Its a Trap!

After driving 11 hours back from Portland on Sunday, DJ and I both knew he'd do some weird shit at night. I needed to read a little to shut down my brain, so he fell asleep with a sleeping mask on to block the light.

I think I was  bracing for it all night, so when I woke up to him sitting up and standing up in bed I was pretty aware of what was going on.

DJ: "mumble mumble mubmlt arp!"
CK: "What's that honey, what's going on?"
DJ (in his i'm-totally-sleepwalking-so-I-revert-to-my-5-year-old-self-voice): "It's a trap!"
CK: "What's a trap honey? We're home, come back to bed."
DJ: "But... it's a trap!"
CK: "Honey, we're home. We're in Bozeman. Get into bed."

He finally got into bed. I fell back asleep quickly. Then the dog started moaning and whimpering in her sleep. All yowly and not quite awake. I could hear her paws twitching on the carpet.

The next morning we discussed what happened, and he was dreaming that someone set a trap in our bed. Apparently "It's a trap" is a Star Wars phrase?

Monday night was worse. DJ is now reading "D-Day" by Stephen Ambrose, in preparation for our Europe trip. His subconscious sometimes gets things confused though, and last night he drempt we were in a boat off of Normandy, being bombed by Japanese zero planes. After he woke up and calmed down, we chatted about what was going on. Then he asked where we were? Apparently he wasn't actually awake until that point.

And then the dog moaned again and I started laughing.

I wish these two beings would just sleep calmly!

Grenades

In considering out Europe trip last fall, we're both really excited to visit the Normandy region of France. Intrigued by D-Day, the history, and the chance to have a more authentically French experience, we've both been doing a lot of reading about WWII.

Dusty picked up the DVD set of The Pacific over Christmas. It's the compendium to Band of Brothers, done by HBO a few years ago from the Stephen Ambrose book about Easy Company during the Allied invasion of Europe. The Pacific focuses on a group of Marines invading Guadalcanal, Pavuvu and Peleliu.

Obviously, the stories have penetrated DJ's psyche, as indicated by the following conversation, held yesterday as DJ was headed out the door for lunch:

DJ: "do you realize I saved your life last night?"

CK: "What?"

DJ: "Yeah. Yeah you're lucky I threw that Japanese grenade out of bed before it exploded!"

CK: "BWAHAHHAHHAHAHH!!!! WHAT!?"

DJ: "Yeah, I was only kind of awake; I woke up with my fist clenched around something, but I knew that if I got out of bed you'd wake me up. So I patted you, said that I was only getting up to pee, and nonchalantly threw the grenade out into the hallway while I walked to the bathroom. You owe me your life."

CK: "HA, that's so funny! I thought you'd gotten up to pee, for reals, since you gave me the disclaimer!"

DJ: "Yeah, only after I 'threw' the grenade did I realize I'd been clenching my thumb in my fist."

CK: "crying laughing"

DJ: "By the way, that's a really good book."

My own weirdness at night

I've mentioned before that DJ does weird shit at night. Peering out the window, jumping out of bed, walking around the room, etc. It's usually totally unprovoked, sudden, and very intense for him. He's strange like that.

And last night I did something strange too, but only as a reaction to something he did.*

We're in bed, nice and cozy and asleep. And I'm dreaming about driving down the road in a very specific location about five miles from our house. When out of nowhere comes this
screeeeeeeeeeeeeecccchhhhhh.

I hear the noise and bolt awake, thinking in my dream state that we've blown a tire or something.

Me: "Dusty, Dusty what was that!!??"

DJ: "mohphf mmmhopmf."

Me: "DUSTY WHAT WAS THAT, SERIOUSLY?"

DJ: "My ass!"

My beloved husband had screeched out a fart so loud, high-pitched and abrupt that I jumped.

Me: "I'm going to punch you in the face."

*You'll note that my weird shit at night is a reaction to something he did... not something I dreampt on my own. Dusty, your farting, night-terrors ass is way weirder than mine.

Crabjuice

I love to read in bed, sometimes late into the night. When I was a kid I'd stay at my grandmother's for a week or two every summer, and would spend my time reading through her stash of paperback romance novels, eating Dole popsicles and reading until midnight in my room or the living room. It was awesome.

Of course, once you're married reading in bed before falling asleep requires a compromise occassionally. Sometimes I turn off the light when I could read longer because DJ can't sleep with the light on. Last night, after a day at work that left my mind rolling around a million other issues, I knew I needed to read late in order to fall asleep quickly.

DJ, being the 7 year old boy man he is, would jolt awake every time I rolled over, moved the covers, or adjusted my pillow in search of a more comfortable reading position. He had a t-shirt over his eyes, to further dampen the reading light, but with my momvement he'd raise halfway up and mumble incoherently "jaber jaber jaber". This happened four or five times.

Finally with the last one, I decided I'd subjected him to enough. I put down my book and snapped off the light. I lay there with my mind racing about work stuff, when the following occoured:

DJ (sits straight up, rips the shirt off of his eyes and uses it to mop up something on the top of the duvet): "mumble mumble mumbe (in an excited tone)"

CK: "DJ it's okay. It's fine. Go back to sleep."

DJ: "But there's cranberry juice EVERYWHERE!"

CK (giggling): "It's okay babe, we'll clean it up in the morning..."

DJ (sighs in a resigned fashion): "No no, I got it all." (gets up and walks into the bathroom)

(DJ gets back into bed)

CK: "What was that about?"
DJ (awake now, and not amused that I'm about to make fun of him): "There was juice everywhere and you wouldn't let me clean it up!"
... fast forward to this morning at 11 am when DJ comes into my office and reminds me of the weird shit he did last night. Apparently he thought there was crabjuice everywhere, and it was going to be stinky. So he took his t-shirt into the bathroom to rinse it out, where he woke up.

