I've suffered from sleep paralysis for a long time. It used to be fucking terrifying because it seemed so real. I never saw the Old Hag that others swear by, but what happens to me is that I'm in bed and something is under it trying to drag me down to join it. It's actually impossible. If there was such a thing down there, there is no way it could pull me down and under because, well, I'm too fat to fit under my bed for one, and for another there is no room on any side of my bed. Maybe if I was a child.
But maybe a decade ago I stopped giving a shit about this. I started thinking, fuck it, let the bastard take me. And when I surrendered myself to this feeling, I suddenly stopped having sleep paralysis.
There is some speculation as to what causes this phenomenon. I think it happens when our bodies fall asleep but our minds aren't quite there yet.
Imagine my surprise when, during my first week back home after my most recent amputation, I experienced sleep paralysis again. This time was different, though. I felt an odd sensation in the back of my skull. If someone had been monitoring my brain in a scientific setting, I'm sure my readings would have lit up like Klieg lights. It burned with an electrical feeling, like someone had plugged something into the back of my head Matrix-style.
And then I left my body. It wasn't cool like you'd think. Nothing looked right around me. If I had to compare it to something, I'd say it's like when Frodo puts the ring on in Peter Jackson's LotR movies. It's kind of like a shadow world where everything is dark and the winds howl constantly. It freaked me out, especially when I saw the hunk of meat I left behind. Holy shit, that's me! Or rather, that's supposed to be me. I tried to lay back down, matching my spirit limbs to my physical limbs, and at first it didn't work. I thought, shit, maybe I died. Maybe I'm locked out of the physical realm now.
Grandma hadn't died yet, so I felt a slight relief that I wouldn't have to deal with that or the looming homelessness that would come after. But dying was a bummer, man. I had so many books I hadn't written or read yet, and I would never get to do that. I figured that when the final synapses of my brain stopped firing off I would cease to exist.
And then I woke up.
I know it was a dream. I know I didn't actually die or have an out of body experience, etc. But when I woke up I tried to recreate what I'd just gone through because it was, indeed, a hell of a ride. I'm not a roller coaster guy, but I thought this must be what it's like for people who enjoy that sort of thing.
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