We all have our little absurdities.  If you have read about the way I used to open cans of soda, then you know at least one about me.  And that’s just the tip of the iceberg.  Is it in the way I keep a katana in the basement and a pair of nunchucks under my bed?  Yes, probably.  Is it in the way I owned and studied books dedicated to the art of dim mak?  Definitely.  Probably worth a Google actually.  Is it in the way I have to chew food 22 times on each side of my mouth before swallowing?  No.  Because I made that one up.  Is it in the way I take my cats’ paws and place them on my lips as if to say, “don’t speak”?  I know just what you’re saying…and yeah it’s pretty weird.

But what if a person displayed some of their oddest behaviors while they were sleeping?  What if they weren’t aware of these actions until someone described them later upon their waking?  I know it’s not her fault.  She isn’t aware of what she is doing overnight.  She isn’t aware in those moments that she is doing something creepy.  She isn’t aware she is the star of her own home horror show.  Or that I am the fitful audience of one. 

To protect the innocent and avoid reprisal from my enemies, I will not give her true name.  For the purpose of this work, we will refer to her as Becks.  See, Becks is my lover.  Nope, that felt wrong.  Ok, let’s try something else.  She is my partner.  That doesn’t feel right either.  Is she my partner for mixed tennis doubles or we are in business together?  How about my betrothed?  No, I would prefer not to ever use that word again.  At least not until my life story becomes a period piece.  And let’s hope that doesn’t happen.  I guess let’s just go with my wife (readers: “my wife”).  

Before she was my wife, she was my girlfriend and early into our relationship she was convinced I was too weird.  Yes, too weird to complete the training.  A couple of her friends spent what now feels like an excessive amount of time and effort trying to make her think I was not a good match for her.  And this was all related to what they thought was weird about me.  One example of my supposed weirdness was that I would park at the high school and wait for her to get there.  Then we would walk into the school together.  Apparently, our mutual friends thought that was crazy.  Just because she was slightly ahead of me and I worked hard to make sure she didn’t know I was stalking following watching her there?  Let’s skip the rest of that story and my brief detainment by police and suffice it to say she was super afraid of a confrontation in which she would have to break-up with me, so here we are 17 years later still together.  

I need you to have this whole back-story on how weird I am and was so that you will be able to understand what I am about to tell you.  Her weirdness makes me appear perfectly ordinary.  If being weird is an acceptable reason for a break-up, I should have dumped her when I learned she liked to drink the hot water straight from the shower.  That was a weird conversation, mind you.  But I am not here to list all of her most absurd behaviors because we don’t have the time for such things.  Oh, and that would not be cool on my end.  Oh, and she would kill me, for serious, as I am apt to say.

Here is the weirdness we must discuss.  A series of oddities that are likely beyond her control.  Behaviors that occur while she softly slumbers.  Actions that give rise to my darkest fears.  The things I call night poses.  

Imagine you wake in the middle of the night.  You go to the bathroom and when you return to bed the sight before your eyes does not make any sense.  Your wife is posed with knees bent, one leg crossed and hip open, arms are over her head and her hand slowly strokes the back of her other arm with her fingers.  It was this very incident that made me realize blood could curdle in the presence of the right combination of factors.  And I don’t mean clotting factors.  DVT, yeah you know me.

I spoke to her, at first thinking she must be awake.  And still the thought didn’t bring me comfort.  Why would she be awake and doing that?  Her silence provided my answer.  She was asleep.  Or bewitched.  It was like watching an animated mannequin, unnatural spawn figure of some 1980s Rockwell/Herbie Hancock rip-off video , but without the dope beats.  I thought maybe she was possessed so I may have said, “the power of Christ compels you” a few times to test the waters.  No stirring demons gave reply.

And over the years, there have been further experiences of similar quality, oftern scary and sometimes hilarious.  Knees bent and one leg crossed with hip open, both hands behind her head with elbows bent like a man in a movie lying outside on a blanket basking in the sun with his wayfarers on, baby.  Or lying on her side with her elbow bent and pointing straight out from her shoulder toward the ceiling.  Or the time I found my son turned away from her, but with his arm outstretched behind him and trapped with her hands on her cheeks and his arm in her bent elbows.  

I have a picture of this last one.  People try to prove the existence of the supernatural through capturing images of the phenomena.  And so I have.  It is my proof, my truth.  I live with a deeply disturbed individual who exhibits parasomnia in the form of sleep posing and creepy motions.  Suddenly, my katana doesn’t seem weird now.  Does it?