When I was in my teens, I used to sleepwalk and sleep talk. If not every night, darn close to it. You can ask my friends. I'm pretty sure Rockin' Austin could tell you I was quite the chatterbox when I was asleep! Come to think of it, I'm relatively certain that is how my mother knew a large chunk of what she knew about my life.
I remember one "conversation" I had with my parents while sleepwalking. (Ok, so I'm not the one who remembers the actual conversation. BUT, I remember my dad telling me about it the next day.) Apparently, I walked upstairs, sat in the living room, and proceeded to do some serious attitude throwing!
As an adult, Coach tells me that I've recited grocery lists to him several times. I've also talked about our life together. The thing is, the life I was talking about isn't really the life we're leading. We aren't sure what life I was channeling, but should I ever find it, it promises to be extremely fascinating!
Now, it seems that this, um... talent?... is hereditary. As I'm sitting here on the sofa tonight, reading through some of your blog postings, Bug comes wandering (well, maybe it was more like staggering. Who knew that sleepwalking wasn't graceful?) out and sits himself on the arm of the sofa. He looks at me, and very earnestly says Mom, I needed your help. I've been calling you forEVER.
So, being the good mama I am, I told him I was sorry I apparently didn't hear him, but what was it that he needed help with?
Bug: Pitching. I need help pitching right now.
Me: Um... pitching? You're pitching in bed?
Bug: Well, yeah. That's where you're supposed to pitch from.
Huh. I never knew that particular factoid about baseball. Which could explain why I've never been a very good pitcher.
Probably a good thing I married a coach, isn't it?