It’s like someone was coloring them in and realized he didn’t have enough black paint, so he used a little less on each one.
An earthquake once. It was at about 4:30 in the morning. I woke up, realized the floor was rippling (or at least it looked like it in the dark when I was mostly asleep), decided I was obviously dreaming, nevertheless hoped the computer was okay, and went back to bed. Found out the next morning that there had been a minor earthquake left over from a bigger one in California.
Numerous burglar alarms, all false.
My cat, entranced by my (formerly) long hair, deciding to sink his teeth into my scalp. In other head-related injuries, rolling out of bed and banging my head on the sharp edge of my nightstand.
The Pink Panther theme song, which prompted me to blindly strike out at the source of it, and clock my best friend.
I say this one wins.
My contribution: I used to be a camp counselor. Wednesday night was the obligatory “scare the pants off the little campers with tales of one-armed axe murderers and such” night. Campers finally get to sleep. I finally get to sleep. About 1 a.m., there’s a loud knock at my cabin door. I hear crying. 
I open the door to see a co-counselor standing there in her nightgown, covered head-to-toe in blood. My vision actually did that weird camera-zoom thing like in the Evil Dead movies.
Turns out some camper had fallen off the top bunk and was bleeding all over the place.
My heartbeat returned to normal about a month later.
Recently my husband and I were woken by an ear-piercing, inhuman, wailing scream that just kept going and going. Turned out it was one of the cats, screaming in outrage at a stray cat that was sitting just outside one of our windows. She’s seen stray cats outside before, but she’s never made a sound like that before or since. I’m still not sure why that one pissed her off so goddamn much.
Back in 1985 or so, I was dating a woman who had recently separated from her husband. Very early one morning, one of my roommates bursts into the bedroom carrying my other roommate’s shotgun and yelling something to the effect of “you’re the sonofabitch who’s sleeping with my wife”. I don’t think I’ve had a full night of sleep since then.
Funny guy.
Reminds me of The Simpsons episode, where Homer bursts into Bart’s bedroom and yells “Check out my new chainsaw and hockey mask!!”
I was solidly asleep. Our bed at the time was low to the floor, and when my hand flopped off the bed, it hit the floor. Which had a bee on it. Which stung my hand. Which caused me to wake up screaming.
I’ve been there.
The worst is when I started puking and could not stop. I couldn’t breathe, there was so much puke. I seriously thought I was going to die.
Fortunately I finally stopped puking, and remained alive.
brains…