Yesterday, or, "There's a Snake in My Boots"

There’s a snake in my boots.

Oh Woody.  My condolences, but I’ve got you beat.  Last night, there was an albino python on my pillow.

Let me explain.  I'm afflicted by this interesting phenomenon known as night terrors.  These surface with pretty regular frequency.  Usually, I’ll just wake up with a scream, but sometimes…well, it’s a little more entertaining.  My episode may be accompanied by some semi-conscious speech. I also dabble in mild sleepwalking.  I’m a jack-of-all-trades.   I suppose this wouldn’t be so horribly disruptive if I slept alone. But no, I'm married to a dude who dutifully chooses to rest his head in my general vicinity each evening. That dude, my husband, loves to regale me with tales of my evening escapades.

Once, when dusk fell,  I army rolled off the bed and hid underneath it while the dear man was just laying there, sleeping and minding his own business.  When he asked me what I was doing, I shouted back, with equal parts alarm and sincerity, “You told me to do it!”

(He did not tell me to do it.)

I got back into bed and went back to sleep quickly after that.

I have no real recollection of this happening.  That’s what happens most times. But other times, I’ll wake myself up, mid-buffoonery. That’s the real treat, folks.

Enter, my albino snake.  Stage left.  Directly onto my pillow.

Now, mind you, this isn’t the first time I’ve had an imaginary night terror snake under my comforter.  Apparently, in the dead of one particular night, I worked myself into a frenzy over the snake on my legs.

My exact words?

“Randy, why is there a snake on my legs?  Randy, get that snake off my legs!”

Randy’s reply, based on his astute observations and general lucidity and soundness of mind? “Allie, that is your cat. Go back to sleep.”

Night demon-possessed Allie did not compute.  The screaming continued, presumably until I followed his directive and fell back asleep.

Well, last night I had the distinct privilege of waking up mid-terror scenario.  The premise?  An albino snake was on my pillow.  I saw it, clear as day.   My solution? To scrabble my way out of the tangle of sheets and blankets and perch myself on my husband’s feet.  That was the farthest away corner from the albino snake in my bed, you see.  Logic.  Things started to clear up for me mid-scampering.  I was a little confused as I heard Randy’s voice, like a distant fog horn, asking “Allie, what ARE you doing?”

I might have tried to tell him about the snake, but the words were slippery, like sand.  I had to get away from the…snake?  What in the actual hell? Why would there be a snake?

By the time I was fully awake, I was cowering in the doorframe of the bathroom, booty roosted atop my heels.  Also, I was laughing like a maniac, because I had realized what was going on.

“The….the ssssssnake!  The ssssssnake’s….not real,” I panted out through a wild fit of giggles.  Damn. I was Gollum, but with only slightly better hair follicles.

Lesson learned, my friends? Wake the f**k up, Woody.  The snake isn’t real. It never was.

DiaryAllie BeckerComment