in which I need my own bed

Woke up last night with someone's hands clamped around my neck, clawing up fistfuls of my throat. This was a very confusing way to wake up, and perhaps that is why instead of launching into action or swearing, I pried the fingers off my windpipe enough to say, "Are you okay?"

 "I DON'T KNOW," my kid yelled back, still asleep and trying to throttle me.

"I'm your mom, you don't have to kill me, you're having a nightmare."

"OH, OKAY."

She let go of my throat and flung herself over onto her back, breathing quietly again. I stared at her for a minute, like maybe I had just discovered a badger in the bed, then covered her up with the blanket and made a pillow barricade between us. Now I've got bloody rakes down my neck, which is not a good look for toddler storytime.

Are you okay? Honestly. If an actual nighttime strangler shows up, maybe they will be touched by my concern long enough for me to thump them with my kindle.