My freshman year of college, I slept on a semi-bunked bed that was raised about 4 feet off of the ground. Seeing as I wasn’t much of a party girl, I was certainly in it (and asleep) on this one particular Saturday night.
Have you ever woken up for no good reason, but you are instantly awake because something just doesn’t feel right? It’s an eerie feeling, no doubt. And this is exactly what happened to me. I opened my eyes to the pitch dark and felt movement. I saw a dark figure climbing up the foot board of my semi-bunked bed. I was paralyzed. I remembered my roommate mentioning that she had had the occasional sleepwalking experience, so I assumed it was in it’s prime, though I’d never witnessed it before. I called out her name, hoping to break the trance. I heard a timid voice from across the room call, “yes?” Now I’m in panic mode. There is an unidentified figure now crawling over me on my bed until it finally collapses on my body.
I would like to freeze frame this scenario for a minute and tell all of you fabulous women out there that this is not the appropriate way to handle such a situation. Laying idle will do you no good! When you see a dark figure, perhaps you should consider removing yourself from the prospective incident, or at least calling for help, or (by gosh) fighting back. But I’m a weenie and perhaps I figured if I lay still enough, this thing/animal/figment of my imagination would think I was dead, despite my call for my roommate….
I smell perfume and I feel hair, and I am immediately grateful that this is not a dude (like I would have responded any more aggressively anyhow). My roommate gets up and turns on the light switch after another urgent call.
Who is this girl? We cannot identify her. We can clearly see that she has gotten in to our (unlocked) dorm room already dressed in her pajamas and clearly a few drinks in. I run down the hall to my dear friend Caitlin’s room and insist that she wake up. I whisper-scream, “there’s a chick in my bed!” She naturally doesn’t believe me since I’m full of garbage a lot. She asks what is wrong with me and rolls over. Once I finally convince her that I wouldn’t be tip-toeing around at 2 a.m. for kicks, she follows me.
We wake up our mystery girl with a few swift shakes. She sits up immediately with eyes wide. Within seconds, she jumps off the bed, flings open the door, and races down the hallway, bumping her body back and forth between the narrow walls until she turns the corner and we can no longer see her anymore. Back to bed everyone? I learned later that she was mortified by her ridiculous behavior, no doubt as a result of a wild night out. She had come home, changed into her pajamas, and then went to the third floor (not the first) to go to sleep. Yes, we finally ditched the age-old trust theory of leaving your door open like a good neighbor.