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and that's when i realised the devil couldn't protect me any more

ok, i'm sorry.
here comes the night mare...

i'm sorry to dom. i'm sorry to the neighbours.

i've been at it again with the night terrors.

monday night, i managed to wake dom and probably the dead at about three in the morning with the usual screams. then, to make matters worse [for dom, not the dead, who were likely not in great shape to begin with], i felt it necessary to explain to him what i was dreaming about, because it was just so damn amazing. i'd been in hell. not some b.s. "hell is other people" sartre thing either. i'd been on some sort of bizarre tour of dante's inferno brand hell. it had levels. there was a sort of dumb waiter/ laundry shoot involved between them. each level was indeed worse, but i'm pretty sure that dante never included the running-man style steroid giant fight level. or the strange mix of hephaestus and evil elf that manned the "chute" where you were either horribly mangled or, in my case, protected by the strange, sinister figure, although his protection involved a sense of being trapped in his particularly small circle of hell. but of course, i ended up stepping outside that sphere of protection because i went up the curved staircase that led to a room where another demon was drawing lots with a gypsy fortune teller and i started playing along and i drew the number "50", which the gypsy insisted was really important and really good, but then i realised i wasn't supposed to be talking to anyone and i was likely to get mangled so i climbed out a window and it turned out there were lots of really horrible demons on the loose just waiting to prey on someone like me who was running around in the dark in a neighbourhood that looked very calm and rather uncannily similar to one that was adjacent to where i used to live in toronto, just a lot of very well-groomed, middle class homes and lawns, but with demons that you could hear making the scariest noises ever and with bizarre skinless animals running thither and yon. and at that point, i knew that i couldn't go back to the circle of hell where i was safe and that i was pretty much powerless and at the mercy of whatever was making those incredibly frightening noises and it really did seem like an appropriate time to start screaming and so i did.

extremely loudly, apparently.

the night after, of course, i was having a dream that i was suffocating. nothing was visibly wrong, it was just that i couldn't get air in and i was completely dried out, so i had no saliva to swallow. i was wandering around a hospital just trying to get help, although no one seemed to appreciate how serious the problem was, because i couldn't talk to explain it to them. so rather than try to form words, i just focused on trying to make as much noise as possible.

and i succeeded!

dom came into the room, since he stayed up late watching a movie in the livingroom while i tried to catch up on my sleep, and told me in the most bored voice possible that i was having a nightmare and waking the dead. for the second night in a row. like this doesn't even register with him anymore. bloodcurdling screams are like cat hair in his world, but he's still kind of concerned in case anyone makes a noise complaint.

this time, as it happens, what i was dreaming had been influenced by the fact that i was apparently trying to stand on my head while i slept. i can't stand on my head when i'm awake, so i'm not really sure what the logic was here, but i awoke in an awkwardly folded position, with most of the weight of my upper body bearing down on my head and neck, which were crushed halfway between the pillows and the mattress. it was indeed exceptionally difficult to breathe. and to understand.

clearly, aside from everything else that's wrong with me, i have some sort of dreaming disorder. if you try to look up night terrors on the internet, what you'll find is a lot of information on how to deal with them in children. forty year-old women are not supposed to be getting them. as much as i love to revel in my own immaturity, it does strike me that i must be pretty out of step with the rest of the world if i'm now going through something that was supposed to be taken care of when i was still in single digits. [i might also note, as might my mother, that i did go through this in single digits and it was harrowing for all involved.]

i have no idea what to do. right now, i'm mainly hoping that i don't accidentally break my neck trying more sleep-gymnastics. along with hoping that this isn't followed by a return to other childhood troubles. i'm pretty sure dom is going to leave me if i start peeing the bed every night.

Comments

When I was about four years old in the deepest dark of the night I was chased out of my bed by a giant snake.
It sent me running and screaming out of my room and down the hall only to vanish when the lights were turned on.
But it was there I said I saw it it was chasing me,it was about to strike.
It did not help that I repeated this performance three more times that night but thankfully since then the snake has not reappeared.
Not good when the night and sleep become a time when you don't feel safe.

I "feel your pain"!
Kate MacDonald said…
Thanks Charles... I know that when I was young, I was convinced that the things I could see in my room were real. I can remember vividly the night I found out that they weren't, at least in the sense that my mother couldn't see them and didn't understand what I was carrying on about.

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