The Bride of Frankenstein and Other Scary Things

I am a notoriously violent sleeper.

By day... I am all sweetness and light.

[family eye-rolling]

By night... you better watch your back.

[family head-nodding]

I kick, scream, hit, and curse in my sleep. Usually, my violence is directed outwardly, but recently I've begun attacking myself. Literally.

This is the second time I've tried to scratch my face off in my sleep in as many months. I'm considering wearing mittens to bed. Curtis suggested I go as the Bride of Frankenstein for Halloween. Thanks, Honey.

 

Other scary news from the week:

King got a referral to an orthodontist. [Shudder]

 

Also, I saw this interesting Halloween decoration in the neighborhood:

Amusing? Disturbing? Puzzling? Yes.

 

Finally, we are expecting thousands of trick-or-treaters tonight. It is truly scary. We can't afford to buy "good" candy for the masses, so I buy bulk piñata candy.

This is 1000 pieces. We'll be lucky if we don't run out by 9 p.m. Seriously.

Happy Halloween!

Fightin' Crime

I am a violent sleeper. I don't mean that I toss and turn and steal the covers. I mean I perform acts of violence in my sleep. In my dreams, I'm usually masquerading as some super-hero (I dreamt I was a Power Ranger once) or Secret  Agent or some other do-gooder out to right the wrongs of the world. I'm kicking ass and taking names. Curtis and I call it "Fightin' Crime".

Apparently, the other night was so bad that Curtis, who sleeps like the dead, seriously considered moving to the couch. I punched him in the face while yelling, "Get the !@#$ out of here!" then I started rapid-fire kicking him in the shins.  Did I mention I curse in my sleep too?

I would try to describe to you what I was dreaming about, but my dreams are so involved and detailed that it would take forever.  But just to prove my point, here's a little snippet:

Our family stays late after a Halloween party to rob the furniture store where the party is taking place. After all the guests leave we start moving out the furniture. I have to take a break during all this to try and clear the porn off all the computer monitors that have suddenly appeared all over the room (I don't know... it's a dream).

The dream goes on and includes:

Me stealthily flying a helicopter past George W. Bush who is waking up from surgery on a veranda. Laura Bush is hugging him. There is a Secret Service Agent hovering nearby with a weapon that looks something like this.

I'm glad that I didn't try to smother Curtis instead of hitting him because I remember a part of the dream where King won't stop talking, and seeing as we are trying to allude the authorities while we are stealing furniture, I am particularly frustrated by this. So every time he opens his mouth to speak, I clamp my hand over his entire face.

The dream goes on and on, as Curtis will attest, because apparently I was kicking and swearing all night. This was not an isolated incident either; it happens all the time. After nights like these I wake up exhausted with all my muscles in knots because I've been clenching and battling while I was supposed to be sleeping.

Holy cow, I need to relax.