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Sunday, February 27, 2005

When I was about ten years old, I saw a program on television that detailed the symptoms of kids who had sleeping disorders. Some of the kids walked in their sleep, some spoke, some were even violent. Concerned parents contacted doctors who video-recorded children in their sleep to get a better insight into their troubled lives.

I'm not sure exactly what my thought process was after watching the program, but obviously the conclusion I came to was "sleepwalking is cool."

I would wake up in the middle of the night, drape my sheet around my shoulders, and stalk down the stairs,taking care not to be any louder or quieter than I would be if I were actually sleepwalking. My eyes would usually be half-shut, but in such a way that I imagined them to look shut to other people.

"My God, he must be sleepwalking," they would say to themselves upon seeing my late-night tours.

I would make a couple of laps around the house, and then settle underneath the stairs, where I would pretend to fall asleep until someone saw me.

"My God," I imagined them saying to one another. "He must have sleepwalked his way down here, and then fallen asleep under the stairs."

Sleeping underneath the stairs wasn't nearly as comfortable as my bed, however, and I usually got sick of laying there with my eyes half-open after about fifteen minutes and returned back upstairs to my room.