Bedtime is a crap time for me.

I’ve mentioned this before, but I experienced a traumatic event when I was a little girl in which I woke up to find a man cutting through my window screen with a knife. That basically ruined the whole sweet dreams situation for me, and led to an elevated level of panic and anxiety, especially triggered by nighttime.

You know, when all scary things happen.

I can no longer sleep with windows open, ever. I sleep with two comforters on my bed, always. I don’t let any limbs hangout, regardless of how hot it is, ever.

Andy has been pretty understanding of the situation from day one, and thanks to him and some easy home renovations, he’s built me a master bedroom with no windows. None.

He calls it The Panic Room. Which is obviously crazy romantic.

Hey the kids are napping, you maybe want to maybe sneak off to The Panic Room for a few minutes?

Abso-Jodie Foster-lutely I do.

I take medication, and have a weirdo ritual of soothing techniques, but any major interruption during sleep is a somewhat jarring experience.

One time Andy tried to wake me up seductively by going down on me, like, the girl equivalent of a morning blow job, I guess, and I reflexively gave him a black eye and chipped his front tooth.

I can recount the moments when I wake up from a dead sleep to find a child standing next to my side of the bed in complete darkness, staring at me like Macaulay Culkin in The Good Son.

What the hell, man?!

*whispers* Mom. What are you doing?

Well, I was sleeping, but now I think I’m sitting in a pool of my own piss, you?

I just wanted to say hi.

It’s 3 in the morning, babe. Can this wait until the sun comes up and I don’t think you are a poltergeist?

I mean, I’ve never seen Paranormal Activity, but based on the commercials, I assume it’s either about ghosts or children trying to sneak into their parent’s bed.

Which sets the scene for last night.

I was blissfully asleep, when I felt something brush across my foot. For a moment I thought it was Andy, but his caveman feet usually maim and draw blood. This was more quick and light.

I squinted into the dark but saw nothing, so I squeezed my eyes tighter and pulled the comforters up to my nose, willing myself back to sleep.

Then it happened again, this time harder and more determined. It grabbed my foot and began to pull me closer, I assume, towards the gates of hell.

I recoiled upright in bed, screaming YOU WILL NOT TAKE MY SOUL CREEPY DEMON.

Startled, Andy quickly reached for the bedside lamp and turned it on to find our daughter at the end of our bed, trying in vain to lift her small body up onto the mattress.

He told me I obviously overreacted.

But while he saw this…

Angel Gigi

(Dramatic reenactment.)

I saw this…

Demon Gigi

(Pretty fucking accurate.)

You be the judge.

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