I wake up with a start and shoot to my feet. I'm glad I have a low bed, otherwise my head would've gone through the ceiling as I am very tall.

This comes as an awful shock to me. I don't normally wake up until I'm forced to by my alarm. I sleep very deeply. A heard of elephants could walk through my bedroom and I don't think I'd stir. In fact I tried this a couple of months ago with a herd of cats because they were the closest I could find to elephants. I didn't move.

So this must be serious. Am I being robbed? I listen for footsteps and scouse accents. I can't hear any. Maybe I've been shot. I quickly check my body for holes and red sticky fluid. Well I could need the toilet, so I release all my sphincters and the answer is no. I could be dehydrated. I check my mouth which, although it has been more moist, is not in need of liquid.

Am I dead? I can't see any white lights to move towards and I still feel pretty solid - apart from around my love handles where I'm a bit squishy. Maybe it's already morning. I reach over and hit the LED projection button on my fancy alarm clock. It projects 3:02 AM on the ceiling. Although it actually displays it upside down and it is very hard to read because I don't have my glasses on.

So what could it have been? The theory I settled on was that my subconcious knew that I didn't have anything to blog about today so it decided to wake me up for no apparent reason and give me a fright, just so I could give you a laugh.

I laid back down, cuddled up with my stuffed dwarf (Doc from Snow White), rolled over, started sucking my thumb and went back to sleep, making a mental note to remember this. Because I believe it is the law that every blogger must mention either insomnia or "middle of the night antics", at least once every six weeks.