The Other Carrie

I like the sleeping side of me. I find her amusing. She lives a life I never recall but I see evidence of her existence.

This morning I woke around 2 am feeling like something was jammed into my ribs. Thinking it was the sheet balled up, I pulled at it, trying to get it out from under me. It still felt like I was laying on a tennis ball. Tired and irritated, I reached under me and pulled out a wadded up sock.

At that moment I realized I had pulled off both of my socks and one had somehow wedged itself under my ribcage.

Just crawling in to bed right now, I found the other sock, also near the head of the bed. I laughed and pictured how that all must have gone down. I'm amused to know that I lead another life at night that I don't always remember. It's like being two different people. And knowing myself as well  as I do, I can imagine why or how I went about doing something. The socks must've come off because I got hot. How they ended up near my head is a bit more mysterious.

I also love those nights when I remember nothing at all, because it means I slept. Deeply. Those are rare nights for me. Usually I do not sleep completely through the night, so I awake with memories of getting up a few times during the night. I also have very vivid dreams that I remember well into the next day, on a regular basis. So having a night that is a complete blank is rare. And to know that I do stuff during that time is just intriguing.