Exercise - Sleep Paralysis

Chris lied still in his bed, his breath barely audible amidst the hum of the fan next to him.  His mind was elsewhere, though, deep in the dreams that plagued him each night.  This one was pleasant enough, though.  He dreamt that he was at home, and he was but a child again.  The old mobile home living room was more or less how he remembered it from his childhood.  Faux wood paneling outlined the living room, complete with shag carpet.  His grandparent’s ancient TV in the corner, playing whatever family-friendly Western was on at that time of day.  His grandma was busy in the attached kitchen, making a fresh pot of coffee.  His grandpa was in his room, which adjoined the living room.  A few things were out of place, such as his grandma’s collection of birdhouses being absent, but it wasn’t enough for his mind to see through the illusion of the dream. 

Chris heard a rustle from the bedroom.  His grandpa was getting up from his nap.  A few moments later he opened the door and greeted him with that warm, grandfatherly smile that everyone knew him for.  Chris got up to from the old couch to give him a hug, but stopped mid-stride.  Something caught his eye.  He looked to his right and noticed the glass sliding door into the front yard was ajar.  Had he let the dog out earlier and forgot to close it?  No, he didn’t remember doing so.  Which meant that something opened it from the outside.  He peered into the darkness and saw nothing.  Nothing, that is, until the darkness peered back.   A shape began to form, filling Chris with dread.  He tried to scream, but nothing came out.

He was in his bedroom again. Or was he?  Chris felt his mind still in the dream, but he was now conscious of that fact.  The dark of the bedroom began mixing with his grandparent’s living room, one becoming the other and vice versa.  But the shape in the darkness was constant.  Chris could see it through the glass screen door.  He could see it just beyond the crack in his bedroom.  Again, he tried to scream, but nothing but a silent whimper escaped his lips.  Over and over he tried, each failed attempt washing over him with a wave of helplessness.  He tried to run, in the dream and in reality, but couldn’t.  His body refused all attempts Chris made to command it.  He was left with nothing but an empty, powerless feeling; a silent prisoner in his own skin.  It filled him even more terror.

The entity stepped through the door, and Chris could feel the malevolence emanating from within it.  He tried as hard as he could to move, to will himself to move, but still his body sat idly by.  He began to concentrate on a specific appendage.  A finger would suffice.  If only he could take control of his finger, he may have a chance of breaking out.  He concentrated, focusing all of his attention and power, what little power he had in this state, into his finger. 

A twitch.  And another.  That’s all it took.  Chris’s eyes shot open, and he jolted upright in his bed, gasping for air.  Cold sweat enveloped his body, soaking into the sheets around him.  It was an unpleasant feeling, but he didn’t care.  He didn’t care about anything except for being fully awake.  His heart was racing and goosebumps began to form on his arms.  His eyes darted around the room, looking for any evidence of the entity that was there a moment ago.  They found nothing.

Though the entity had been a dream, the sleep paralysis had been very real.  Chris suffered from it regularly, as if it were a cruel curse that someone had placed upon him.  He gathered his wits about him before getting out of bed and closing the door.  It may have been a dream, but he was honestly scared at this point, and sleep would not find him easily for the rest of the night.