"the houses are haunted by white night-gowns"

It seems I've taken to sleepwalking again. I did this often when I was a kid, usually waking up in various places around the house. The weirdest was when I ended up underneath my brother's bed; in the darkness I thought I was covered with my bedsheets so I knocked my head pretty hard on his bed frame trying to get up. Its a good thing he was a pretty heavy sleeper back then since he probably would have freaked out at the sight of me crawling out like some pale, wild-haired bed-monster.

Another time I woke up in the kitchen, but instead of going back to my room I ate a piece of bread and went right back to sleep on the cold tile floor. I . . .don't really know why. The kitchen thing happened several more times and each time I'd alternate between eating either a slice of bread or a slice of cheese. What a strange ritual it became.

This time my sleepwalking has yet to take me outside of my room; the only things I seem to do (the only ones I've noticed, anyway) are to turn my ceiling fan on/off and fling my socks into the far corners of my room. Fairly innocuous, but damn, do I hate waking up to freezing feet.