The Boston Diaries

The ongoing saga of a programmer who doesn't live in Boston, nor does he even like Boston, but yet named his weblog/journal “The Boston Diaries.”

Go figure.

Tuesday, June 29, 2004

Riding it out

I got that feeling again, the one I get when I'm hit with sleep paralysis—I'm awake, but feeling drugged out and unable to move or speak. Every since I found out exactly what that feeling was, I was able to control the paranoia and helpless feelings normally associated with it and kind of “ride it out” as it where.

Except for today.

Not feeling quite right and still a bit tired, I went upstairs for what I was expecting to be a half hour nap. Two and a half hours later I get hit with a rather nasty sleep paralysis attack. I knew what was happening, but still, the impulse to get up (or rather, attempt to get up) was strong and I ended up just flopping around trying to get out from under the covers, unable to call out for help.

I made a valiant attempt, but ended up flailing on my back when the mattress started bucking up and down. Mattresses normally don't buck up and down and knowing what I was going through, I came to the conclusion that I was not being abducted by aliens, seduced by succubi or possed by Linda Blair, but instead was still partially dreaming.

Experiencing sleep paralysis is bad enough—dreaming of experiencing sleep paralysis is even worse. Or perhaps it's the knowledge of sleep paralysis and dreaming you are experiencing it is bad. All I know, the next thing I'm seeing as I struggle to open my eyes is a creature flying out from behind the bathroom mirror (visible from the bed). Great, I thought. Not only am I suffering from sleep paralysis, but I'm hallucinating at the same time. Such thoughts didn't keep from from yelling out “Help!” although it came out more like “Eeeaaaah!”

So I'm flailing around, trying to get somewhere by any means necessary, yelling “Help!” or “Get away!” (to the flying hallucination from the mirror) and wondering why no one was even coming to help, because they were just down the hall in the living room. And this went on for what seemed like half an hour or hour or so. I think I'm about to get up when I don't. I'm yelling like Peter Boyle in Young Frankenstein. There's this hallucinated creature on a loop, flying out from behind the mirror, disappearing, then flying out from behind the mirror. And where is everybody? Can't anyone hear—

—and I snap out of it.

I'm finally awake, for real. In the same position as I was when I fell asleep some two and half hours ago. And the reason no one heard me is that no one was down the hall in the living room, because the living room isn't down the hall, it's down the stairs on the other end of the Facility in the Middle of Nowhere.

And I still felt like crap.

Bloody sleep paralysis.

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