ran as hard as I could to get out of my bedroom door. I remember seeing my parents in the hallway as I went out of the door.

In actuality, I jumped out of bed and ran as hard as I could across my room and hit the mirror mounted on the back of the door face first. I woke up when my parents were helping me off of the floor.

As far as I know, that is one of the few times I've sleepwalked. Now, if we ever have a diversion about things we've said while talking in your sleep...

What is is with guys and the sleep-peeing?!?

"I have a classmate whose roommate got up to take a whiz. Sadly, what to his sleeping body appeared to be a toilet actually turned out to be a MacBook. This happened twice before there was a change in roommates." Sure he was sleeping, sure he was.

Oh, and my mom took Ambien once and my dad found her at 2am writing out and mailing $100,000 dollar checks to various friends of hers. Thank goodness no one tried to cash one!

happens to me all the time.
most recently, i was trying to go fight some mimes. told my wife i was 'gonna teach those grease-painted bastards a lesson'.
never remember any of it the next day...

My family says I used to, and one time they found me not in my bedroom, asking lots of questions about the boat. We did not own a boat, and we live in the Southwest. I don't have newer incidents, but apparently I sleep mumble things. Plus, I'm a super deep sleeper once I am asleep, so I've had various things thrown at me, hit me in the head, and I've been none the wiser until I wake up covered in pennies and paper-clips.

I was camping with my family in the Badlands of SD in 1997, when I was 12. My parents couldn't stop laughing the next morning when they told me I had sat upright in the tent, shouted "FUCK! SHIT!" at the top of my lungs, then lay back down without another sound the rest of the night.

I woke up one morning and my toilet tank lid was sitting at the foot of my bed. I walked into the bathroom and my shampoo, toothpaste and razor were in the tank.

Another time I woke up on the couch butt naked with only my boots on. Boots that were big enough that it would be impossible to have gotten my pants off without taking the boots off first.

The boots one was a night of drinking that I don't remember even leaving the bar so it wasn't sleepwalking, just sweet drunken nudity.

While putting myself through college, I had a tendency to burn my candle at both ends. I had an overload of classes, worked in the school to help offset tuition costs and worked the graveyard ship in a warehouse to cover living expenses. One wonders how I could find time to get enough sleep. But for a while I was able to carry through. I would catnap whenever I could, do my homework between classes or on breaks, and catch up on Sundays and Monday evenings when things tapered off and sleep like the dead. Even then things weren't easy because often I also had to do errands too (groceries, laundry, bills, etc...)

Well, one night my 3AM "lunch break" was called and it was the last night of a very long week. Fatigue was defiantly catching up with me. I sat in the break room and asked one of my co-workers to poke me in the arm in half an hour. I put my head down on the table, closed my eyes and in an instant, I sat up in my bed back at the apartment about 18 hours later. I had completely blacked out. Thankfully I wasn't needed anywhere, although any hopes of catching up on homework was shot. When I went back into work a day later, I ask the others what had happened. According to them, I clocked back in on time, worked my shift without incident nor accident clocked out at quitting time, got in my car and drove home. So I imagine since my life had been thoroughly routine for a while, I slipped into an "automatic pilot" mode where I did everything just as I always did and sleepwalked through work. Scary really.

Needless to say that was enough of a proverbial wake-up call for me. I scaled back the extra work at school and asked for a slight reduction at work. It meant I had less money to play with, but it just wasn't worth the alternative. I was later told sleep deprivation is just as dangerous as driving under the influence. I have no doubt of that.

My husband and I have been rather sleep deprived lately due to the five week old baby living in our house. Last night, after the baby fell asleep in our bed after a feeding, I asked my husband to please put the baby back in the bassinet. He reached over, picked up a burp cloth and lovingly placed the rag into the bassinet. He immediately went back to sleep, although I'm doubtful he was awake to begin with.

Mr. Courtney-To-Be sleepwalks and talks MAJORLY. The worst night was last summer. It started when he uttered the following words to me:

"Courtney. I want to make you proud. Of the Boy Scouts. We'll make you Queen Deer. Queen Bambi."

After that, he walked around in circles, then started pissing on the bed. While standing. He apparently thought he was in the bathroom. In a sleepy haze, I took the bedspread down to the washer (ultimately ruining it). He was talking to me about how embarrassed he was. Then he said, "You know Annie? She's a reporter, you know."

Annie is our dog. It was like a scene in a movie where I realize the person I'm with has been an infected zombie far longer than I know.

While in college I heard lots of stories about guys sleep-peeing on computers. Maybe it's a stress reaction?

I sleep-walk when I'm really stressed. I live alone so I usually only know this has happened because my pillow ends up in the kitchen. Always the kitchen. I have no idea why or if I'm eating while I'm in there. Frankly, I'm a little afraid to know.

In highschool I had been told by various roommates (went to boarding school) that I would sit bolt upright and say/yell things and then throw myself back down and go "back" to sleep. This was never a problem until my AP Bio fieldtrip when I sat bolt upright in bed and started screaming uncontrollably in front of the entire female contingent of my class. Yay night terrors! That may or may not have cost me a very attractive prom date. I'll never know. On the plus side, I remember waking up REALLY rested that morning.

I never have, but I had a child who would sleepwalkand had night terrors. Horrible. When she was seven, she walked out the front door at 1am. Fortunately Mr. Snuggie heard the door open, but what if he hadn't? We got a house alarm after that.

