Crazy Night

Oh man, I have missed you guys. And Josh, my addicted friend, I myself checked the blog wondering if there were any new posts or new comments that perhaps I did not know about? As if the blog fairy came in my stead and life went on as normal while I took a little break. With an imaginary Jenny writing, and all my favorite people commenting. S we can be strangely addicted together. No shame! Cupcakes, Sprinkles, and Other Happy Things shall live on!

I was electrocuted last night.

Do not get too worried, it was clearly not life threatening. A terrible windstorm woke us up. I think the apartment was actually moving. Ryan told me that he had not slept for hours because I was restless and kicking him and stealing the covers. Likely story. He sounded sleepy mad, as if I was doing this on purpose!?! However, I was taking my first space journey to a friendly, cold star to meet new life forms, so I can see how I might have been a bit fitful last night. Especially when I realized my spaceship was broken and then I was shot back down to earth in a parachute and landed in a swamp in Louisiana with all the Survivor candidates. It was a crazy night in dreamland.

I felt bad for keeping him up. I knew we had a long weekend and we both needed sleep (and, technically it was still his birthday, and everyone deserves a good nights sleep on their birthday), so at 3:45 am I told him I would move to the couch for a little while so he could rest.
That is when I almost died.

One of the biggest storms I have ever heard opened my front door and came into my living room. It was laughing and shaking and blowing bad breathe all over the place. The room was trembling with thunder and I thought any moment we would blow away. I also wondered if this was just apart of my dreams…maybe my final approach before entering the earth’s atmosphere. It was all a blur.

With a fanciful mind (much like the dad on the movie Big Fish, who I greatly despised) it was hard to distinguish the storm from my elaborate, spasm causing dreams. That was, until I saw a lightning bolt go down the fireplace and light up the big metal bowl at the base of the mantel. I screamed. Ryan didn’t budge. I grabbed my pillows and blankets from the couch against the wall and jumped behind my other couch, only peaking around to see the lighting come in the window and hit the TV. After that, the clock on the wall that has been dead for quite a while now miraculously started ticking again.

I did what any intelligent person does when threatened with electricity and fire; I wrapped myself up in extra layers of blankets, which in and of itself, started to spark up with an unusual amount of static electricity. I couldn’t get away from the lighting; it was trying to eat me. Like a little kid who wondered if she should go wake up dad or not, I sat hiding behind that couch, Indian style and wrapped up in blankets, and watched that mean storm from my hiding place for thirty minutes or so.

Ryan found me this morning, wrapped tightly in my blankets, pillows surrounding every side of my head, lying in the back of the living room very close to the kitchen. He had no idea what had gone on. He had no idea there was even a storm. He had no idea I almost died.
And I thought about three things as he stood there and laughed at me, picked me up, and put me back in the real bed while telling me about the amazing night of sleep he had had.

1. God Bless Benjamin Franklin, the inventor of everything, for taming the beast of electricity.

2. A couch. Really? That was my best plan? I try to hide myself from electricity in highly flammable material behind a couch next to a metal lamp? Funny the places we pick to hide behind. Who are we kidding?

3. How could he not have heard that? Is he deaf? Did he slip into a coma? I was dying out there! How many people hide behind their couch in the midst of a terrible storm while there is someone in the very next room sleeping through it? And how scary is that? How very lonely and scary to be in the exact same place and not experience the same thing. One man’s good night sleep could be another’s worst dream.

So after our show tonight, I will sleep well. And for better or worse, I am not leaving my bed ever again! And are there any dream therapist’s out there? I might need your help.