My ex wife used to sleepwalk all over the house. She wrote on walls and mirrors, fixed herself drinks and bowls of cereal, and drew maps and pictures, all without waking up. It was, in turns, disconcerting and amusing.
It was never as awesome as this story.
Probably because I am not a dickhead sorcerer. Why are those guys always trying to trade other people's mortality for their own? That's just rude.