While you were sleeping, I was walking. But I was also asleep.

My newest Facebook friend is a girl who lived next door up until I was about 7 years old. She was kind of my first best friend and I played at her house a lot. My memories of her have mostly faded, but one remains very vividly, and that was the time I slept over at her house.

I don't remember how old I was, but I remember waking up in their bathroom in the middle of the night. I was in their upstairs bathroom which is odd, because we were sleeping downstairs, and the bathroom down there was much more accessible. When I woke up, I couldn't remember how I got there, which really frightened me. I stood up and went over to the door to find I had locked myself in. I began to cry and struggle with the doorknob, desperately trying to get out as if I was stranded somewhere and this door was the only way to return to civilization. It wasn't long before my friend's mom came to my rescue.

This sleep walking episode isn't an isolated one. Fortunately, sleepwalking is something that belongs only to my childhood. Of course, I don't remember any of this, and barely believe it. At least a few instances have been recounted to me by my brother, Carter. I asked him to retell the family fave:

"When I was 11 or 12 I would get left in charge of Laura and Lisa, who were 2 and 6 years younger than me, respectively. They were pretty good about going to bed at a decent hour and I would usually stay up until Mom and Dad got back.

One night the girls had gone to bed, and I was watching TV. I heard footsteps coming down the stairs. This wasn't too unusual. Laura walked in. Okay. Fine. She went into the kitchen and opened the fridge. Something seemed to be a little "off" about all of this so my attention was on her and I forgot about whatever show I was watching. I observed her as she took a gallon of milk out of the fridge and set it on the counter. I had no idea where she was going with this. She then started unscrewing the lid off. The lid came off. The lid fell on the floor. Yet she kept unscrewing. And unscrewing. I wondered how long she could possibly stand there and mime unscrewing a milk cap. As my amusement turned to nervous disturbance, I asked her what she was doing, but I got no response. She just stared straight ahead with dead eyes and unscrewed the milk cap, which was long gone. So I jumped up and went over and took the milk from her and tried to break her trance. This seemed to do the trick, as she left the kitchen without saying a word.

I replaced the milk in the fridge and sat down. Then I heard the sound of running water in the bathroom. Nothing too weird there. But the water kept running. Minutes passed. So I ran over to find Laura in the bathroom, running water in the sink, and staring at it. Um. Okay. Realizing I was in the presence of psycho weirdness, I turned the water off and gently escorted her out of the bathroom. I watched her go back upstairs. There were no further incidents that night. But I mean, weird. Right?"

I don't know if Carter told me about this the next day or years later, but when he did he had me and Lisa rolling on the floor laughing. I guess it's true, I mean, you don't make this stuff up...do you? He actually omitted a detail -- which I appreciate, but I'm confident Lisa can fill you in on it if you want.

(image courtesy of Miriam Shenitzer)