Sleep Walking

Discussion in 'Dreams' started by heero134, Dec 24, 2005.

  1. heero134

    heero134 Member

    Messages:
    322
    Likes Received:
    1
    I sleepwalk sometimes, not sure what causes it. It doesn't happen very often, either, but when it does, it usually happens when I'm in a "concious dream." remember one where I was looking for something in my dresser, and I wake up and look and everythings shoved to one side from me digging for something. Another one I was actually getting ready for work in my dream. I woke up in the middle of doing so and finished. Really weird. Who else here sleepwalks or does stuff in their sleep?
     
  2. JavaJade

    JavaJade Member

    Messages:
    205
    Likes Received:
    0
    i haven't taken psychology yet, but my friend says stress can cause that.
     
  3. Mordiana

    Mordiana Member

    Messages:
    441
    Likes Received:
    2
    I sleepwalked once that I know of but I had complete memory loss of being too stoned earlier that evening so it might have been paralel with that..
    but sleepwalking is kind of scary.
     
  4. JayBird

    JayBird Member

    Messages:
    262
    Likes Received:
    1
    Stress can indeed cause that, and it can be mucho freaky. I remember an episode from June 2001. My father died unexpectedly, and it really messed me up. I don't know how to describe this. Anyway, we had gone through the funeral arrangements, contacting relatives, the visitation, funeral and burial, and post-funeral family mob scene, and I was a total wreck. I hadn't slept in 4 days. So I went to the family doc and got some meds for nerves and sleep. I went home, drank a few beers, and took the meds. I was conked out within minutes. The next thing I knew, I heard my dad screaming my name and and a loud, furious pounding at my front door. I looked at the digital clock on my nightstand...1:30 AM...shit. I got out of bed, heart racing. This couldn't be happening...but it was. The shouting and pounding continued...and I mean LOUD. As I stumbled towards the front door, the ferocity of the pounding increased to the point that the windows were rattling, and pictures were falling off the walls. As I approached the door, the hammering was so great that the door itself was bowing inward, with splintered pieces of wood flying off. I finally managed to get the door open...and there stood my father, in his burial suit, covered in dirt, his fingers ragged and bloody...screaming that I had buried him alive. It was too much, and it was then that I woke up...to find myself standing before the opened front door. [​IMG] [​IMG] [​IMG]
     

Share This Page

  1. This site uses cookies to help personalise content, tailor your experience and to keep you logged in if you register.
    By continuing to use this site, you are consenting to our use of cookies.
    Dismiss Notice