Insomnia, midnight snacks, and nightmares.

So I fell asleep early last night, while reading, and was awakened sometime around 1:30AM by my tummy reminding me that I had forgotten to feed it dinner. So I toddle out to the kitchen to whip up a midnight snack.

Now, everybody has their favorite midnight snack. Some folks do ice cream, others popcorn or breakfast cereal. I had a friend who'd wake everyone in the apartment up by busting open a bag of Cool Ranch Doritos, dumping them into a glass bowl at 3AM (plastic too quiet?) and munching them loudly. My choice last night? Well, I'm here to tell you that Clifty Farms sells heaven in 1.125lb tubs. The pulled pork barbecue in vinegar sauce is the best, although they also offer sweeter tomato-base sauce and a mustard sauce for heathens from across the mountains. The size means you can throw the whole tub in the microwave, chow down on about half a pound of freakin' delicious barbecue (seriously, for you yankees out there, unless it's Clifty Farms, don't waste your time on grocery store "BBQ",) and still have just over half a pound to re-heat for lunch the next day.

One thing you should not have with your delicious smoked pulled pork in vinegar sauce that makes your mouth water (sorry!) midnight snack is two cans of Vault Zero. If you were to drink two cans of Vault Zero, especially on a night that your cat felt it important to remind mommy over and over and over again how much she loves you by head-butting you and licking your ear while you're trying to fall asleep, you might have difficulty drifting back off again. I know I did.

Worst of all, after I finally nodded off, I dreamed I heard something outside. In my dream, I vividly imagined walking to the windows by my door and looking down into the yard, and the motion detector lights on both corners of the house were on. (You'd think I would have twigged to the fact that it was a dream right there, since there's only a motion detector light on one corner of the house visible from my front door, but anyway...) So I cut on the light switch by the door and there was a dude coming up the stairs. From my vantage point I'm looking straight down on this big guy, who I don't know, coming up my stairs to my front door at three in the AM. I live on a secluded semi-rural dead end, he ain't here to ask directions. And I'm. Empty. Handed.

I ran back toward the bedroom. He forced the front door. He was wearing this horrible '80s down vest; gray, with horizontal rainbow striping across the chest. I grabbed for my AR15 and it fell on the floor and all I could do was think about getting my hands on a loaded gun. I grabbed for the .38 snub nose I keep near the bed because I know it's loaded and I can't fumble it and I turn and...

...wake up...

...not gently...

...because the cat has just picked that time to bat at the front door chimes. I am bolt upright in bed, heart racing, covers thrown back. Get my hand on the .38. Suddenly I'm standing in my bedroom doorway looking across the living space towards the closed front door. Closed. It's closed. Room empty. No bad guy. Dream.

I'm good and awake now.

And the gun is in both hands. In the low ready (a safe position, pointed downwards at a 45 degree angle.) My finger is off the trigger. And I'm peeking toward the front door from behind cover. I have never been so thankful for all the training and years of repetitive practice as I was at that moment. Whatever my feet were doing, my hands were on autopilot once they touched the gun and never once violated the Four Rules.

I have never had a nightmare that vivid before, and I hope I never do again. But if I do, I hope it happens while my heart is still fairly young and fit, 'cause I don't think I'd like to pressure-test an old circulatory system the way I did last night...