No one knows this about me, but I suffer from sleep paralysis
A friend recently made me realise that we automatically think of our skeletons being inside of us when, in fact, our consciousnesses are contained in our brains, meaning we are inside of our skeletons. This mind-blowing (and equally nightmarish) concept led me to question the connection that the body has with the brain. Are our bodies just walking suits of armour that protect a squishy ball of knowledge, thoughts and ideas, much like the metal shell of a Dalek? Is my sleep paralysis just a breaking of the connection between my mind and body, leaving me as simply a brain? Is anything in this life real? After formulating these existential questions I had to have a lie-down, but my mind still wanders off to this same confusing place from time to time.
The title of this article is technically a lie in the sense that my parents and housemates know of my “condition”, but it’s not exactly something that I like to shout about. Besides, it’s a terrifying thing to be afraid of yourself…
The NHS defines sleep paralysis as “a temporary inability to move or speak that occurs when you’re waking up or falling asleep”. This definition is chilling enough, but it doesn’t even begin to illustrate the pure terror that comes with experiencing it first hand; something that I will attempt to describe for you now.
My first “episode” took place sometime in May 2017 at approximately 3am in my first-year student accommodation and, although I can’t quite remember the exact details of when it happened, I can remember how I felt as if it were happening now. I was already struggling to get to sleep and was simply lying in the dark, willing myself to bring about some kind of tiredness. Now on nights like these, and I’m sure we’ve all had them, the shadows of the room and the strange dark shapes formed by everyday objects toyed with my imagination to create eerie creatures of the night. But I reminded myself that I was an adult now and it was just my mind playing tricks on me, so I closed my eyes tight and tried to muster up some sleep. Somewhere in-between me being awake and unconscious, the sleep paralysis took hold.
Due to the aforementioned imagination monsters, my first thought was that I was being possessed (it seemed pretty rational at the time, I promise). It began with a rush of white noise through my head (sort of like the feeling you get when you stand up too quickly) and, coupled with my already actively paranoid thoughts, this noise mutated into what I thought was laughter. Creepy, I know.
Then it set in: the paralysis. I suddenly found that I couldn’t move any part of my body, no matter how hard I tried, and when I tried to speak, no sound came out, so no chance of a rescue. I was trapped inside my own body; just a brain in a shell. I was left lying alone and motionless in the dark, waiting for the connection between my physical self and my consciousness to be re-established. The only event I can liken it to is that sickening feeling you get as a kid when you lose your parents in the supermarket, but instead of being able to shout and hunt down the aisles for them, you’re frozen and helpless.
It can’t have been more than three or four minutes, but when you’re a prisoner in your own mind, a minute feels like a millennium. Then, with the same head-rush as before, my body was my own again, though it felt like a stranger’s at first. Once I was settled into my new, yet familiar, flesh and bones, I did what I do best: have a little cry.
Every time since the first, my sleep paralysis has been easier to recognise and so now it’s more of a shock, then an acceptance and then an annoyed wait for it to p*ss off. I no longer feel the panic or helplessness that I used to and so it doesn’t scare me anymore. An episode is normally brought on by stress or lack of sleep, but things have been pretty chill lately so luckily I haven’t had a visit for a while (though I hope I haven’t jinxed it).
So I suppose the moral of this tale is that you can overcome your fear of anything, even if it’s yourself. Sweet dreams…
