Sleep Paralysis

A demon stood in the dark, watching me as I pretended to sleep again. I peeked through my lashes and watched its shadow grow in my periphery. My chest felt full of cement. Run? I couldn’t even wiggle my toes. My body was numb except for the crushing pressure on my chest. The room was silent. The demon was hidden, but its sinister smile was palpable. It must have felt glee when I finally stopped pretending to sleep and gasped for air like a fish out of water. It must have felt a sick pleasure like a boy who tears the legs off a grasshopper, before placing it on an anthill. Otherwise, why did it come back each night?

Why did it come? What did it want? I used to try to ask these questions. No words ever escaped my mouth. Instead, only a panicked hum. It never spoke. It never made any sound. Once, I did manage to scream. My roommate rushed to my room, but she was too late to see the intruder. She thought I was crazy. I didn’t blame her, I did too. Yet the demon continued to come.

Unseen, it would come in the night and linger like a heavy shadow. It brought an overbearing sense of emptiness. A black hole, invisible and all consuming. I began to fear the dark and dread sleep. I tried to sleep with the light on. It didn’t help. The demon moved in the peripheral shadows, never in full view.

Therapy? Yes, I went. They said it was sleep paralysis. I thought they were right. They gave me breathing techniques and helped me construct a mental paradise for escape. We developed a bedtime routine, and they prescribed me sleep aids. They told me I was overburdened with school. I reduced my class load for the semester. They told me that I was working too hard, so I quit my job, rent be damn.

Weeks of practice passed with slow improvement. Still some nights the demon came. I would breathe deep and escape to my meadow out of the reach of its crushing gravity. That night something was different. I could feel its anger. It stalked closer and closer until I felt it at my throat. I focused on breathing. Long, deep breaths in through my nose, filling my lungs, holding the air for several seconds, and forcing it out through my nostrils. I kept my eyes shut and traveled to my meadow. 

My meadow was beautiful. Full of green grass and wildflowers, cool with morning dew. The grass jutted between my naked toes and tickled the soles of my feet with each step. The warm air was filled with the gentle buzz of bees and cheerful songs of songbirds. A calm breeze carried the smell of flowers. A hidden brook babbled behind the flowers ahead. Beyond the brook, a large hill sloped gently in the distance, crowned with a magnificent apple tree. Its apples were the sweetest fruit my mind could imagine. Saliva formed in anticipation of munching on one. I imagined the crisp snap of the first bite and the taste of the sweet flesh as I mashed it between my teeth.

The soft grass was a welcome carpet on the way to the hill. I raised my nightgown at the edge of the brook and stepped in. The water was a frigid contrast to the warm sun and rose to the middle of my calf. Gentle, round pebbles massaged my feet as I traversed. There was no pain in my meadow, only the soft, gentle, welcoming senses of peace and serenity. On the far side of the water, I walked up the grassy knoll, feeling my leg muscles warm from the gentle change in elevation. It wasn’t strenuous, my muscles felt good, like stepping into a warm bathtub rather than the burning pain of a tense hike. I looked up at the tree and saw birds gliding and dancing over the apple tree. Over the crest of the hill and top branches of the tree there was a sky painted with idyllic clouds. My chest clenched. Something was off. The birds? They sounded wrong. And their movements were different from those of doves.

Ravens? Dark ravens, not dancing, but attacking. They dove and swooped in barbaric attacks on the doves, larks, and gentle birds of the meadow. The corpses of songbirds littered the hilltop. My heart skipped; my limbs began to numb. I looked out over the meadow. The demon was a shimmer in the middle of the field. Even in the light, I couldn’t see it clearly. 

I heard a snap from the tree behind me, then the panicked gurgling sound of a strangled woman. I turned; a pair of suspended legs kicked from behind the tree. My heart pounded, pungent sweat oozed from my pores, my body grew stiff and heavy. I sprinted and circled the tree finding a woman hanging by her neck. She wasn’t dead but clutched at the rope with the vicious rage of a wild animal. Her face was purple with blood; her eyes were pale blue and wide as plates full of fear. I recognized her. How? I didn’t know, it didn’t matter. I tried to wrap my arms around and raise her. 

Her knee caught me in the mouth. The metallic taste of blood stained my tongue. I lunged again, this time wrapping my arms tight around her legs. I strained and managed to raise her tiny thrashing body. I heard her gasp for air and then began to sob in deep, heavy breaths. She begged me for help.

