Sleep Paralysis (the demon in my head)

I’m suddenly awake, but something is wrong.  I can’t move.  I can’t move at all.  I try to sit up, but I can’t.  Something is holding me down!  No. . . it is worse than that.  I try to move my right arm. . . left. . . legs. . . I am paralyzed.  I’m focusing all of my energy and concentration on moving, but I can’t.  My body is too heavy.  I don’t have the strength to lift it. 1

Something is sitting on my chest too.  The pressure on my lungs makes it difficult to breathe. This thing–this awful thing–will not let me move.  It is draining me.  My energy is fading.  My consciousness is fading.  The awfulness is all around me–I fear that it is inside me.  That is why I can’t move.  It is taking over me.  I can feel it forcing its way into my consciousness.  It wants me to sleep.  I want to sleep, but I fear that if I stop fighting, even if just for a second, I will never wake up.  If I don’t move, I will never wake up!2

I still can’t move.  Maybe if I scream someone will save me.  I try to scream–I try to scream as loud as I can.  I have a roommate.  Surely she will hear me and wake me from this living nightmare. . . but nothing is coming out of my mouth.  I can’t scream.  I can’t speak.  What is happening to me?  3

I’m getting so tired.  I feel so weak.  The evil entity is still forcing its way into my head.  I’m so tired. . . I’m so weak. . . I’m so drained. . . If I succumb to this exhaustion, I will die.  I know it.  I know it just as certainly as I know my own name.  I have to show this demon that he can’t have me.  I have to move.  If I don’t move, I will be his.  I can already feel him in my head. . . the exhaustion. . . the darkness. . . I must move.  4

I try moving my arm again. Focus.  Focus.  Focus.  I panic.5

I can’t move.  I can’t speak.  I can’t breathe.  The darkness is spreading.  Fight it.  I have to fight it.  God dammit! Why can’t I move?! Focus.  Focus.  Focus.  My arm is too heavy.  Maybe I’m too ambitious.  Fingers.  My pointer finger.  Focus.  Focus.  Focus.  Success! 6

I mange to move my finger just a fraction of an inch, but the darkness starts to subside.  My arms move.  The demon flees from my chest.  I sit up, relieved but gasping.  My heart is pounding as I look around the dark room.  The clock says it is 3:11.  Just a nightmare. . .7

I’m not convinced that it is gone.  I am still terrified.  Why am I being so irrational?  It was just a dream.  Calm down.  Calm down.  There are no demons in my head or anywhere around me.  Calm down.  Calm down.  I can’t.8

There was something sitting on my chest.  There was something keeping me from moving.  There was something inside my head.  That something is still here.  I know it.  I can feel it.  The more I try to assess my surroundings, the more wrong they look.  The room is pulsating.  The walls are breathing.  My blanket is not a down comforter, but some sort of creature.  I throw the covers off of me.  “Lord Jesus Christ, have mercy on my soul,” I say out loud.  It does not appease my anxiety.  I see something move out of the corner of my eye.  It is by the window.  Light.  Light.  Light.  Where the hell is the switch?  My hand fumbles around my night stand until I find the switch for the lamp.  Light.  Light.  Safety. 9

I look across the room at my roommate.  She is sleeping soundly, unperturbed by the light.  I glance at the window–no demons. . . just branches moving in the wind outside.  I shake my head and scold myself for being ridiculously irrational.  But still. . . my chest hurts.  It feels bruised.  I put my hand over my heart. . . at least it’s still beating, though uncomfortably fast.  I move to my computer and turn on the screen.  I maximize my buddy list–everyone is away.  Normal people are still sleeping because they aren’t attacked by demons in their sleep.  I roll my eyes at myself and check my email.  Nothing interesting.  It occurs to me to Google my experience.  After skipping over many web sites regarding paranormal activity, too afraid to admit to myself that I’ve been scared out of my logic, I come across the term “Sleep Paralysis.”10

“Sleep paralysis, or more properly, sleep paralysis with hypnagogic and hypnopompic hallucinations have been singled out as a particularly likely source of beliefs concerning not only alien abductions, but all manner of beliefs in alternative realities and otherworldly creatures. Sleep paralysis is a condition in which someone, most often lying in a supine position, about to drop off to sleep, or just upon waking from sleep realizes that s/he is unable to move, or speak, or cry out. This may last a few seconds or several moments, occasionally longer. People frequently report feeling a "presence" that is often described as malevolent, threatening, or evil. An intense sense of dread and terror is very common. The presence is likely to be vaguely felt or sensed just out of sight but thought to be watching or monitoring, often with intense interest, sometimes standing by, or sitting on the bed. On some occasions the presence may attack, strangling and exerting crushing pressure on the chest. People also report auditory, visual, proprioceptive, and tactile hallucinations, as well as floating sensations and out?of?body experiences (Hufford, 1982). These various sensory experiences have been referred to collectively as hypnagogic and hypnopompic experiences (HHEs). People frequently try, unsuccessfully, to cry out. After seconds or minutes one feels suddenly released from the paralysis, but may be left with a lingering anxiety. Extreme effort to move may even produce phantom movements in which there is proprioceptive feedback of movement that conflicts with visual disconfirmation of any movement of the limb. People may also report severe pain in the limbs when trying to move them.” (Sleep Paralysis. http://watarts.uwaterloo.ca/~acheyne/S_P2.html)11

Obviously, I think, rolling my eyes again.  I knew there was an explanation.  I sigh in relief. 12

It’s 5:00 a.m.  I have class in three hours.  What are we doing tomorrow. . . today?  My mind is tired and it takes me awhile to remember.  18th century literature.  Defoe.  Richardson.  Fielding.  Exam.  Fuck.  I need sleep.  13

The thought of getting into my bed makes me anxious again, despite the logical explanation for my experience.  I walk to my night stand, turn off the lamp, and walk across the room to my roommate’s bed.  I crawl in.  She stirs a little.  “Tasha?” she says softly. 14

“I had a nightmare.  Can I sleep with you?” I ask. 15

“Of course,” she says, falling back to sleep as she finishes the word. 16

7:00 a.m.  I’m barely awake, but at least I can move.  My chest still feels bruised and I’m in my roommate’s bed.  I shake my head, once again, at my irrationality.  I gravitate towards coffee and the fear returns.  This time, however, there are no demons–just a packet of paper that says “midterm” at the top. 17

“Lord Jesus Christ. . . have mercy on my soul. . .”18