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I was a pretty chronic sleepwalker in my teen years. Locks on doors didn't stop me for long. Had to wear PJ's to bed, 'cause it wasn't unusual to wake up out on the street. Mother would often find me in the kitchen making a snack, only to find everything still on the bench when she woke up in the morning. Sandwiches, biscuits, cold milo, perfectly made, but uneaten.
Can't remember more than four adult sleepwalking incidents, but one happened the other night that could have literally killed me. Camped on a remote stretch of Western Australia's south east coast, I woke to find myself on the beach, on a moonless night, knee-deep in the very cold southern ocean. Air temperature was about 2 degrees C, with a wind chill factor of ten. The ocean was considerably warmer, but I was wet to the waist from waves. Could see the difference between the beach and the thick coastal shrubs, but could not see a way up the ten foot high dune to get off the beach.
Was not even sure if I was on the beach where I was camped. Walking up and down, I checked my pockets, no torch, no lighter, no keys. My core temperature had dropped to the point where I was shivering to the bones, and death from hypothermia was not far away. I had jeans (soggy ice) t-shirt and light jacket. I knew if I didn't start running to stay warm, I'd be found dead on that far away beach. I made it to the far end of a three beach bay, and found a towel, so I wrapped my waist up with that, as the groin area loses heat very rapidly. Walked back the way I'd come, and saw a sandfall from the dune face. Figured that might have been where I'd slid down the dune in the first place. Managed to scramble my way up with great difficulty, and found the track back to my car and camp.
I keep a spare car key in my wallet, and started the car to get the heater going to thaw out my legs and hands. Frostbite must be hugely painful, because getting the heat back into my limbs was achingly intense. Mangaged to sleep till dawn without further wandering.
As I was the only person in that region, my footprints were the only ones on that beach, so I rugged up and went down to see what I could find. My torch and keys were still missing, and the towel I'd found was my own, so I went back to that spot, and found my keys. I could see my footprints heading into the scrub, so I started following them. It took me a good half hour to retrace all my steps, including where I'd walked into the ocean. So, including the walk down to the beach, I'd been sleepwalking for close to one hour before waking, and if there were more than one exit from that beach, I'd have probably taken it, because I tracked up every possible exit before running into impenetrable scrub.
Kinda scary stuff. Now, I've done some research on the somnambulism causes, and apart from possible fatigue, or mid-life crisis, I'm buggered if I'd know why I would do such a thing. The torch, which I found near the keys later, I can understand, but the keys and towel?
Anyone else have a sleepwalking story?
I have a couple more, but they can wait.
Can't remember more than four adult sleepwalking incidents, but one happened the other night that could have literally killed me. Camped on a remote stretch of Western Australia's south east coast, I woke to find myself on the beach, on a moonless night, knee-deep in the very cold southern ocean. Air temperature was about 2 degrees C, with a wind chill factor of ten. The ocean was considerably warmer, but I was wet to the waist from waves. Could see the difference between the beach and the thick coastal shrubs, but could not see a way up the ten foot high dune to get off the beach.
Was not even sure if I was on the beach where I was camped. Walking up and down, I checked my pockets, no torch, no lighter, no keys. My core temperature had dropped to the point where I was shivering to the bones, and death from hypothermia was not far away. I had jeans (soggy ice) t-shirt and light jacket. I knew if I didn't start running to stay warm, I'd be found dead on that far away beach. I made it to the far end of a three beach bay, and found a towel, so I wrapped my waist up with that, as the groin area loses heat very rapidly. Walked back the way I'd come, and saw a sandfall from the dune face. Figured that might have been where I'd slid down the dune in the first place. Managed to scramble my way up with great difficulty, and found the track back to my car and camp.
I keep a spare car key in my wallet, and started the car to get the heater going to thaw out my legs and hands. Frostbite must be hugely painful, because getting the heat back into my limbs was achingly intense. Mangaged to sleep till dawn without further wandering.
As I was the only person in that region, my footprints were the only ones on that beach, so I rugged up and went down to see what I could find. My torch and keys were still missing, and the towel I'd found was my own, so I went back to that spot, and found my keys. I could see my footprints heading into the scrub, so I started following them. It took me a good half hour to retrace all my steps, including where I'd walked into the ocean. So, including the walk down to the beach, I'd been sleepwalking for close to one hour before waking, and if there were more than one exit from that beach, I'd have probably taken it, because I tracked up every possible exit before running into impenetrable scrub.
Kinda scary stuff. Now, I've done some research on the somnambulism causes, and apart from possible fatigue, or mid-life crisis, I'm buggered if I'd know why I would do such a thing. The torch, which I found near the keys later, I can understand, but the keys and towel?
Anyone else have a sleepwalking story?
I have a couple more, but they can wait.
