There's Something I Need to Get off My Chest...

Picture this, if you will…you are fast asleep, dreaming of ice cream cones and sunny beaches and a fluffy little puppy named Sam, when you are suddenly jarred awake by something. A sound, a touch, a whisper. You try to move, try to speak, but your body refuses to cooperate, refuses your command to flee. Terrified, paralyzed, you try to scream out, but make no sound. And then, as if a page in a Stephen King horror novel, you see it, hovering above the bed, …

A demon, a ghost, an alien creature descending upon you, settling on your body, choking you. Smothering you.

You try to buck, to toss it off your chest, but it only draws closer, its foul breath and razor-sharp teeth nearing your neck. You try once more to cry out, aware that you are dying, that some ‘thing’ is killing you. And then…

You wake up. Sweating, shaking, maybe sucking your thumb. (I can’t be the ONLY one who does that, right?) Tears fill your eyes as you search the room, scanning every corner, every crevice, for the bastard that damn near took your life. But nothing is there. No ghost, no boogeyman, no reaper waiting to steal your soul. So what the hell was it?

This first happened to me several years ago (like over two decades ago) but I still remember it vividly. I was asleep, having a perfectly sane dream, when I awoke to the sound of David Letterman on the TV in the next room. My husband had worked late and was watching TV before turning in for the night. I can even remember the guest he was interviewing (Tom Hanks) and the canned-sounding laughter from the studio audience. I tried to get up but failed. I—couldn’t—move—anything. Not a toe, a finger, an eyelash. I was beyond frightened and knew immediately that I was dying. Had to be…what else could it be. The medical professional in me went through the possibilities; stroke, aneurysm, Guillain-Barre syndrome? All I knew was that I was dying and Letterman and Tom Hanks couldn’t give a fat rat’s ass about it. They just kept on chatting while I slowly drifted away.

Bastards.

Just when I thought it couldn’t get any worse, surprise! Enter Demon Man, stage left! This billowy, grayish dude just suddenly appeared on top of me, breathing his rank, stinky-ass breath all over my face. I was screaming now (well, not out loud. But in my head! Man, you should have heard me. Jaime Lee Curtis would have been proud!)

Where was I? Oh, yeah, the smelly fellow currently compressing my chest. I legit couldn’t breathe, actually felt four fingers squeezing the back of my neck as a struggled for air. Then, this hideous creature opened its mouth, and I literally felt my soul being pulled from my body. No joke…I could feel something leaving, as if I was astral projecting or something.

And then, as suddenly as it started, it stopped. The creature was gone, my body obeyed the command to move, my soul remained intact.

I can still remember the terror, smell the fetid breath, feel the droplets of tears as they ran down the sides of my face. So, what in the actual hell happened?

In a word (or two words) — Sleep Paralysis.

Simply put, sleep paralysis happens when you wake up during REM, or Rapid Eye Movement, the dreaming phase of the sleep cycle. Apparently, because our bodies have thought of everything, our brain shuts off the ability to move during REM as a protective mechanism. I mean, think about it: What if we were able to move and were having dreams about flying off of rooftops, swimming in the surf or, I don’t know, pole dancing? Sleep paralysis keeps us from acting out our dreams, and thus, saves us from physical harm.

Not to mention saving us from crushing our dreams of becoming an exotic dancer.

So, where does the scary part, the hallucinations of an evil presence fit in? Beats the hell outta me. Personally, I find it intriguing, though, that I did not witness the frightening apparition until after I realized I could not move. So, perhaps, the terror of that situation allowed my inner-most fears to manifest themselves?

As it is in Tootsie Pops, the world may never know.

In researching these haunting hallucinations (because, you know me— I can research something to death) I discovered a few things. They can occur because of anxiety, lack of sleep, stress— all things I was experiencing at the time as the wife of a cop and the mother of five— or simply because of sleep position. Handy tip— don’t sleep on your back.

Oh, and alcohol can be a potential trigger. So ease up on the booze.

As if… I’m Irish, so back off.

It would be an understandable leap to interpret these sleep demons as an actual visit from beyond. After all, if there are angels, there must be demons, too, right? Morning and night, light and dark, yin and yang. Everything must be in balance in the world. But the clue here, for me, is not only the paralysis but the immediate feeling of terror. The true visits I have experienced in the past started out with wonder and ended up with a warmth that is hard to describe. Even a visit from an evil being would, I think, begin with something other than stark terror. Curiosity, confusion, or disbelief maybe? I believe the fright of sleep paralysis comes from within, buried fears we hide from ourselves while we are awake, and not from any outside entity.

Do you have a story about sleep paralysis you’d care to share? If so, drop me a line here or at quinnnoll@gmail.com.

See you next time and remember…back sleepers never prosper!