Secrets of My Sweatshirt and My Subconscious

It’s winter, it’s cold, and we try to save money by not running our heater.

I’ve taken several approaches to keeping warm at night, short of purchasing an electric blanket (since we’re trying to save money, right?).

I first tried layering extra blankets on the bed, but I found I simply felt suffocated when I tried to sleep, the heaviness of it all waking me up throughout the night whenever I needed to reposition myself.

Then, I tried warmer pajamas, which helped, but it wasn’t enough.

 I added socks the next night, thinking that would keep me warm, but I wear ankle socks, and I’d wake up with cold feet only to find the socks in some deep recess of my sheets.

So the genius solution I discovered?

I sleep with an extra-large hooded sweatshirt with my college logo on it. It’s big, soft, and comfortable, keeps my head and arms warm, and it’s not too heavy that I get suffocated by it. It’s perfect.

Or so I thought it was.

For three nights in a row now, I’ve slipped the sweatshirt on before burrowing under my blankets to play with my iPod for a while until I get too tired and am ready to sleep. I alternate between Scramble with Friends, Bejeweled, and listening to an audio book until I slip off to dream world.

I’ve fallen asleep for three nights with my new warm-wear idea, and not woken once throughout the night. I open my eyes to the sound of my phone alarm each morning, amazed at how rested I feel by simply adding a sweatshirt.

The sweatshirt.

Where is it?

I sit up in bed, each morning, and begin the hunt for the sweatshirt. Despite the fact that each night I go to bed with it on, each morning I wake up with it gone.

I’ve decided that just like my seven year curse (another blog post), I apparently have a sweatshirt man who comes into my room in the middle of the night, takes off my sweatshirt, hides it, and then leaves, all without me being aware of it. I call him Indiana Jones. It’s the same man who turns me around backwards in my bed every seven years.

This is the story I’ve created. If I ever pen a mystery novel, this creepy sweatshirt-taking man will be my main villain, psychologically toying with the minds of female college students by removing their school logo sweatshirts in the night, leaving them to freeze under their blankets with only a batman T-shirt on, causing them to wake in the morning having to hunt for the sweatshirt that has been hidden in the room somewhere.

Dare I ask what actually happens? No.

I’m assuming, due to the surface level hiding job my sweatshirt usually has been subjected to, at some point, I must “wake up” in the middle of the night, remove my sweatshirt, throw it, and then go back to sleep, only to wake up cold again.

However, I have absolutely no recollection of ever doing this.

The first morning I woke up, I didn’t even notice until the evening, when I pulled back my blankets to find my sweatshirt at the foot of the bed underneath the sheets. The second morning I woke up, I began looking around and I found the sweatshirt shoved between the bed and the wall. And finally, the third morning, I awoke to find the sweatshirt thrown across the room atop a pile of laundry.

Was I doing midnight laundry?

Did I do anything else besides remove my sweatshirt?

It startles me….

Why can I not remember?

I may never know. But what I do know is that my sweatshirt and my subconscious share secrets that I am entirely unaware of.


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