To Sleep, Perchance to Chew My Hand Off

Last night, the strangest thing that has ever happened to me in my sleep occurred. I woke up understanding that my right hand was being crushed by the bite of a human or large animal-sized mouth, and shouting, “What the f@$K?!?”

The husband was biting my hand. Hard. In my mind, there was growling and dog-like shaking, but I think I might have dreamed that part. The husband has no idea what that was about, because he was asleep until the shouting started. He’s lucky he didn’t get punched while I was still waking up, and that I am not left-handed.

This was made all the more dramatic because I watched 28 Weeks Later by myself last night; it’s predecessor, 28 Days Later, is the only movie that has given me nightmares in my adult life. For a second, I thought a zombie had me.

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