I’ve been woken up by a punch to the face. When I yell, he jumps up and says, “Sorry! I was trying to throw an arrow.” He rolls over and goes back to sleep. Another time, “a roundhouse kick” has hit me in the shin. I’ve been jolted awake by yelling in Russian (he’s fluent), accompanied by all kinds of twitching and flailing. When I woke him up, he matter-of-factly explained that he was “helping some Russian spies catch Mel Gibson.” Apparently, he was in the middle of hand-to-hand combat when I interrupted. He laughs at an “inside joke.” And just this morning, while we were spooning, he bit my back. When I (very angrily) yelled at him, he sleepily said, “But you were saying bad things about your friends and my hands were otherwise occupied.”
Jesus has what’s called REM Sleep Behavior Disorder, which basically means that he acts out his dreams. Luckily, he doesn’t get up and walk around during these episodes, because that could be super dangerous for him. I was listening to an episode of This American Life where a man was talking about his experience with the disorder, and he had done things like climb on top of furniture (to get onto an awards podium) and jump out of a closed second story window (to avoid a missile attack). The biggest problem is that, while it’s treatable, the treatment for it is Klonipin. Jesus and I both know that he would not be able to take the drug as prescribed, and would most likely abuse the drug. So for now, we deal with it.
Perhaps my favorite mumbling of his was the time I heard him say something about “passing the ball” and then, in his sleep, said bluntly, “That was a basketball metaphor. I make basketball metaphors.” Except that he doesn’t. I don’t think he’s ever even watched basketball.