Came home from class one afternoon (was still living with parents then) and was really tired so I just flopped face down on my bed and fell asleep. At some point I thought it was chilly so I pulled both arms in under me. Must have slept that way at least an hour or two.
I was awakened by the phone ringing (this was early 80s so it was a corded model on my nightstand) and in the panic and stupor of being startled awake, it was somehow absolutely imperative that I answer that phone. Trouble was, both arms were asleep and completely dead.
First of all, just rolling over was harder than expected but I managed to get onto my back at the edge of the bed and looked at that ringing phone, trying to figure out how to grab it. I started making these hard, twisting lurches to try to flop an arm over at the phone and finally made contact with my dead right hand, which knocked the phone off the nightstand onto the floor, where the receiver fell off the base.
So now I had "answered" the phone before they gave up but I couldn't hear them from up on the bed and I was still in that waking panic mode. Everything so far had occurred just in the space of several rings and both my arms were still dead. You don't realize just how much you use your arms until you can't, so when I rolled off the edge of the bed to get to the phone I just did a sort of slow and awkward droopy-armed faceplant on the floor like a drunken chimp.
I started yelling "Hang on!" repeatedly while I did little mini-rolls back and forth till I had maneuvered my face close enough to the phone to hear the caller. Success!
You'd think I would remember who was on the other end of the phone but I don't. I think it was just someone looking for my dad. But I still get cracked up thinking about the whole thing.