Why I Should Never Read When I'm Tired (also known as Return of the Nazis)

I don't know if any of you have picked up on this, but my brain works rather retardedly.
It tends to overthink EVERYTHING whenever it possibly can, which causes me to have a highly overactive imagination. And while this imagination makes for some AWESOME dreams, and some really cool ideas for stories I could write, it also causes many problems for me.

The most common problem occurs when I read immediately before bed, or at any time when I'm really tired. And its only a really bad problem when I read scary books, such as almost anything by Stephen King.
What happens is I'll read and read and read, getting so caught up in the story that I stop hearing things and feeling things and paying attention to the clock, so then suddenly I'll snap out of my trance 2 hours later having to pee like a motherfucker, in some strange, horribly uncomfortable position that I wasn't in before. Because I get so intensely involved in the story, I sometimes forget that the story isn't real.
That only really happens when I'm super tired and on the edge of delirium, so please don't call in the authorities to haul me off in a white coat because I think fictional stories are real. I know they're not real. But when I'm tired, the logical side of my brain falls asleep first, so even though I KNOW certain things aren't real and can't happen, I can't seem to fully convince myself of this.
Once those lines of reality get blurred, I usually have a hard time falling asleep, because I'll convince myself that the terrifying thing in the book is actually real and is somehow in my room, waiting for me to fall asleep so it can cart me off into one of the various alternate dimensions that exist in Stephen King's books.

Note: this phenomenon isn't confined to books. If I see a movie that has any sort of scary thing in it, even if it isn't really a scary movie, I tend to fixate on that thing and am able to vivedly picture it in my room.

My brain takes shadows and the dark shapes of things in my room and transforms them into terrible, horrible monsters.
And because the rational side of my brain already pooped out, I'm left alone with these vague hallucinations, unable to convince myself that it's all in my head and thus unable to fall asleep, despite how devastatingly tired I am.

What does this have to do with Nazis?
Wait and see.
I just wanted to explain exactly how my brain works whenever I'm really tired and reading a book/thinking about a movie I saw earlier, so you will understand exactly how the following events could take place, even though I'm technically sane.

During my Freshman year of high school, we were asked to read the book Night by Elie Wiesel, which is based on Wiesel's experiences being a Jewish boy living in Germany during World War 2.
I have a really large problem with being forced to read books for school, because I enjoy reading at my own pace, and usually that's faster than everyone else, because I skim through books instead of focusing on every word (at least when its a book I'm enjoying I skim through it...if I don't like it, it takes me FOREVER to read a book). I always pick up on the main points that I'm supposed to pay attention to, or at least most of the time I do, I just read a lot faster than most of the other people in the class. So instead of reading everything when it's first assigned, I tend to put it off, convincing myself that since I read so fast, whatever amount of pages I read will take no time at all to read.
This is not always the case.
In fact, with required reading, it is more often NOT the case. But I also procrastinate like you would not believe, so I put stuff off even when I know it will take me longer to read than I think it will.

It was a weeknight. I had school the next day, and I had a quiz in English second period, meaning I had no time to read during the day, such as during lunch or anything.
The quiz wasn't on a huge amount of pages, but it was enough where I would be up late doing it.
Not only did I have a quiz, I had an assignment due 1st period for my Global Connections class, which also happened to be reading. I had to read the better part of a chapter and fill out a worksheet on it.
This chapter also happened to be about World War 2, with an emphasis on the treatment of Jews, Gypsies, Homosexuals, etc.
I was enrolled in an interdisceplinary class, which combined English and Global Connections, so as I was reading certain books from certain time periods, I would also be learning about that time period in Global Connections.

At this time I also had a habit of being a rebel and wanting to do my homework at retarded hours of the night, hours when I should be sleeping.
I had to technically be in bed by 11 at the latest, or else my parents would be disapproving and not be happy with me and lecture me on how I should have had my homework done hours ago.
So I would "go to bed" around 10:30, get in bed, turn my lights off, and pretend to sleep until my Mom came in to kiss me goodnight before going to bed herself. I'm pretty sure she always went to bed after my Dad did, cause I knew that her coming and kissing me was my clue that they were going to bed. Meaning it was safe for me to get out of bed, turn my lights on, and finish my homework.

Now, I had had other homework to do that night too, and I left my English/Global Connections homework until last, because it was the easiest and I figured I could get it done the fastest.
It was about 1 AM at this point, and I was pretty damn tired. But I knew I had to get my homework done, so I got to work.
First I read the pages I had to read of Night. I skimmed quickly through it, not paying too much attention, because as long as I had a pretty good idea of what had happened in the reading I could make pretty good guesses on the quizzes, and I generally did pretty damn well.

It was at this point that I should have stopped. I really should have.
But I didn't, because I really liked my global connections teacher, and I really didn't want her to be disappointed with me because I hadn't finished my homework. So despite my body's numerous protests, I kept on trucking.

Somewhere in the middle of reading about the concentration camps, I passed the fuck out. But because I was in a terribly uncomfortable position, and because I knew I still had shit to do, I woke up a few minutes later horribly disoriented.
When I say disoriented, I don't mean that I was just mildly confused as to what I was doing on the floor with a book open in front of me.
I mean that I had no idea where the hell I was, what time it was, or who I was.

My brain instantly picked the worst situation it could possible come up with, and because my rationality had long been on vacation, I believed it almost instantly.

Clearly I was jewish and hiding from the nazis, and I had woken up because they were about to search the place where I was hiding. That was the only logical explanation for everything.

I quickly got up, turned off all my lights and began peering out through my blinds, watching for Nazis.
I saw an airplane pass over my house, and instead of realizing that since I live somewhat near O'Hare airport, airplanes should be common, I immediately assumed that it was a German airplane, and that the pilots could somehow see into my window and would thus tell their counterparts on the ground that I was in the house and then the Nazis would come and take me away.
I bolted away from the window and looked wildly around my room, trying to decide if I should hide under the bed or in my closet.
I think it was at this point that I grabbed my cell phone to turn the ringer off, and subsequently realized that I am fucking retarded.

I had believed that Nazis were coming to take me for a good 15 to 20 minutes.

Moral of the story: Don't read about World War 2 when you're extremely tired. You will wake up Jewish and on the run.