“What?”
“It’s me driving.”
Iris took several seconds.
“You're driving the car?”
“Asleep.”
“Corrine…”
“I have video.”
“How far?”
“Only a few miles so far.”
“Oh my God.”
“Iris…”
“Listen to me.”
Her sister’s voice sharpened.
“Do not drive that car tonight.”
“I know.”
“Take the keys.”
“I know.”
“Not beside the bed.”
“Somewhere you cannot access half awake.”
“I’ll…”
“No.”
Iris interrupted.
“I’m coming.”
“You don't need…”
“I’m coming.”
Forty minutes later, Iris arrived with her husband.
They removed both vehicle keys from the house.
Corrine disabled the garage-door opener at the wall control and engaged the manual security latch.
Then they blocked vehicle access entirely.
Iris stayed overnight.
The next morning Corrine called her primary-care physician.
Dr. Mason Reed listened carefully.
No jokes.
No dismissal.
“When did you first notice this?”
“I don't know.”
“At least two weeks.”
“Possibly longer.”
“Any history of sleepwalking?”
“As a kid.”
“How old?”
“Maybe eight or nine.”
“Anything as an adult?”
“No.”
“New medication?”
Corrine listed everything.
“Alcohol?”
“Rarely.”
“Cannabis?”
“No.”
“Sleeping medication?”
“No.”
“Severe stress?”
Corrine almost laughed.
“Yes.”
“How much are you sleeping?”
“Six hours.”
“Sometimes less.”
“Any nights you go a very long time without sleep?”
“Yes.”
Mason paused.
“This needs prompt evaluation.”
“I’m referring you to sleep medicine.”
“Until you are assessed, do not drive if you feel unusually sleepy.”
“And absolutely prevent access to car keys overnight.”
“Have someone stay with you if possible.”
Corrine looked at Basil.
“Okay.”
Dr. Reed continued:
“If another complex episode occurs and creates immediate risk, seek urgent help.”
“Do not assume you can simply wake yourself out of it.”
Corrine swallowed.
“Am I losing my mind?”
“No.”
The answer was immediate.
“This sounds like a sleep disorder, not a moral failure or some sign that you’re becoming dangerous as a person.”
“But driving…”
“Driving is dangerous.”
“That is why we take the behavior seriously.”
“Not because you intended it.”
Corrine called Lena next.
Her therapist became quiet when Corrine described the footage.
Then:
“Do you remember your mother’s last words to you?”
Corrine stared.
“You need to sleep.”
“Yes.”
Corrine started crying.
“I thought I was sleeping.”
“You were unconscious.”
“That isn't always the same as restorative sleep.”
The sleep specialist appointment came quickly because of the driving risk.
Dr. Priya Raman spent nearly an hour collecting history.
Childhood sleepwalking.
Recent bereavement.
Relationship loss.
Sleep deprivation.
Stress.
Schedule.
Medications.
Caffeine.
Alcohol.
Family history.
Then came an overnight sleep study and further assessment.
The eventual diagnosis was a parasomnia involving complex nocturnal behavior.
Dr. Raman explained it carefully.
“People often imagine sleep is one simple state.”
“It isn't.”
“The brain moves through stages.”
“Sometimes parts of the brain involved in movement become active while awareness remains impaired.”
Corrine looked toward Iris, who had come with her.
“So I can drive while asleep?”
“Complex behaviors can occur.”
“Driving is uncommon but documented.”
“It is serious because the person may have limited awareness and judgment.”
Corrine whispered:
“I could have killed someone.”
“Yes.”
Dr. Raman did not soften the truth.
“You could have been injured.”
“You could have injured someone else.”
“That is why prevention is the first priority.”
No dramatic cure followed.
That disappointed Corrine at first.
She wanted a pill.
One prescription.