Of Nightmares and Restless Legs by Bonnie Le Hamilton

 

I think I scared poor Patches out of one of his nine lives this past weekend.

Konnie undoubtedly sympathizes with him. She’s experienced it, too. The only thing is, I haven’t done that in decades—at least, I don’t think I have; Tom never complained.

And what is it that I did?

Well, this time it started with a nightmare. I’ve had lots of nightmares over the years, but well, it’s been decades since the last time, that I know of, that I kicked out during the nightmare.

The first recorded time was when we were preschoolers, and Konnie and I shared a twin bed.

She ended up on the floor.

Sorry, Konnie.

There were later complaints by our big sister and the oldest of our little brothers after having to share a queen bed altogether.

Our mother wasn’t pleased to find the blankets on the floor at the foot of the bed every morning either. Actually, neither was our babysitter when we spent the night at her place.

You see, I have this tendency to kick, sometimes a lot at night.

I honestly thought I outgrew it sometime between my early teens when I no longer had to share a bed with anybody, and when I got married, because, like I said, Tom never complained.

But now Patches, if he were human, could testify that I have not stopped doing it.

You see, early Sunday morning, I was in the throes of a vivid nightmare where I was attempting to keep a gunman from entering the place where I was. At some point, I decided pressing my considerable weight against the door wasn’t working and I needed to use my strongest muscle, which is with any woman, my legs.

I kicked out at the door and sent almost everything on my over-the-bed desk sailing off the foot of the bed, where Patches had been sleeping. I opened my eyes in time to see him streak out of the room with his tail all fluffed out.

Most certainly scared and possibly miffed at me. It was hours before he decided to come back into the bedroom.

Though I did realize that when I’m sleeping, or at least trying to sleep, he’s either clear at the foot of the bed, or up by my head. When I’m not trying to sleep, you can usually find him under that desk, and/or on my feet. Now I think he stays away from my legs when I’m sleeping.

Meaning, I have been kicking in my sleep. I just haven’t kicked the blankets off the foot of the bed in decades.

It’s amazing Tom never said anything.

I mean, my siblings were complaining about sharing a bed with me long before our babysitter would put us all in the same queen bed every time we spent the night. And not long after that, our mother made sure we had a twin bed to ourselves. I never had to share again, until I got married. And now I only share with my cat, who is currently curled up at the foot of my bed.

I just find it strange that I thought I’d outgrown that little habit, only to do it again in a most spectacular way.

And believe me, that was quite a mess. The only things left on my desk were one small tray holding some notepads, my laptop, and my CPAP machine. And it’s a good thing those last two didn’t go sailing.

The one I regretted the most was that cup full of my pens, pencils, and extra styluses. What a mess!

And I sincerely hope I never do something like that again!

I had honestly thought that kicking out like that was on par with night terrors, which all children eventually outgrow.

I lived through those. As Konnie knows well. My oldest child did that until he was around six, which included one time when we were visiting Konnie and her family in Washington.

Woke up the whole apartment. Sorry, but I did warn you.

Actually, I have a minor character in one of my stories that has night terrors. She did wake up the whole house, but some of them didn’t know there's a huge difference between nightmares and night terrors.

And maybe I should have a character whose legs move a ton while they are asleep. Not sure, since it’s been a long time since anyone complained about me doing that.

Though I could definitely write a scene where character A lays down for bed then seconds later sits up and starts talking to character B, until character B, in a desperate attempt to get some sleep, punches character A in the eye.

By the way, Jacki, you deserved that black eye!

Anyway, happy writing everyone!