The Wife of a Sleep Walker


I was starting to get my hopes up. I hadn’t experienced any noteworthy encounters with the sleep walking Fisch in quite some time.

My nights seemed more restful; my sleep less disturbed.

Could this be it? Could we be getting over the worst of the chronicles of a sleep walking Fisch?

Maybe the low gluten diet had more perks than simply lessening headaches and clearing the digestive track.

And the little-to-no-diary? Maybe it was working miracles in the over-active mind of Big Fisch while he slept.

These were the wishful thoughts I’d been having as of late.

That is, until the past few nights.

I was deep in sleep (or so I thought) when a sudden shake of the bed and a panicked, loud shouting forced my conscious state of mind to pry itself awake.

Normally, when one is woken by a loud noise, you pause (typically for a few seconds) and think what was that? What is going on?

Your mind has to make sense of the sound your brain just processed before you can react.

Well, as I said, that happens normally. As in, normal situations.

On this particular night, as I was jolted awake, I found myself going from lying on my side, to sitting straight up and shouting:

“MAAAAATT! STOOOOOOOOP!” all in a matter of a few seconds.

Somehow, my mind already knew what the commotion was and what I needed say.

As my eyes popped open, I looked over to see Big Fisch leaping, and I mean leaping out of bed yelling:


He had curled up in a ball near his pillow and leaped down to the foot of the bed in an attempt to save himself from the ceiling crumbling down upon us. In the process, he nearly whacked his head on the ceiling fan that spun above our bed in an effort to keep this warm-blooded animal cool as he slept.

Somehow I already knew that Big Fisch was getting worked up over the ceiling falling and once he took a leap for it, I knew it was time to stop him before he ended up busting open his head.

How did I know this you ask? Well, there’s only one logical answer I can think of.

I must have been conversing with him as I slept. Or at least listening to his crazy talk as he got more and more worked up. How else would I wake up shouting clear instructions to stop?

He landed on the floor about the same time as I woke up shouting “STOP” and my command was loud and stern enough for him to realize he may be wrong about the ceiling. He began to stammer that he was trying to save me as well and that he was so SO sorry.

But I was less concerned with being woken up than I was with the fact that I had clearly been engaged in his sleep talking as it escalated into his leap.

How many other conversations had we been having while we slept? Was I really getting sucked in and building up enough resistance to sleep over and through the commotion, let alone partaking in them?


And then there was last night…

I awoke in the middle of a right-armed karate chop in an attempt to block Big Fisch’s flailing arms. Once again, I knew…somehow…that he was getting worked up and acting as if he was in a fight.

I sat up, and with the force of a warrior I threw out a swift CHOP to his left side.

“OUCH LAYLA! Why would you do that?!”

“BECAUSE” I shouted back. “You were dreaming and I needed to stop you!”

My conscious didn’t know why, but I was shouting right back at him; already prepared to put up a fight.

He looked at me, flabbergasted, then rolled over and fell asleep.

In the morning, he remembered none of it.

And me? All I knew was that I had woken up already aware of the situation…already mentally engaged in the sleep talking craziness.

The question I most often get asked when I share these stories is “Doesn’t it terrify you when he sleep walks?!”

And my answer is truthfully no.

But you know what does terrify me? Engaging in conversations with Big Fisch as he sleep talks, and sleeping right on through it.

Because that means that we not only have one sleep talking monster…but we may very well have two. They do say that over the years you become more and more like your spouse. I just hoped it wouldn’t come to this.