“Reach for the rope, see if you can untie it.” 

We were covered in sweat, and she was slipping through my arms. She started choking. I readjusted with no improvement.

“Try to sit on my shoulders.”

She dangled above me, crying as I tried to guide her legs around my neck when the familiar sense of emptiness overtook me. I tensed, anticipating a blow that never came; instead, a gentle, husky voice whispered.

“wake up.”

I opened my eyes; I was in my bed. The room was dark. I couldn’t feel my body except for the crushing pressure on my chest. The wet sheets clung to me. The room reeked of fear. My eyes darted around the dark room, looking for the demon. I found it beside the door. It was a large dark shadow, darker than the darkest part of a person’s mind, and no longer hiding in the edges. 

I stared at it. If it stared back, I don’t know. Light leaked into the room from under the door. I tried to scream, but my jaw stayed locked, and no sound escaped me. The sound of the doorknob twisting broke the silence. The hinges squeaked as the door crept open, flooding the room with light. The demon moved into the hall and closed the door behind it. 

I tried to scream again, this time able to open my mouth and produce a heavy wheeze. My roommate’s confused voice came from down the hall. I imagined her springing from the couch, her little body and pale blue eyes staring into the dark shadow.

“Stay away.” She yelled.

Something large crashed to the floor. A scream. Quick heavy steps shook the house. a flash of shadow broke the sliver of light under the door. A door in the hall slammed shut and a lock clicked close. Then through the wall I heard her crying.

I cried too as I fought my paralyzed body to move. I could move my fingers a little and managed to raise my heavy arm several inches before it fell back to the mattress. I raised it again, this time getting it high enough to fall over my head. A new shadow broke the light from under the door. I held my breath, expecting it to enter. Instead, I heard the gentle knock on my roommate’s door. She let out a scream and yelled for it to stay away.

I reached for my phone on the bedside table; the screen lit up, but my fingers were useless. I couldn’t grip it, and my clumsy hand pushed it off the table. It fell to the floor and cracked as it hit the ground. I gained more control of my body and rolled to my side, and groped for the phone on the floor. It was as though my body was full of wet sand; my weight was off balance, and I tumbled off the bed. I found the phone; its screen was all white and covered in a spider web of cracks. A shard of glass stabbed my thumb as I tried to use it; blood streaked the screen. 

My whole body was still numb and jerked as I tried to control it. I wrestled to my knees, then to my feet, falling over and leaning against the wall for support. As I lumbered towards the door, the gentle knocks became a deafening pounding. I heard the door begin to crack with each successive blow. The anxious screams of my roommate built in intensity. I heard her door give way as I reached my own. Her heavy steps shook the house as she evaded the intruder. 

I fought my fear and the weight of my arms reaching for the knob with one hand, then the other. The latch retreated into the door, and I fell backwards, opening the door, and stumbling back onto my bed. I bounced back to my feet and half-fell into the hallway. A pair of framed photos plunged to the ground, sending broken glass everywhere. I left red footprints on the thin, cheap carpet as I moved towards her door. I heard a panicked gurgling sound from my roommate and then the slamming of a door inside her room.

The entrance door lay splintered on the floor. The fan still spun from the ceiling, with a single naked bulb illuminating the war-torn room. The mattress leaned against the wall; a lamp lay shattered next to a flipped desk. There was a banging coming from the closet door. It was desperate at first, then sporadic. Then it faded to gentle taps. I waded through the destruction and fumbled with the knob until finally I was able to wrangle the closet open. 

She hung before me, hands grasped onto the belt around her throat. Her face was turning purple, and her pale blue eyes bulged as she wrestled for her life. I grabbed her legs and lifted her. She gasped for air and, with a hoarse voice, screamed for help and began to squirm. Her knee caught me in the mouth, and the metallic taste of blood danced across my tongue. I begged her to stop fighting and got my hands around her legs again. I told her to get to my shoulders. I had my hands wrapped around her when the voice whispered in my ear for me to sleep. Darkness faded over me. 

I told my story when they asked me why I had done it. I swore to them that I hadn’t. My lawyer was able to convince the jury that I was insane. Now I am here. It’s a lonely place filled with handicapped or psychotic people. I don’t place myself in either category. So I avoid the other residents. I’m never alone, though. The demon is always with me, out of sight but always there nonetheless.