He said that it happened not long after I went to bed.
I was sure I didn’t sleep a wink that whole Midsummer night, I remember lying awake listening to them partying and feeling alone and horrible. But it seems that I did get a little bit of shut eye.
It seems that the first thing they heard was me screaming from inside the cottage. Oh yeah, did I not mention that I sometimes I scream like a banshee? It’s awesome. I should record myself, autotune it and become a Youtube star. The Viking and the THM were racing up from the beach towards the cottage, when I came running out. At first they didn’t realize I was asleep (the running around and shrieking part tends to confuse people), so the Viking tried to catch me, to ask what the hell was going on, when – of all people – ABBA Girl saw the look in my eyes (I was once told it looks like I’m dead) and told him to back off.
I started to yell like I was trying to tell them something, but they couldn’t catch any words. Thank goodness for second languages. I took my nightshirt off. I screamed some more, then I lay down on the grass and went back to sleep.
Did you catch the part about me taking my nightshirt off? For the entire time I’ve known them, the Three Headed Monster has seen me naked. I can’t begin to describe the cold shower of mortification is washing over me as I type that.
When it was clear I was back in a deep, regular sleep, the Viking carried me back to bed, and then they decided it was best not to say anything, but let him talk to me alone when he felt the time was right.
So now we know. They don’t hate me because I replaced Jenny. They aren’t reserved with me because they’re Swedish and I make a dork of myself every time I open my mouth. They aren’t rude or jerks or socially incompetent weirdos. I ruined their Midsummer by running around all deranged and naked and whatnot.
And yes, I know it’s not my fault. I do. I’m just frustrated and venting. And yes, I have been to doctors and shrinks and sleep clinics, and been monitored and medicated and hypnotized. Night terrors are a thing. Most people just sit up and scream or whatever, mine just happen to come with added action and theatrics. It’s how I’m wired. I’m not a danger to myself or anything, I’ve never turned a stove on or opened a locked door; the worst I ever do is bruise myself if I crash into something in the dark. It’s no big deal, except for the fact that I freak people out and don’t even know it. Anyway, whatever.
I guess I fixated on this Jenny thing because I thought that maybe it would come with a story – like they were still together when he went to Thailand and he dumped her for me, maybe – that would explain the tension and the weird looks. But no: it’s not her, it’s me. When the Viking could see how upset I was getting, he repeated approximately a gazillion times that they all totally understood and it was no big deal. And I believe him, and rationally I get that’s exactly how grown ups should react – but I also know that in the real, non PC world, it’s not a great first impression.