A new low in hypnogogia

During the night, I became convinced that I had to remove the ceiling fan and light fixture from the ceiling, and furthermore that there was a full bowl of punch attached to the underside. It was all held to the ceiling with a single knurled nut; unscrewing that nut would bring it all crashing down, unless I balanced the bowl and the fan (which together weighed fifteen pounds or so) on my fingers.

In the middle of this process, I realized I wasn't strong enough to support both the punch bowl and the ceiling fan. But the nut was loose; I couldn't go backwards. The punch was already sloshing dangerously close to the edge of the bowl. So, standing there in the middle of my bedroom with one arm extended above my head, my fingertips pressing the ceiling fan against the ceiling, I called for adfamiliares to wake up. "I need your help, sweetie," and again, more peremptorily: "Sweetie! Please! Need some help!" She asked if maybe I was confused and dreaming. "No! Obviously I'm not dreaming!"

She got out of bed and came over to help. It was then that I found I couldn't rationally explain to her what was going on, and sheepishly realized I'd been asleep the whole time.

(Sorry, bun.)