Saturday, 20 June 2009
So, it turns out that I sleepread.
That's right. I read in my sleep.
I knew my parents went wrong somewhere.
Okay, so lately I've been having troubles sleeping. Well, not sleeping exactly, more like... Not waking up at 5 am to open up the window that is dangerously located directly next to my bed, the window of which my mother constantly fears that I will one day roll out of.
And sometimes my mom will come into my room around that time and tell me something, and I will reply to her, and perhaps even hold a conversation, despite the fact that I am 98% asleep.
So last week I was lying in my bed, fast asleep, when my mother rudely intruded upon me. I awoke upon her arrival, and even when she asked me some very odd questions, I answered her as if they were completely normal.
"Have you been awake all night?" (Mom)
"You should take *names a drug that I sometimes take to help me sleep*."
"No, it's too late. I have to take that earlier, it takes awhile to kick in."
"Well, try to get some sleep."
Now, when I look back on this memory, there is one strange thing I see (besides the fact that I held up a conversation as if I was wide awake): I was sitting up.
The next day I was talking to this mother-creature. I don't know how the topic came up, but we started talking about my complete lack of sleep.
"Wait... What are you talking about? You woke me up!" (Me)
"Huh? No, you said that you'd been up all night! You were reading when I walked in!" (Mom)
"No, I was sleeping!"
Both: "Wait... What?"
So the moral of this story is: if you ever see a weird Courtney-person on your doorstep at 5 o'clock in the morning, a screw driver in her hand, please kindly point her in the direction of the nearest bed or sofa and go back to sleep.