Sleep Talkin' Man by Karen Slavick-Lennard Read Free Book Online Page A

walkers in the world. Compared to some of them, Sleep Talkin’ Man seems downright subdued! Once, on a talk show, we met a woman whose antics were truly impressive. On the mild end were the long bouts of sleepwalking where she’d pace angrily around the house wielding kitchen knives, or methodically wash all of her panties in the cat’s water bowl. On the extreme end was a story she told about the night that she went into her grandmother’s room, dragged granny out of bed, forced her into the bathroom, and tried to give her a bath.
    So many people have written in to share their sleep talking and sleepwalking stories with us. It seems almost everyone has a tale about the bizarre things their bedmate, sibling, parent, or college roommate has done in the late-night hours, and, yowza, there are some shockers! An entirely unfettered subconscious can prompt some astonishing behavior, including breaking into your neighbor’s and crawling into bed withthem, and (ew!) drinking the oil off the top of a jar of natural peanut butter.
    I’ve sprinkled our favorite fan stories that we’ve received throughout this book as “Letters to Sleep Talkin’ Man.” I love this stuff. To me, the best thing about these anecdotes and the others we’ve heard is that (usually) no one is hurt by anyone’s sleeping antics and, in the end, everyone’s got a great story to share.
    Letter to Sleep Talkin’ Man
    One night I was having this dream, but it was the kind of dream where it feels like you’re actually awake. So as far as I knew I was awake, but I was actually sleepwalking. I went into the bathroom and saw the toothpaste lying on the counter, missing its cap. I don’t know why but for some reason this was the WORST possible thing that could EVER happen and if I didn’t find the cap IMMEDIATELY, the world was going to END!! So I looked everywhere—on the floor, under the cabinet, everywhere. No cap. Time was running out! Then I saw the roll of toilet paper and had an idea …
    I grabbed the toilet paper and started wrapping it around the toothpaste. I wound it around and around till the whole roll was gone. So now I had a big ball of toilet paper holding the toothpaste in the tube, but NO! That wasn’t good enough! So I went into my room and opened my dresser drawer and
    grabbed a couple T-shirts and wrapped those around, too. Finally, when I had a bundle the size of a football wrapped around the toothpaste I felt relief. The world was finally safe! I put the giant toothpaste tube–ball into my drawer, closed it, and went back to sleep in peace.
    In the morning I woke up to the sound of my dad yelling, “WHEEERE’S THE TOOTHPASTE?” Suddenly I remembered the whole thing. “No, it can’t be,” I was thinking, “it had to be a dream …” But I opened my dresser drawer and … yep, there was the ball. So I started unwraaaapping it and unwraaaapping it—it took FOREVER. When I finally got all the stuff off, there in the middle was the toothpaste … with the cap on.
    Tammy S.
    Ontario, Canada

    Smug fucking chameleon,
with its googly oogly eyes.
Stick it in front of the TV.
That’ll fuck it up.
    â€œGoing to husband school. Always having to do better. The teacher’s a bitch and there’s no chance of graduating”
    I can’t tell you how many concerned e-mails and comments I’ve gotten from blog readers, checking to see if I’m emotionally intact after the latest STM zinger. For example, the above. That’s right, lying right next to me, Adam said that in his sleep. But no, he did not wake up to find me sobbing dejectedly or glaring accusingly. Granted, Adam does say some truly dreadful things in his sleep. And I suppose that there are some women out there who would worry that their husband was revealing some dark, hidden feelings about her that he dare not utter in the light of day.
    I am not that