I woke up in a sweat(well that's not unusual), convinced that I'd been sleepwalking in my old house in New Jersey-- a dream within a dream. And there was dream proof: I'd dragged a blanket from my house in Northridge into the old butler's pantry in New Jersey.
I've been anxious about my mother, who's in the infirmary at her retirement community. Her knee has given out, and she may have to move to assisted living. She's anxious, and isn't getting much information . She's back on her "who's been drinkin my liquor?" rag.
I have walked in my sleep two times. Once I was about ten, and leaving in the morning by myself, on the train, to go to summer camp in Hillsboro, New Hampshire. I couldn't sleep. My sister had read a book on hypnosis and practiced on me. Everyone said I walked in my sleep. It's a memory that's merged with the retelling.
The other time was worse. A month after my sister died, we went to Florida to visit Jon's father, who lived in a high rise on the beach at Marco Island.
I was in a state of great agitation. I should have gone to a psychologist I guess. The night before our trip I walked in my sleep and woke up in the big room, a long way from the bedroom.
Dinah was only three. In Florida she and I shared a single bed in a room that opened onto a small porch about twenty floors up. I was so afraid I would sleep walk and climb over the railing. I built a barricade of suitcases in front of the sliding door. Nothing happened.
It's such a weird phenomenon. I've read that there are people who drive CARS! while sleep walking.
