Most people, when they sleep, do just that. Maybe dream a little, snore, and roll over, and that's about it. Sleeping has been quite an adventure, however, for people like Bob and me.

Bob was visiting me at college during the summer, where I was working. Pooped out, I'd fallen asleep on a mattress on which Bob was watching television. I have no memory of what happened next; this is what Bob reported to me.

Propped up on one elbow, Bob was peacefully watching TV when suddenly - Whap! Whap-whap! My arm flung out and struck him in the chest twice - and hard. Bewildered (and somewhat pissed) Bob looked down at me, ready to ask what the hell he'd done to deserve getting smacked.

I was still asleep. But as he watched, a half second later, I freaked out. Shouting "No! No! Get off me! Let go!" I began flailing my arms and legs like an epileptic seizure. My arms pounded the mattress, my legs slammed down again - Wham! - and again. My head kept jerking forward and slamming back onto the mattress. Bob said I looked possessed.

He threw his arms over me and pinned me down, to keep me from hurting him or myself. He shouted my name over and over again, until I slowly came around. I remember pulling away from his hand on my shoulder, then easing back down again. "Are you OK?" he asked. "Yeah, I'm fine," I mumbled, and fell back asleep.

I woke up an hour later with no memeory of any of this. When Bob started to tell me, I laughed out loud because I thought he was joking. He wasn't - I had the proof the next morning. I flailed around so hard that I'd pulled almost every muscle in my body; I could barely move. I still have no idea what I was dreaming about.

If my nocturnal sleep terrors are interesting, then Bob's sleepwalking is amusing. If not downright dangerous. From the age of 12 to 21 Bob slept-walked fairly regularly. Most children stop around the age of 10-12.

As a teen, Bob lost his high school ring and couldn't find it. So he went looking for it - in his sleep. Down the stairs he went to the kitchen. Down into the basement, where he gathered tools and a bucket.

Back up to the kitchen, where he proceeded to take apart the kitchen sink. Luckily Bob awoke, wrench in hand, before taking off the trap from the sink. (And no, his ring wasn't actually down the drain.)

Bob's college night-owl roommate returned late to their room one night. Inadvertantly tossing his keys on the desk activated the "Clapper," turning on the lights. There was Bob, sitting up rubbing his eyes. "Go back to sleep, Bob." "No that's OK, I have to get up anyway." It was 3 am.

Out of bed, Bob gathered up his towel and toiletries while his roomie, in vain, tried to prevent him from leaving. He finally let Bob go after Bob threw down his stuff and poked his finger into his roomie's chest: "I'm taking a f-----g shower whether you like it or not!" Well, OK!

Bob woke up, naked, wet, and shampooing his hair. Oh, no. I've done it again.

Soon after we were married, Bob and I had to adjust to each other's schedules. That usually meant him getting up and showering while I slept in. One morning the alarm went off as usual, and Bob walked over to hit the snooze. Then he just stood there. "What time is it?" I sleepily asked.

"The ugliest bartender," replied Bob. What? "Bob, what time is it?" Apparently getting angry, because he'd already answered that question, Bob insisted, "The ugliest bartender." Finally I realized he was still asleep.

"Bob, what T-I-M-E is it!?"

"Oh," (finally coming around!) "It's seven-thirty."