That DJ, he keeps me awake at nights.

Bathtub Brewer

DJ has a friend from high school that we spent about five hours with last summer in Seattle. He's that dude we all know, who graduated from college, has great social skills, and still lives like he's 21. And still chases girls that are 19, even though he's 32. We all know some version of this guy.

And you know what? I love this guy. We immediately clicked. He's a good guy at heart, and is just still stuck in an extended version of the mid-20's guy funk. And when he figured out that he really couldn't make it to our wedding, I was genuinely bummed.

As a wedding gift, he sent DJ a new favorite toy. A beer brewing kit. DJ has mentioned for about a year that he'd like to give it a whirl, and if there was ever a home project meant for an engineer, it's beer brewing. Oh the spreadsheets!

So last weekend, DJ spent Saturday brewing the first batch. We now have a plastic tub in our guest bathroom that slowly is emitting the smell of a stale burp. The kind you let go of at noon on a Sunday while hanging out on the Multi sofa after the last AGR party and watching everyone trickle in from shacking up. It's vaguely beery, but mostly very, very rich... like the burger you had for dinner last night.

Sorry, that was overly descriptive.

DJ's enthusiasm for home brewing has the makings of an obsession excellent hobby. On Tuesday night, I walked upstairs to find him in the guest bathroom with his tub of beer, counting the bubbles that come up into the percalator thingy. I asked him if he'd like a stopwatch to time the contractions; he raised his phone and told me he was all set. Excellent. My husband is counting the digestion of a giant tub of hops, barley, malt, I think there is some vodka in there, and yeast.

Which leads me to the sleepwalking part. Last night, DJ rolled over, patted me on the bum and did as follows:

DJ (patting the bum): "mumble mumble mumble".

CK (still not totally asleep, stirs, realizes that he's sleep walking. Remembers that he gets mad if she wakes him up while sleepwalking. Decides to let this one roll and see where it goes).

DJ (rolls back over): "mumble mumble, second tub, mumble mumble yeast."

Silence and quiet for a moment.

DJ (sits up, like a prarie dog popping out of it's hole): "mumble  MUMBLE!"

(reaches out and turns on the light, jumps out of bed and faces it, and then proceeds to move arms wildly at about waist level, as if stirring something. Or transferring it to another container).

(finally comes to, realizes what he's doing, and snaps off the light. Then proceeds to walk around the bed to the bathroom, his usual "I wasn't sleepwalking, I had to pee" cover.)

(gets back into bed)

CK: "Busted, beer man."

I'm getting the dog!

DJ did a little bit of sleepwalking last night again.

I vaguely remember him standing in the bathroom, without the lights on, doing something wierd. He remembers being by the bedroom door, trying to get the dog to sit on her leash.

The dog, of course was in her kennel.

Weird stuff at night...

Those of you who know DJ and I personally have probably heard a story about him doing weird shit at night. It's a kind of sleepwalking, usually occouring when he's super tired and run down. Since we've been dating he's:

• convinced me (in my sleep) that one of the kids he was coaching in baseball spilled a glass of water in bed and I had to get out of bed (he'd been all-baseball, all the time for the previous week)
• sat up in bed trying to catch the olives coming out of the downspout and into our bedroom window (we'd gone to the olive bar at Roseaurs the previous night)
• got out of bed and kicked the floor, thinking we were putting the dock ramp at the lake back in. And then been pissed at me for making him get back in bed (we'd been at  the lake, and had put the dock ramp in)
• jumped out of bed to peer out the window for no apparent reason (I have no idea)

Like many adults who sleepwalk, DJ gets both angry and embarassed when you catch him sleepwalking. But when I remember the episode later the next day, I'll go walking into his office and say "do you remember how last night you..." and we both dissolve into giggles.

The article I linked to notes that sleepwalking can be genetic. DJ's dad sleepwalks too; one night as the train came through town DJ's dad dreampt that his mom was sleeping on the train tracks, so he saved her life by throwing her out of bed!

I haven't been thrown out of bed (yet), but I am going to start blogging about the weird shit DJ does at night, both as a record, and to try to identify what triggers it.
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Friday, April 2, 2010:

• Dinner: burger and fries
• Alcohol consumption: two beers and a whiskey coke
• Environmental factors: the end of a really long, stressful and busy week. Actually discussed his weird shit at night with co-workers. Puppy waking up about once a night, thus disrupting sleep.

Episode: It's no suprise that the additon of a puppy to our household has meant less sleep for both of us. And DJ especcially struggles when shorted on his sleep. In the past he's drempt that the dog is out of her crate, running through the house, under the bed, or in bed with us.

On Friday night, I woke up to DJ pawing around in bed.

CK: "What are you doing?"
DJ: (grumble grumble grumble) "The dog--in bed!"
CK: "No, that's the bear blanket that you're petting." (we have a furry blanket that we put on our bed in the winter, referred to as the bear blanket).
DJ: (in a super whiney voice) "Uh uhhh! She's upstairs!!"
CK: (coming more fully awake) "DJ she's downstairs in her kennel."
DJ: (gets out of bed) "Uh uhhhh she got out!"

... then he woke up, and was pissed at me for waking him up. Later in the morning, after I'd gotten back into bed from letting the dog out, I giggled and let him know not to worry, the dog was in her crate. He did NOT think that was funny.

I think the standard procedure is to let sleepwalkers act out their dream, and not wake them up. But I can't stop myself as I wake up, and it makes for some highly entertaining conversations.