When Sleep Turns Violent
A strange condition turns a mild-mannered husband into an aggressive assailant.
Tom saw the ball take off a split second before he heard the crack of the bat. It was a line drive just a few feet off the ground, and it was coming his way. He stretched out his arm and dove to the right. The next thing he knew, he was lying on the floor beside his bed and had nearly put his fist through the bedroom wall.
With a bemused smile, he lifted his hand and showed me the scrapes on his knuckles. “I tell you, doc, I thought I was playing ball again. It was so real.”
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