Another night, she walked into the living room with the toilet lid cover from her toilet in her hands. She stood in front of me and just GLARED at me, otherwise unresponsive. Totally creepy. Then she curled up on the living room floor.

There's nothing like a kid randomly screaming a blood-curdling scream in the middle of the night. Especially when it just cuts off abruptly. Good God, that child used to terrify me at night.

I have night terrors. So far, the worst one was sitting bolt upright in bed and screaming about the nuns who were coming to get me. I was beyond comforting for about five minutes, then just curled up and went back to sleeping peacefully. My husband hates it because it makes him feel helpless, there is absolutely no reasoning with me when I'm in the midst of one.

One night last semester my boyfriend and I were hanging out in a friend's dorm. He took about 8 shots of rum after drinking 2 beers but he didn't seem drunk at all at the end of the night when we got into bed. In the middle of the night I felt him get up and I assumed he was simply going to the bathroom so I didn't open my eyes, but a few seconds later I hear him peeing. He was standing next to my bed completely naked peeing on the floor. I started yelling at him, thinking he was awake but just really drunk, and he started giving me weird looks like I was crazy and saying things like "I don't know what you're talking about" and "stop being so annoying." I started crying because he was freaking me out so badly, and he stopped peeing for a second... but then started again, this time on the actual bed. I kept yelling at him to "clean it up" but he just got in bed and told me to "stop making such a big deal out of nothing." I asked him what was wrong (still crying) and he goes: "Nobody understands what's wrong with me! They'll never understand!" I asked him who "they" were and he just pointed at the window and then turned over and fell asleep.

Needless to say, I was completely freaked out and didn't sleep for the rest of the night. He woke up again a few hours later and rolled over to cuddle with me, not remembering anything that had happened. I told him everything and he thought I was messing with him until he felt the damp sheets.

I am a really deep sleeper. I sleep walk, talk and take off my clothes. It's essentially impossible for me to sleep with clothes on because I invariably take them off.

One night I went to bed with a burnt hand, and was having trouble falling asleep because of the pain. I go from zero to bitch in no time when I have any trouble falling asleep, so my husband lovingly suggested that I put a frozen bag of peas on my hand and a bucket next to the bed to push the peas into once the bag started to melt. I figured it was worth a try, and was asleep within minutes. When the peas started to melt, I, in my sleep, put them on Mr. Tits. He woke up covered in freezing cold water. All I remember from that night was laughing quietly to myself.

Another time, many years ago, I was living in a dorm room with a roommate. I had just gotten some chocolates from a friend for Valentine's Day and put them on my night table before falling asleep. My roommate came in to go to bed and found me glaring at her and protectively placing the chocolates under my pillow. I woke up covered in melted gooey brown chocolate, horrified that I had just shat the bed. It took my roommate a few minutes to stop laughing before explaining that it was chocolate.

Another man-peeing story:

I used to open my bedroom window, pee thru the screen and go back to bed. Never closed the window. Used to wake up freeeezing.

I used to have night terrors or some shit as a kid. I would be kind of awake and mostly aware of my environment, but a dream would be going on anyway and I couldn't stop it. One time the playing cards from Alice In Wonderland were trying to stab me with spears through the blanket. I kept dodging underneath it and screaming in primal fear. Tons of fun.

Other traumatically frightening sleep-related issues kept on occuring up through my teenage years, mostly recurring, waking dreams involving vague, terrible presences and distortion of perspective. It finally stopped when I started sleeping more than three or four hours a night.

Moral: make sure your kids don't stay up late reading like I did. I was fucked up as a kid because I liked to read and rarely went to sleep before 2 AM.

My father and I both sleepwalk during the full moon and we each have a set routine - he starts climbing out the window and I take my pillow and duvet and apparently wander around. The next morning I wake up with the pillow under my head and the duvet covering me at a perfect right angle, but I'm on/under the dining room table, in the hall, the bathtub,...
Needless to say I started wearing pjs when I moved into a doprm for college.

My husband awoke to me sitting up one night, surveying the room. "Are those crabs?" I asked. Then I grinned like a lunatic, sighed happily, and said, "They're gonna eat that guy." Lay back down and didn't make another peep.

When I was 19, a friend and I stayed overnight at his mom's house (alcohol had been consumed). They had one large (about 30 feet across) room in the back of the house where his brother and two sisters had beds. For some unbelievable reason, it was considered OK for us to sleep back there, along with his 16 year old sister. Around 2am, I hear screams from the other end of the room. My friend is standing alongside the bed where the two sisters are sleeping, busily relieving himself. His stream was arcing across the bed and hitting the younger sister full on. He finished up and climbed back into bed. After helping the girls dry off, we had to find a place for them to sleep. The little sister went to the couch, but the older climbed in with me.

I ended up marrying that girl.

Oh, and the best part was when the little sister exclaimed. "My pocket is full!"

Apparently, I talk in my sleep. Constantly.
One roommate retold the account of me tossing and turning on the bottom bunk. I paused briefly to say, "I'll show you a sonnet! Flowery whore!" Then I continued tossing and turning.
We can only surmise I was doing epic battle with our Lit professor. Either that or having the most pretentious sex dream ever.

Thanks this really helped, anyone wanting to burn wii games this is a really good read, cheers from the USA!