big fat baby

Marty did the unthinkable to me last night in bed.

NO!! NOT THAT!! Get your mind out of the gutter!

We were laying in bed, and I was almost asleep, somewhere in drifty land... and he raises up in bed and sits very still.

"Waddare you doon?" I mumble.

"Did you hear that?" he whispers.

I am instantly awake, heart pounding. "What?!?" I say, too loudly.

"That noise??"

"WHAT NOISE???" i am near hysteria at this point. "WHAT did it SOUND like??"

"I don't know, it was just an odd noise... I don't hear it now, it was probably nothing." He rolls over and is nearly instantly snoring.

I, on the other hand, and lying stock-still in the bed, trembling in fear, ears trying desperately to pick up the "odd noise" that he heard. This is a near impossibility since the blood is roaring in my head.

I bet I layed there scared to death for over an hour, just waiting for the rapist / child molester / kidnapper / murderer to appear at the foot of my bed. Or for the quietly sizzling wires to finally catch fire, and burn us all to death in our sleep. I wanted to go and peek at the children and make sure they had not strangled on their blankets, or suffocated on their stuffed animals. Or choked on a bug. But I am stuck in the paralysis of fear.

I have always, as long as I can remember, had these night terrors. I have no idea why, and I usually can keep them in check. I have had to, because Marty is gone so much at night, and I don't like sleeping with lights on. But all it takes is something like last night to send me over the edge.

I remember the first year we lived here, I woke up at 2 AM, conVINCED that someone was on the roof... why in the world they would be on our roof when we have no chimney, and two perfectly accessible doors, I don't know. But he was up there, I was sure of it. After 30 minutes of being terrified, I woke Marty up. I harassed him and hounded him until he got pissed and went outside to look on the roof. He came back minutes later and said that there was nothing up there. I asked if he actually climbed up there to see.

"Dammit, Natalie! It's 2AM, and its freezing outside and I am not climbing up on the damn roof!"

So I started crying. And he got dressed again, and cussed the whole time, and went and got a ladder out of the garage, and climbed up on the roof. He stomped around A LOT so that I would know that he covered every inch of our 1200 square foot roof.

He came back in the house, got nakey again, and climbed under the covers, and never said a word. I kissed him and said "Thank you, honey." and turned off the light.

I layed there for about 5 minutes before it hit me and I turned white hot with terror again.

"Marty!" I whispered. "Marty!!" I whispered more urgently when he didn't respond.

"OHMYGOD WHAT??" He screamed.

"It wasn't the roof... someone is in the ATTIC!!!"

We didn't get much sleep that night.

I refrained from waking him last night. I try really hard to not be a crazy woman, but one of these days when I get murdered in my sleep, everyone is going to feel PRETTY bad about making fun of me.

I can't even watch scary movies. I feel sick at my stomach if i catch part of one on tv as I am channel surfing. Previews for theater releases of slasher films break me out in a cold sweat.

Last year when The Exorcist II was being previewed, I nearly had a panic attack every time the commercial was played. I saw the original when I was way to young to be watching it, and I remember laying in bed at night and staring at my louvered closet doors and waiting for a SatanChild to peek through the slats.

Anyone want to come to my house and watch the Smurfs Halloween Adventure???