Dreaming just for kicks
I've talked about my awake-dreams, but rarely do I have a dream that actually wakes me up. I had one of those last night. I'm in my house, but it's a dream version of the house--a bit nicer, and more U-shaped in the front, where the living room extends forward and the front door is in a recess.
I'm in the kitchen and someone is at the door. I don't want to answer it, so I hide, crouching in the corner by the stove. This is hilarious because no part of the kitchen proper is visible from the front door. I hear the door open, and apparently the front door was unlocked--the people there just come on in. It's the dream version of the lady down the street who owns Kelly and her daughter. I go over to yell at them--if we wanted you in the house, we'd have let you in! I make them leave.
Someone else comes to the door. Mom answers it this time, and it's this guy who's been harassing her (who does not exist in real life). He starts bothering her, and I go to the door to make him leave, and I yell for my father to come, and the guy's sort of like, oh, so that's how it is, you think he's going to help you. I go to kick him in the pants. I'm not sure if I missed or what, but I find myself kicking toward him a second time. I almost feel like I was hanging off the doorframe while doing this to get a better angle or something.
This was where I woke up: I found myself kicking my body pillow off of me and up into the air, with the covers flying off. AND STAY OUT. Like...I've not been known to sleepwalk or anything like that. Sure, with my awake-dreams I perform actions, but I'm legitimately awake and aware that they're happening. This was something new. And a little concerning, that I would so violently kick something in real life while I was dreaming about the same action. Weird. I can't tell if I didn't really sleep well last night or if I had too much sugar to start my day (out of milk, so instead of cereal I had frozen waffles and finished off a bottle of syrup, so a bit too much syrup overall), but I've had a bit of a headache for much of the day. I suppose the really surprising bit wasn't the kicking, it was how I defended my mom. We may not always get along, but in the end, she's family. Don't mess with her.
I'm in the kitchen and someone is at the door. I don't want to answer it, so I hide, crouching in the corner by the stove. This is hilarious because no part of the kitchen proper is visible from the front door. I hear the door open, and apparently the front door was unlocked--the people there just come on in. It's the dream version of the lady down the street who owns Kelly and her daughter. I go over to yell at them--if we wanted you in the house, we'd have let you in! I make them leave.
Someone else comes to the door. Mom answers it this time, and it's this guy who's been harassing her (who does not exist in real life). He starts bothering her, and I go to the door to make him leave, and I yell for my father to come, and the guy's sort of like, oh, so that's how it is, you think he's going to help you. I go to kick him in the pants. I'm not sure if I missed or what, but I find myself kicking toward him a second time. I almost feel like I was hanging off the doorframe while doing this to get a better angle or something.
This was where I woke up: I found myself kicking my body pillow off of me and up into the air, with the covers flying off. AND STAY OUT. Like...I've not been known to sleepwalk or anything like that. Sure, with my awake-dreams I perform actions, but I'm legitimately awake and aware that they're happening. This was something new. And a little concerning, that I would so violently kick something in real life while I was dreaming about the same action. Weird. I can't tell if I didn't really sleep well last night or if I had too much sugar to start my day (out of milk, so instead of cereal I had frozen waffles and finished off a bottle of syrup, so a bit too much syrup overall), but I've had a bit of a headache for much of the day. I suppose the really surprising bit wasn't the kicking, it was how I defended my mom. We may not always get along, but in the end, she's family. Don't mess with her.