Dark Magic

Do you ever inexplicably wake up at an ungodly hour, only to fall asleep and then later question if it actually happened?

Usually I forget those incidences, forging ahead past the confusion that is the blur of my 5 AM escapades. Sometimes, it all rushes back later that day, in completely unrelated situation. I'll be sitting in class and think "Did I actually wake up at 4:23, pee and brush my teeth, or did I dream that?" But if there wasn't a centaur playing the ukulele in the corner of the bathroom, or my teeth didn't spontaneously turn into pasta, I usually assume that it wasn't a dream. I move on. I forget it.

But this morning was different. What happened to me this morning somewhere between the hours of 4 and 6 was so bizarre that when it did eventually flood back to my memory, I was actually unsure of it's basis in reality.

I woke up this morning at 5:30 with no blankets. Obviously freezing, I searched the foot of the bed and the floor. My sheets and comforter were nowhere to be seen.

At that point, I was fairly perplexed/disturbed. First off, if my bedding wasn't anywhere in the general vicinity of my bed, there could only be two options.

Option #1: Someone had come into my room, removed my sheets from my body, and took them out of the room. This would involve someone breaking into my apartment. It also involves malicious intent, and a stranger in disturbingly close proximity to me while I'm sleeping. Even though this scenario stars the worst psychopath ever, I'm not OK with any of those things.

Option #2: I uncharacteristically slept walked (sleep walked? Slept walk? Is there even a past tense for that?), took my sheets with me, and neglecting to bring them back to my room.

I was contemplating checking my refrigerator, or oven until I saw something out of the corner of my eye.

Having already explored the ax murderer option, I might have had a minor spasm of terror. And by "might" I mean definitely. And by"minor", I mean not minor in any way.

At the head of my bed, was a horrifying conglomerate of my comforter, my sheets and my pillow. I had apparently been sleeping on it like a pillow.

As a general rule, I don't wake up like that. Never in my 19 years have I ever woken up with my blankets under my head.

Now, in retelling this story, I realized that it doesn't sound as weird as it actually was. But if you will, imagine with me how this would go down.

First of all, it's early. You're sleep drunk and confused. You're cold and you're 47% sure that a serial killer has been in your bedroom. Now you realize that your blankets have somehow, ended up in an inexplicable place.
And the thing is- I've gone through this a ridiculous amount of times- I honestly have no idea how they got there. The only reasonable* explanation I can find for how any of this happened is some kind of Paranormal Activity situation where I'm being possessed by some spirit that has somehow become enraged with comforters. Then later I'll kill Mallory, no big deal.

(*Not really reasonable at all)